Page 99 of Modern Romance September 2025 1-4

He wanted to believe there was something deceitful in it, in her, but he just didn’t think it was underhanded at all. She didn’t seem to have underhand in her. Which made her feel…

Dangerous. Like she had all the power and he had nothing. She pulled every string, and he would simply dance. Because she was good and right.

Which was nonsense , but he felt…unsteady all of a sudden. As if her innocent nature, trying to do something out of kindness, was a weapon.

He closed the album, not sure how it could leave him feeling bruised. He’d seen no happy memories of his own in there. Only his parents’ smiling faces.

And the haunting explanation Amelia had offered, that they had loved each other but simply hadn’t known how to be parents.

Likely they’d never been taught. What he remembered of his grandparents wasn’t warm in the least. They’d all been cold and removed.

They hadn’t liked the noise of children, so he and Aurora had not often been around them except to perform.

Diego didn’t even think he’d gone to their funerals. Had his parents? Had they grieved?

What a strange thing to wonder. He tried to shake the thoughts away. The past was gone. He should be punished for his, but not for whatever had gone on with his grandparents. They had been a nonentity in his life.

Amelia carefully set the album aside, then pulled out another one of similar size and heft.

Diego did not reach for it. He could not make himself. “Perhaps that is enough for one morning.”

She gave him one of those warm, sympathetic looks and nodded. “Of course. I thought this afternoon we could go into Dolcina and take in the nativities.” She smiled a little ruefully. “I wasn’t aware this was where your parents got engaged, but nonetheless. It’s a good Christmas tradition.”

He could see the picture of his mother grinning with her giant engagement ring perfectly in his mind’s eye. A woman whom only adulthood and loss had taught him he hadn’t really known.

Hadn’t tried to know, because to him she had been one-dimensional, impossible to impress or make happy, so he’d given up. Stayed away.

Because Amelia’s, or Bartolo’s, supposition was correct. For whatever reasons, his mother—in fact, both his parents—had not known how to get to know him . He and Aurora had existed only in the context of doing what was expected or not.

They had mostly not.

He hated that he had reasons for it. That Amelia had somehow forced him into looking deeper into a past he did not need to see clearly. It changed nothing. Because of him, everyone involved was dead, and there was no rectifying any of it. Understanding was a waste. A bigger loss.

And it was all her fault.

“And what exactly do you think comes from this?”

She frowned quizzically and looked over at him. “From what?”

“From shoving Christmas and memories down my throat? What do you get from this? What do you want to accomplish?” If he knew, he could fight it.

Fight her.

She studied him. If she was afraid or irritated by the snap in his tone, she didn’t show it. She kept her gaze and her tone even and calm.

“I suppose… I’d like to see you step back into yourself, Diego.”

He recoiled. He knew it was a metaphor, but he didn’t want to take that on. “And what on earth does that mean?”

She didn’t say anything for a long time. She stood there, eyebrows drawn together, expression serious. When she spoke, it was soft, but the words landed like daggers.

“My father wrote of you. In his journals. He saw a lot of himself in you.”

Diego didn’t realize he was shaking his head at first. When he realized it, he stopped.

“He had a similar relationship with his parents, except they were poor, so I think it was far more contentious and dangerous. But he saw a lot of the same wounds in you and wanted to help you heal them.”

“And you think forcing Christmas into my life will somehow heal me?”

“No. You have to want to heal yourself. Though I’m not sure I fully realized that until now. I did not realize how much you’d let the guilt poison you from the inside out.”

“Guilt is not a poison, Amelia. It is a fact.”

It was her turn to shake her head. “No. It is a feeling. Facts are that you did not cause that plane crash. You can feel as though your actions did, but that isn’t a fact by any stretch of the imagination.”

He stood, some force of fury propelling him. “I would be careful how you characterize my guilt, tesoro . It is what got you a job and keeps you employed.”

She didn’t flinch or blanch or react in any of the ways he’d expected. Wanted. Needed. Lashing out was supposed to create a wedge. Supposed to ease this pressure inside his chest.

It always had, no matter how often Bartolo had warned him that someday it would backfire. That someday he would meet someone who made that lash a source of guilt.

Little had Bartolo known what Diego could do with guilt .

Amelia very carefully got to her feet, calm and collected. “I have handled all the details of your life, your business, for these two years,” she said with the kind of quiet gravity he did not know how to interrupt. It held weight and heft, each word.

“I have thrown myself into it. When you threatened to fire me back at your cabin, I was terrified.” She shook her head. “Now I’m starting to think I should quit. Or allow you to fire me. Whichever should come first.”

He stared at her in utter shock for at what felt like a full minute before he found himself. “You cannot quit .”

“I could. I should.” She sighed, looking around the office. “Will I? I don’t know. I’m beginning to think this place, this life, is my own crutch. If I want you to give yours up, I suppose I have to give mine up.”

Before he could think of a thing to say, she crossed to him, gave his shoulder a friendly little pat. “We needn’t worry about it now. I’ll see the Christmas ball through. We can discuss it in the new year.”

He watched her go. Flee , essentially, like she couldn’t stand to be in this room with him for another second.

Like she got to decide. Like she alone knew all the secrets to the universe. And he was a fool for not following along. For not jumping to heal exactly the way she wanted him to.

Except she’d run away. Run. After days of accusing him of only running and hiding. Now she was.

No. Not today.