Page 102 of Modern Romance September 2025 5-8
“But you arranged it.”
“Yes,” I say.
She regards me for a long moment. “I’ve had trouble figuring out what Cassandra sees in you.”
I nearly laugh. Because very few people would ever say such a thing to me. And I’m a billionaire. I’m also not vain, but not blind to the fact that I have physical charms.
I do know that Cassandra’s mother has never been overly impressed with me.
“All I ever wanted for myself was a normal life,” she says. “Stability. That’s the key to happiness, at least for me. But she’s a dreamer. And you seem to be her dream. But then, so is all this. When she gave it up to be with you, that was what upset me. But seeing her here with you tonight, and seeing her living her dream with you by her side, for the first time I say I feel good about the two of you together.”
“My hope is that I’m on the right path,” I say.
“You don’t know?” She fixes me with hard, gray eyes.
“I’mtrying.”
This is a painful, alarming admission.
I’ve never tried in my life. I’ve only wanted and succeeded.
It is only in this vast forest of emotion that I feel like I might fail.
“Life is much more difficult when you have to consider the feelings of others,” I say.
She laughs at me. As if this revelation I’ve only had recently is something obvious. “Well, yes. That is what makes life difficult. You live in a society, and you have to consider others. I guess maybe when you’re as rich as you are, you don’t often have to consider that.”
“No,” I say.
“I know she left you for a while. It must be very interesting for you. To find something that you can’t buy.”
She’s not wrong. There’s never been anything I couldn’t buy. There’s never been anything I couldn’t manipulate my way into. I thought Cassandra would be the same. In fact, she started that way.
But that couldn’t last.
Which is why I have to give her honesty now. Real and unvarnished. And I find that to be a truly difficult thing. Because I’m not even that honest with myself.
“It has been. And you’re right. I can’t buy her. Least of all her love.”
“My advice would be that you just love her back. Because she loves you more than anything. I know she does, because Cassandra has always wanted to please us. But anytime I’ve ever told her I think she might be making a mistake with you, she hasn’t listened. She knows her own mind. She knows her own heart. And I think that’s you.”
It’s not exactly a warm and fuzzy conversation. Not exactly one filled with reassurance. And yet.
When we get in the car to go home, Cassandra moves into the vehicle beside me. “What did my mother say to you?”
“She told me not to mess this up. Because you love me very much.”
“Did she?” she asks, sounding shocked.
“Yes. That was the gist of it.”
“And are you? Going to mess it up?”
“No,” I say. “I won’t.” I pause for a moment. “I love you.”
I say nothing after that, and she says nothing. We just let it sit there between us. On the short car ride back to our house. And when we get inside, I say it again.
“I love you.”
