Page 175 of Modern Romance October 2025 5-8
Yes.
‘No.’
Three weeks ago? That was before the party. That was before...
Gio checked his watch.
‘I have a meeting.’
Enzo was being dismissed and entirely unsatisfied by his encounter, wanted to argue.
‘I—’
‘We are done here. For now. I would...’ And for the first time since meeting his grandfather, Enzo sensed the smallest glimmer of vulnerability. ‘I would like to continue to meet. Occasionally. When you are in Italy.’
Enzo glared at his grandfather, his world seesawing around him, and unsure whether to lash out or cry out. He swallowed.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Well, let me know when you do. You may leave.’
Enzo stood there for a full minute, but not once did his grandfather look up or acknowledge him. On the way out of Gio’s office, he thought he saw an IV stand, with bags, half hidden behind the door that gave him pause.
‘Get out,’ Gallo commanded, having noticed his hesitancy.
And oddly enough, Enzo bowed to his grandfather’s authority. Because for the first time since Erin had left, the little voice that had told him he had made a mistake had become a shout.
Erin looked out at the grey, windswept beach, so different from the near tropical colours of the Amalfi coast, and shrugged into her coat and scarf. An unseasonal cold snap had descended, fitting Erin’s mood better, but she couldn’t tell whether she felt better or worse to be so far removed from what she’d shared with Enzo.
She’d spent a week or so miserably haunting the small flat in London she’d rented after finishing university, but she’d needed to comehome. Being in Italy and France had made her realise how much she’d missed it. Not London, but Falmouth. How much she’d missed her mother.
Arla Carter had left her alone for nearly two days before sitting her down at the beaten-up dining table with a cup of tea, nearly as strong as coffee, and told her to ‘spill’.
Shame had kept Erin silent and guilt had kept her from being able to move on at all. It had been two and a half weeks since she’d left the marina in Cannes and she couldn’t think of anything else.
I did something unforgiveable, Mum.
Arla had told her that nothing was unforgiveable. Unless it involved children or animals, and that had made Erin laugh just a little.
So, slowly, over a cooling cup of tea, Erin told her about the meeting with Gio, the deal he’d offered in exchange for Charterhouse, and then travelling to Capri. She told her mother about meeting Enzo, and what she’d thought of him. She told her about touring the coastline, about the romantic proposal. About the dress she’d worn that had drawn such horrible attention, and even though it had been by design she now realised, Erin told her of how he’d made her feel when she’d told him of the bullying she’d experienced as a teen.
She told Arla about Enzo taking her to Florence, about seeing the frescos and Giotto’s bell-tower, just like her mother had always wanted. Erin told her about the muddying of her feelings and how she’d finally told Gio she wouldn’t do it, and then, eventually, how she’d uncovered that Enzo had known all along.
‘I... I’m so ashamed,’ she’d confessed tearily, her lips wobbling as she tried to pull it all back in, the sadness that kept pouring out of her. ‘Enzo didn’t deserve what I did to him.’
Her mother had sighed and rubbed circles on her back, soothing the ache that held her entire body tight in a vice.
‘You need to forgive yourself, my love.’
Erin had shaken her head.
‘You do. You made a mistake.’
‘It was more than a mistake, Mum.’
‘Okay, you made the wrong choice.’
‘I was just like Dad,’ Erin had confessed, finally unearthing the deep heart of her hurt. ‘I’m just like Dad. I just thought... I thought that...’
