Page 105 of Broken Vows

But I’ll face this with Anna, by her side, for as long as it takes.

As far as Lexie is concerned… I have no fucking idea what I’m going to do.

For now, I glance back at my best friend, grab her hand, and kiss it. “You ready to do this?”

She nods, her smile brighter than I think I’ve ever seen. “Let’s do this.”

48 Lexie

Before I reach the first hour of my drive back to New York City, the burn in my eyes has reached a fever pitch. The tears dried up a long time ago, leaving everything raw and exhausted, desperate for relief. But I have a sinking feeling I won’t find this any time soon. By the second hour, I can’t take it anymore. I pull the rental car up to a gas station, splash cold water on my face in the bathroom, hoping it might help.

It’s useless. My cheeks are red and streaked with ruined mascara, my dress stained with the salty remnants of the tears that slipped past my chin, the pins in my hair are hanging by a literal strand. I pluck them out and toss them into the metal garbage can. I’m a mess. But I don’t want to go home. There’s only one place I want to be.

I book myself a room at a bed and breakfast, and an hour later, the car crunches over gravel as I pull into the Lake Welch public parking lot and kill the engine. I take a moment to breathe. It’s over. This here—the quiet, the hollowness—is my new normal. It’s reminiscent of when I was expelled from school. The pain is different, sharper, more acute. It’s a death of a dream. Back then, the stages of denial skipped immediately to rage. I was riddled with anger and the fierce injustice of being accused of and punished for something I didn’t do. But this is a sadness that cuts me so deep, it’s hard to know if I’ll ever heal from it.

I leave the car to walk through the parking lot, past animated people carrying supplies for the beach. Laughter and splashing water fade into the background as I push through dense birch and oak, twigs snapping beneath my sandaled feet. I continue on until I find a perfect fallen log resting on the edge of the serene water and take a seat.

If my calculations are correct, Theo and Annabelle should be walking down the aisle any minute now. I shoot Justin a quick message telling him where I am, that I’m safe, and that I’m going off-grid for a few days to reset. I grab a few rocks to plop in the water and try to push away the image of them standing in front of the officiant, exchanging rings and promising to love and cherish each other forever.

I need to stop torturing myself.

Maybe if I stay here forever, reality won’t sink in. I hurl rock after rock until my shoulder burns. The physical pain is a welcome distraction.

“Now what?” I whisper into the water, wanting it so badly to provide me with the clarity I’m seeking. But really, now what? I clinch the promotion that I was promised while losing five colleagues, and wrestle with the sickening guilt of getting a raise while they’re being let go.

The sound of twigs crunching behind me grows louder. If this is a bear, I’m out. Seriously, I’m officially fucking out. I shift on the log and look over my shoulder, my breath hitching. For one ridiculous second, I imagine Theo appearing in a tux, begging for forgiveness for what happened in his room, telling me he’s not marrying Annabelle, that we’re running away together to live some sort of impossible fantasy life.

But it’s not him. It’s a bunny.

It looks at me, cocks its head, then disappears back into the forest. I let out a shaky sigh. What am I thinking?

I stay at Lake Welch for hours, as time becomes arbitrary and meaningless. When my butt turns numb from sitting on the log, my belly growls, and my arms ache from tossing rocks into the water, I tuck my feet back into my sandals and slowly start making my way to the car.

I don’t have any more clarity than when I got here, but I do know that Theo is gone. He’s never coming back. And the sooner I accept this, the quicker I can try to move on.

49 Lexie

I’m sure I haven’t slept. The sky is a dark amethyst blue, highlighted by a full moon. I should try to go back to sleep, get rid of this pounding headache, but I know that my attempts for rest will fail. I squeeze my eyes shut, but five minutes later, I force myself to get out of bed.

Last night the owner of the bed and breakfast mentioned that a hiking group would be heading out at six a.m., and I was welcome to join. I’d originally declined—six a.m. is a god-awful hour—but since I’m up anyway, I may as well go.

On the hike, I try to make small talk with the group, but mostly I just walk and watch as a sliver of magenta sun peeks through the trees. Lake Welch holds a cathartic power and I need to absorb it as much as I can while I’m here.

The lake is quiet at this hour. Only a handful of people dot the beach, while a couple wade into the water and push off in a canoe. I walk with the group through the forest, breathing in the water’s mineral scent. It’s so peaceful here. Maybe as part of this whole self-discovery thing, I need to come here once a month.

Hour two melts into hour three. We stop to snack and hydrate, then set off again. I catch myself smiling at the grandma beside me, who somehow has more stamina than the rest of the group combined. By noon, we make our way back to the bed and breakfast, and I consider extending my stay for another night.

The owner of the place is wiping her flour-dusted hands on her apron as I walk up to the front porch area. “Excuse me, Miss Welch, there’s someone waiting for you in the back. By the creek.”

I’m not expecting anyone, and my stomach tightens at the thought that I worried Justin enough to come looking for me.

“He’s been here for hours. I asked him if he needed anything, but he said no.”

After I thank the owner, I follow the walking path from the back of the residence that leads to the creek and my mouth drops.

Theo.

Tuxedo pants, untucked tuxedo shirt. Sitting on top of the picnic table, staring at the water, his back to me.