Page 36 of Broken Vows

“He’s hot as fuck, though,” he whispers.

“Oh, I hadn’t really noticed,” I say, aiming for nonchalance but knowing that I’ve missed completely.

He laughs. “You are so full of shit. Please, it’s insulting that we’ve worked together this long and you still try to pull that with me.” Justin looks like he’s going to say more on the subject, then veers in another direction. “You know what might be good for you?” he says. “Going on a date. Getting laid. Getting drunk. Something. You need to let loose.”

He’s not wrong. But now that Theo’s back in my life, it’s like my body’s tethered to him again, refusing to budge. I’m not sure a hook-up will satisfy anything at this point.

“God, why can’t I just find someone like Dylan?” I say, holding the mug between my palms. “I swear your relationship is what greeting cards are made from.”

Justin grins. “You’re not wrong. I got lucky.” He claps off the crumbs from his hands, crumples the wrapper, and gives my hand a squeeze. “You know the right guy’s out there waiting for you. Just have to give him a chance.”

The last person I tried to give a real chance to is the man whose wedding I’m planning.

“Hey, Lexie,” Amanda’s voice from the hall cuts through my thought downward spiral. “Sydney wants to see you in her office for an update on the Barlowe wedding.”

I give Justin a hug of gratitude, finish my coffee, and make my way down the hall, pushing away untoward thoughts of Theo as I try to do my job.

Sydney’s been off-site a lot lately, and with my busy schedule, we haven’t had a chance to sync in-person for what feels like weeks. I knock on her open door, and she waves me in. “You wanted to see me?” I ask.

“Yes. I can’t find the latest update on your project plan and I don’t have time to chase you down for all the details.”

Great. All I need is Sydney stressed out, too. “I’m in the middle of updating it now.” I’m lying. I hadn’t planned on doing that until tomorrow when I had an hour of free time. “I curated a list of caterers who’ll work outside of the city, gathered sample menus, and confirmed the county laws for a one-day alcohol permit. We’ve also narrowed down the colors to three sets and locked on invitations.”

“Good,” she says with a firm nod. “Did you call the table and chair rental place?”

I swallow. Dammit. Not yet, because there are literally not enough hours in the day. I know I’m ready to be lead, but there’s an endless number of details and so little time to get everything sorted. “Oh, um, I’ll get on that today.”

“Perfect.” Sydney nods. “You’re doing great, Lexie. It’s a huge, high-profile wedding and you’re really stepping up. I see your efforts.”

I soften. As supportive as Sydney is, she doesn’t easily hand out compliments. Her smile drops when she looks at a ping on her phone.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

It takes her too long to respond.

“Sydney?”

A heavy exhale leaves her ruby red lips. “Let’s just say it’s very good that we’ve landed a two-million dollar client.” The words are so weighty I feel like they’re stuck in the air. “I trust you’re doing everything possible to ensure the couple is happy—we can’t afford for them to back out.”

The words spark a flicker of guilt through me. Yes, I’m doing everything I can to make them happy. For now. But I’m counting on Annabelle to back out. Once I reviewed the legal contract and saw that the couple is required to pay all fees if they cancel the wedding within thirty days of their wedding date, I finally breathed a sigh of relief. Sydney cannot revoke my promotion if we collect our fees.

Which means, Annabelle can leave Theo for a better life, I still get my promotion, and he will be destroyed.

For the first time today, a genuine smile builds.

I turn to leave the office, then pause. “Hey, from now on, could you maybe not give my home address to clients?”

Sydney thumbs up her dark frames and her eyebrows crease. “What are you talking about?”

Well, this is awkward. I don’t love calling out my manager’s mistakes to her face. “When you gave my address to Theo so he could pick me up for our meeting. I just… I mean… the intention was nice, but in the future, please don’t.”

The ticking on her wall clock, the phones ringing in the lobby, and street traffic twenty floors below are the only sounds as she studies my face. “Lexie,” she says, after a long moment. “I didn’t give anyone your address.”

17 Theo

The stairway to the studio apartment smells like musty concrete and unwashed floors, lit just well enough to avoid a lawsuit. It’s dark, dank, and gives off the distinct vibe that someone was once murdered here. I step onto the fifth-floor hallway, passing the neighbors’ doors with the sounds of couples arguing, TVs blaring and more. I hate this depressing-as-fuck building. But the second I unlock my door and step inside the studio, everything loosens. My chest relaxes. I can breathe.

I fucking love this studio.