Page 45 of Broken Vows

She looks at me sideways, and exhales resignedly. Then she dives in about being fatigued, which she attributes to the dreary winter, but became concerned when she’d fall asleep right after dinner and not wake up again until morning. She describes the dizziness, frequency, what time of day. As she continues, I pay attention to what she’s saying, of course, but my gaze keeps shifting to Theo. He’s attentive, kind, and precise—asking probing questions while never once crossing a professional line.

He removes his stethoscope from his neck. “Is it okay if I listen to your heart?” When she nods, he listens to her heart, then lungs. He asks her to breathe, he checks her eyes, her mouth, feels along her neck. He presses his fingers into her stomach, asking over and over, “Is this tender? Does this hurt?”

I’m invisible. He focuses on her completely—careful, thorough—and my heart lurches, small, unwelcome, at his tenderness. It starts racing when he coaxes a smile out of her, casually bonding over The Bachelorette playing in the background, which happens to be my mom’s favorite show. My mouth drops when Theo admits he’s never missed an episode. All the while he keeps working, seamlessly checking her eyes, skin, performing what I assume is a more in-depth concussion exam, as they commiserate over one particular season, where the Bachelorette apparently chose the wrong winner.

“Who do you think she should’ve picked?” Mom asks as he guides her to standing and checks her balance.

“Runner-up four,” he says with a grin. “Hands down.”

“Yes! I thought the same.” She gives him a squeeze on the forearm. “The one she ended up with was an asshat. I bet they’re divorced by now.”

He chuckles, nodding his agreement, and continues his exam.

Tears well in my eyes and I blink them down. He’s showing my mom respect. A woman who deserves it more than anyone I know but doesn’t always get it. He’s not treating her like some hotel housekeeper from Queens with scuffed shoes and a decade-old work uniform.

He’s treating her as an equal.

“Lexie,” he says, “I’ve finished here. I’m going to run down to the lab and see if I can pull in a favor to get her tests expedited.”

“Okay, I’ll stay here and wait.”

He shakes his head, a faint frown forming. “No, your mom needs her rest. There’s nothing more we can do right now, and she seems to be recovering well.”

“Yes, sweetie,” my mom adds gently. “Go home. I’m in good hands, thanks to Dr. Astor. I’ll be just fine.” At her insistence, I nod.

“If you want to say goodbye now, I’ll have one of the nurses bring you to my office and you can wait until I’m back. Okay?”

I don’t want to leave my mom, but trust that they’re both doing what’s best for her. After I hug my mom goodbye, I follow the nurse into the adjoining building and in the direction of Theo’s office. The wine buzz is long gone, my stomach knotted, and my heart unsteady.

Jesus Christ what a day.

But the relief is tremendous that my mom will be okay.

“Dr. Astor said to make yourself comfortable,” the nurse says as she unlocks Theo’s office door and holds it open for me. “He’s got snacks in the lower right drawer, and bottles of electrolytes in the mini fridge behind his desk.” I thank her, step inside and close the door.

Reality hits me hard. This isn’t my world. I’ve never belonged in this world. Yes, obviously I know Theo is a doctor. But being here now, seeing how he spends his days, unsettles me. I feel like a kid at the grown-up table, trying not to say or do anything stupid.

I peer around the room. The office is much smaller than I thought it’d be. Only the size of maybe two exam rooms, but it feels like him. Cherrywood-framed degrees hang on his wall alongside a framed picture of him and his staff, and a beautiful abstract painting that probably cost as much as my yearly rent. He’s only got two chairs, the cushy leather one behind his u-shaped desk and the wooden one in front that’s clearly there as a means of punishment. It feels weird, like I’m invading his space, but I sink into the leather one and rest my head on his desk.

A low-grade headache starts to pound against my skull. I need water. Between the sugar and wine, my entire body is probably severely dehydrated. I grab a coconut water from the fridge and slam half down, but I need aspirin. It’s a doctor’s office… he must have some, right?

The nurse said I could help myself, so he can’t be too upset if I dig around for aspirin. I open drawer after drawer, finding office supplies, the snacks the nurse mentioned—if gluten free, organic protein bars even count—and a stethoscope. But no aspirin. With my headache pulsing, I yank open the last untouched drawer and rummage through more notebooks and supplies, until my fingers close around a crumpled-up Post-it note. Curiosity gets the best of me.

“Olivia, Feb 13, 1pm, Silver Crescent Hotel, Financial District.”

Olivia. The date clicks—it’s the same day I saw Theo and that woman at the hotel.

Who is she? My hands scramble, reopening the drawers with new intent, searching for any scrap of buried information. There has to be something else in here.

But at least I have a name now.

It’s not much to go by, but it can help narrow down the online search a little more.

My headache already forgotten, I hastily pore through his notebooks, hoping something will reveal itself. I’m so focused on what I’m doing that I barely notice a presence in the room—until they clear their throat. I look up, jumping out of my skin when I see Theo.

He’s deathly silent and I can hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I offer what I hope is an innocent smile. “Oh, ah, hey,” fuck, fuck, fuck. “The, um, the nurse said I could grab a snack from your drawers if needed.”

My face is on fire. My chest even more so. If I look him in the eye any longer my irises might scorch. “Hope that’s okay.”