Page 59 of Broken Vows

Dad: Your mother has been trying to reach you. You are a grown man, capable of making your own decisions, and more than capable of reaching out to the woman who gave you life. It appears you are too busy for your own mother. Take a moment and think if she passed tomorrow, how you would settle knowing you refused to return a call.

It’s taken me a long time to break my cycle, but I am not responsible for my parents’ emotions. Fuck, I can barely keep my own feelings in check. But my father doesn’t know why I choose to keep my mother at a safe distance. How I can no longer stomach her enabling his behavior. Neither of them deserves my time.

Instead, the person I want to spend time with, I’ve somehow pushed her away. Because what? She exercised her free will as an adult woman to have sex? I hate the rage that fills me thinking of what they did. And yet, it’s so deeply unjust. I’m getting married. She fucked someone. This is not the same.

The fury grows, and yet the ravenous need to be around her fortifies.

I pick up the phone and text.

Theo: I know its last minute, but wondering if you wanted to grab breakfast then hit up the Chelsea Market to look for guests’ gifts?

To my surprise, three dots appear immediately. I stop breathing.

Lexie: there just so happens to be the best crepe place in my neighborhood.

I know the place she’s talking about. It is really fucking good.

Theo: Perfect. Will you shoot me the name and address of the restaurant?

Theo: Me and my driver will pick you up at ten.

Two hours later, I’m standing outside of Lexie’s building waiting for her to come down. I lean against the building and stuff my hands in my pockets. Wait, this looks like I’m posing. I stand. I pace. I stuff them back in my pockets then remove them again.

Breathe.

I have no idea how she’ll act. Will she bring up what happened at the dress shop and want to talk about it? Christ, I hope not. What the hell would I even say? That she’s possessed me? That I wanted to tear off the dress and taste her in the dressing room?

And… does she actually know I live in the studio across from her? Maybe. No? Fuck. I exhale. She can’t know. How would she? And yet, her blinds have stayed shut ever since she closed them with that middle finger aimed at the window. That could’ve meant anything—a fuck you to the universe, even. She can’t know. Right?

My thoughts keep swirling, when I hear the apartment door swing open.

Goddammit, she takes my breath away. Always. Even today, in jeans, sneakers, her crimson hair tugged into a ponytail, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

“Hey!” she says with a wide smile, a quick wave, and zero torment.

Maybe this isn’t awkward for her. Maybe she loves fucking with me. Maybe I’m overreacting for nothing.

“Thanks for picking me up,” she says. “I’m so excited to hit the market. I haven’t been there in forever.”

I open the door, she slides in, and I try hard to not stare at her phenomenal ass. “Are you more excited for the market or crepes? Be honest.”

“Crepes, of course. But the market’s a close second.” She snaps the seatbelt with a grin. “I’m surprised you suggested going to be honest. I thought we were good on the guest gifts.”

She’s already starting to see through my lie. But I couldn’t stand the idea of going one more day without seeing her. “Yeah, I panicked. I think we need more.”

She lifts a brow. “Theo Astor panicked? That’s a side of you I’ve never seen. What other pieces of you are you hiding?”

A moment passes when I drop my gaze to her plush, pillowy lips, then lock with her eyes. “More than you can know.”

Once we’re seated at the restaurant, I order a chicken spinach crepe. Lexie orders one loaded with strawberries, chocolate, and extra whipped cream—while also giving me shit that I need to live a little and get more sugar in my life. I take a sip from my coffee and figure out how best to approach the conversation with her.

“So,” I ask casually, “how come I haven’t seen you much lately?”

“Oh, you know,” she says, “I’ve been busy.” We both know it’s a lie. She’s not making this easy for me.

“Look, I asked you here today because I wanted to apologize for how I acted in the dress shop. We’re planning a wedding together—” I try not to let myself think too much into these words “—and I want us to be on good terms.”

She peeks up at me through dark eyelashes. “Yeah, I think that’s for the best.” She clears her throat. “Thank you. I really do appreciate it.”