Page 95 of Broken Vows

Choppy, dark, fevered dreams scatter my mind, and I blink open to my mom gently shaking my shoulders. “Come on,” she says, holding out her hands. I shake my head. “It’s been three days. You need a shower, food, and to get up off this couch.”

I pull the blanket over my face.

She snaps the blanket off me and points to the bathroom. “Now, Gemma.” The sharp tone is one I haven’t heard since I was a kid, and it makes me straighten. I stumble into the shower like anchors are attached to my legs. Under the hot shower, I cry some more, swear, lean my head against the wall, but finally, finally, something in me releases.

I spend the rest of the evening eating one of Mom’s classic ham sandwiches with mustard, that for some reason tastes delicious, eating a half of a package of saltines with peanut butter, and guzzling back what feels like gallons of water. My mom drags my feet into her lap and polishes my toenails pink. This simple act of normalcy makes me crack, and I tell her everything.

She doesn’t judge, doesn’t rage, doesn’t even say that she’s going to kill Theo for what he did to me in college. She just listens, fans my toes with her hands, and brings me more water. Before I settle back into the couch, she picks up my empty plate and wrappers, and glances sideways at me. “He didn’t go about it in the right way, but sounds like Theo may have saved my baby girl back then.” She scrapes the cracker crumbs from the table on to the plate, then dusts off her hands. “Now, it’s time for you to get back to work. I didn’t raise no quitter. You’re my daughter. Strong and fierce. Time to act like it.”

The next day, I finally leave my mother’s house (I think much to her relief), go back to my studio, and force myself not to open the blinds to check if Theo’s light is on across the street. I sleep in my own bed, I change into something other than the pajamas I’ve been wearing for days and make my way to work.

When I arrive, I make up a terrible excuse to Amanda and Megan about having the worst fever and flu of my life. At my desk, I skirt Justin’s eyes, who’s watching my every movement as I set down my backpack and reach for my laptop.

“Feeling better?” he asks.

“Yep,” I say, and it’s not a lie. I’m not over Theo. I don’t think I’ll ever be over Theo. But I’ve at least stopped crying like I’m being held hostage and tears are a condition of my release. “That was… um, an intense week.”

Justin’s silent. Too silent. I plug in my laptop, sure that when I look up, I’ll see his “no bullshit side eye”. Instead, a frown curves his mouth and my heart pinches.

“Want to talk about it?”

My chin quivers and I shake my head.

“Okay. I’m here whenever you need me.”

Not if, but when.

I love my friend.

My fellow co-workers move around me like nothing has changed. Soft chatter. A few laughs here and there. The steady click of keyboards. Clearly, Sydney is still deciding who she’s cutting, and I’m still clinging on to the hope of a Hail Mary—some miracle that lets us all keep our jobs.

The thought that half of these people will be gone in the next month makes my stomach turn. Against all odds, this place became my home away from home, and I’m not ready to watch the doors close.

I go back to check my schedule for today and freeze when I spot a particular meeting in my calendar. “Actually, I need your help.” I turn to Justin. “Annabelle and Theo are coming in soon for their appointment. Will you take it?” When his eyes narrow, I quickly add, “Who knows if I’m still contagious. I’d hate to get either one of them sick before the wedding.”

I think he knows I’m lying. But he nods anyway.

When they arrive, Justin leaps up to greet them and I run to hide in the breakroom. But I can’t stop myself from looking back. Annabelle’s arm is looped through Theo’s, her body pressed into his side. He leans toward her, solid and steady. The sight steals the breath from my lungs.

Before the tears can spill, I shut the door.

Inside, I pretend to focus—scrolling through emails on my phone and double checking my project plan, until the soft click of the door breaks the quiet.

I turn and Theo stands there.

“Can we please talk?” he says, taking one step towards me then stopping.

I cross my arms. “We have absolutely nothing to talk about.”

His jaw goes tight before he exhales a breath. “I am so fucking sorry for everything.”

I want to break down, to cry, to collapse into his arms, but I don’t. “Your words are worthless. You lied to me for months. Months. You had every opportunity to tell the truth and you chose not to.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Fair? Fair? You want to talk about fucking fair?” I snap with a harsh, hushed tone. “You told me you never met me, you told me you weren’t going to get married, and you made me feel… this…” my chin trembles but I force it to stop.

“I’m so sorry, but you need to understand why I didn’t tell you.”