Page 103 of Broken Vows

I’m not a good man. I don’t deserve either of these women. But everything has come to a head and I’m running out of solutions. I can’t walk away from Anna. But I can’t be with Lexie either. I need to protect her from me, from who I really am, from the sick, broken part of me. Even though my insides burn at the thought of her being with another man, maybe letting her go is the only way she’ll find someone more worthy.

A twisted, unhinged piece of me welcomes this torment. Maybe pain is atonement. Maybe through my suffering, it will set Lexie back on the life she deserves.

I drag myself to the window and watch the wedding preparations in full swing, but feel none of the excitement a groom should on his wedding day.

My phone sits heavy in my pocket. I know what I need to do. I’m going to be married in a few hours, and I can’t hold on to this past any longer. My fingers hover over Lexie’s photos I have saved on my phone. From the sexy selfies she sent me, to one of me kissing her cheek, to the snaps I took of her when she was sleeping. I need to let her go. I don’t deserve to hang on to her like this. Even though it’s going to fucking kill me, I pull in a full breath, hit delete, and push on through the pain.

She’s gone. In every sense of the word, Lexie is gone from my life, and everything in me breaks.

A knock on the door jars me from where I’m standing, and I hate that for a fleeting moment, I wonder if she returned. But when I open it to see Lexie’s friend Justin standing there with a stern look, I’m both relieved and disappointed.

A silent standoff ensues between us. He clearly loves her, and even though I’m raging that he gets to be with her for the rest of his life, I’m also grateful she has someone who won’t abandon her like I did. I brace myself for whatever he’s going to give me. I’ll take it. I deserve it. Will he tell me I’m a piece of shit who ruined her life? That I deserve nothing but misery? Is he going to hit me—because right now, wedding day or not, I’d let him.

Instead, he says, “Can I get you anything to eat or drink?” When I shake my head, he checks his watch. “Photos start in thirty minutes.”

When he turns to leave, I take a step forward. “Is she gone?”

His shoulders brace, and he slowly turns to face me. “Yeah.”

I exhale through my nose. I already knew this, but hoped that maybe, as fucked up as it is, she’d stay for my wedding. “Is she coming back?”

His jaw flexes and the words that must be on the tip of his tongue—because how can they not be, how can anyone who loves her not want to defend, protect, and honor her in every regard—he swallows back. A long moment passes when he straightens his back. “No.”

And then he closes the door.

The hollow ache in my gut spreads and totally consumes me.

My wedding day.

The loneliest day of my life.

47 Theo

After Justin leaves, I pace the room, thoughts ricocheting between Lexie and the courtyard where I’ll soon take vows that were never intended for Anna and me. I don’t stop until a knock breaks the silence. It’s probably Justin, returning to finally throw the punch I know he’s been itching to release. But when I open the door, I sigh.

Anna.

She’s in one of the dresses that Lexie tried on, her long dark hair pinned back, her make-up heavier than normal. She looks incredible.

But no amount of make-up can hide the look that’s mirrored on my own face—despair.

“You look beautiful.” A lump grows in my throat. I want to be strong for her, tell her that everything will be okay, but I’m too broken.

And clearly, so is she.

She tugs on my hand and guides me to the bed. After she smooths her dress underneath her and sits down, she pats the mattress, and I take a seat. “You know what I was thinking about today?”

I focus on the way she’s spinning her engagement ring, and sigh. “What’s that?”

“Do you remember the time when we were like, fourteen, maybe fifteen, and we stole that bottle of Scotch from my parents?”

Despite my mood, a chuckle escapes. “How could I forget? I’m not sure what made me sicker that night—your father screaming at me, or my inexperience with booze.” Even with how much I drank that night, I remember most of the evening pretty clearly. It was one of the million movie nights Anna and I enjoyed together as kids, but we were bored and restless and thought getting drunk for the first time sounded like a good idea. “I remember thinking, your dad’s a billionaire. Why’s he so mad? He can just buy another bottle.”

“Right? Like how were we supposed to know it was a gift from a Prime Minister?” She grins. “But I specifically remember you taking the heat and telling my dad it was your idea to ransack his whiskey room, even though we both knew damn well I forced you into it.”

And I’d do it again in a heartbeat. “What made you think of that night?”

She shrugs. “I just keep going over all the moments in my life where you’ve been there for me. From elementary school, when you tore into my bullies, to junior high, when you sat with me at lunch after those girls turned on me, to letting me snot cry on your shoulder over that stupid crush on an older boy… God, what was his name?”