Page 25 of Broken Vows

Annabelle places her hand on Theo’s forearm. “Would you grab us the drinks from over there?” she says, pointing to a small, open café tucked in the corner of the lobby. “Lexie and I will find a table.”

Theo glances at the line that contains at least twenty people and a heavy deflated breath escapes him before he joins the coffee-seekers.

Annabelle smiles and watches Theo as he weaves through a small crowd of hotel visitors towards the café. As soon as he’s several feet away, her smile drops, and she turns still. “I think we need to talk.”

12 Lexie

Annabelle’s words send a ripple of fear through me. Has she been waiting all this time to corner me about what happened between Theo and me in the lobby? I’m not even sure how to name it myself—but whatever it was, it wasn’t what I’d planned for today, and it certainly didn’t feel innocent.

I guide her to a small table in the center of the floor while actively trying not to pass out. “Is everything okay?”

Once we slink into the chairs, she glances behind her shoulder to where Theo’s standing in line and sighs. “I can’t stop thinking about our conversation.” Oh, thank God. “And, well, you signed an NDA, so this is confidential, right?”

“Yes, of course,” I say as I prop my elbows on the table and lean forward.

After another deep breath, she says, “In your experience, can you tell when a couple isn’t going to make it?”

Oh, shit. She just dove right in and skipped all conversational foreplay. I get the sense she doesn’t have a lot of people she can confide in. There’s no mom or doting mother-in-law, no maid of honor at her side, no best friend. The best she’s got is practically a stranger who’s paid to help plan her wedding. I should keep things professional, but the notes of vulnerability in her voice, the way her eyes search mine for reassurance, makes me put aside my biases. She needs a friend right now, not someone holding on to a near decade-long grudge.

“Every couple’s situation is different, and it’s hard to give you a black and white answer.” I steal a glance at Theo from the corner of my eye, measuring how long Annabelle and I have before he returns. Theo will have my head if he finds out we’re having this conversation.

As if he could hear my thoughts, he turns towards us and his gaze catches mine. His eyes narrow, clearly not trusting me—I honestly don’t blame him—and a sick satisfaction grows knowing I have this power over him. The line moves forward and he shifts back to the counter. A warm hand on my own shakes my attention back to Annabelle.

What am I doing? She doesn’t deserve any of this. I need to choose my words carefully and make sure she hears me, because someone like her deserves happiness.

“But I can try to help if you tell me what’s going on,” I continue. “In my experience working in the industry, I’ve picked up on certain patterns.”

With a shaky finger, she tucks a long, dark lock behind her ear. “When we started talking about getting married, it just… made sense. I mean, I’ve known him my whole life. We’ve been on and off since we were teenagers.” She exhales, thin and unsteady. “It felt like the inevitable next step. And our families—” She shakes her head. “That part’s complicated. There are expectations.” Her hand twists her ring. “And… shit.” She glances over her shoulder again. “So, what are the patterns?”

I take a moment, choosing my words carefully. “There’s one thing I’ve noticed over the years,” I say softly. “When couples are excited—or even nervous—they usually become more themselves.”

Her brow furrows, but she doesn’t interrupt.

“They have stronger opinions, clearer preferences. More emotional presence,” I continue. “Even anxiety has an energy to it. It takes up space.” I hesitate, then add, “Excitement does too.”

Theo still hasn’t moved up the line. I refocus on Annabelle.

“But when you and Theo first came in,” I say gently, “what stood out to me wasn’t nerves or excitement. It was how… careful you seemed.”

Her fingers continue twisting the ring.

“Like you were editing yourself,” I continue. “Choosing your words. Shrinking your reactions. As if part of you was already adjusting to fit the future instead of imagining it.”

She swallows.

“That doesn’t mean the relationship is wrong,” I say quickly. “But when someone starts to feel smaller—quieter—before the marriage even begins, that’s something worth paying attention to.” I meet her eyes. “Because marriage shouldn’t require you to disappear.”

I let the silence stretch, giving her space to sit with it.

I remember feeling like something was off and couldn’t pinpoint what it was. But after stewing, it became clear. Brides especially are giddy, ask a ton of questions, and usually take their own notes. When I escort them from our office, they pepper in more and more questions until the elevator pings.

But Annabelle was more indifferent than smiley.

So, yes. I’m just doing my public service duty by pointing this out. But I’m also saving her. No doubt in my mind that she’ll be better off without Theo.

Through the hum of travelers rolling bags, phone conversations, and the soft hiss of espresso brewing, she stays silent as her gaze sweeps the hotel lobby.

Theo inches closer to the barista, and my pulse thuds harder. The cheek gnawing and ring spinning increases, but she’s silent. Theo’s now chatting with the barista and pulling out his wallet. Come on, Annabelle. She’s so close, but our window for talk time is narrowing by the second.