Page 32 of Broken Vows

“I asked if you’ve ever been here before,” he says as he flips open the menu.

“Oh, ah, nope. Excited to try it, though.” I scan the menu and exhale through the ridiculous prices while reminding myself that I’m out with a client, so I can expense the meal.

“Hey there, welcome,” the server says with a bright smile. “What can I get you two love birds?”

“Oh God no. We are not here, together, like… that,” I say, quickly. “This is a business lunch.”

“Oops.” The server grins and poises his pen. “Let me tell you about the lunch specials. Today we have buttered gnocchi…”

After we put in our order, I squeeze lemon into the ice water, and glance at Theo across the table. “Sounds like Annabelle arrived in Italy, safely, huh?”

“Yes, she did,” he says, his voice, his face, everything, neutral. He should be panicking and distraught that his bride-to-be is across the world and not here to help plan their wedding. But he’s not—and it’s unsettling. “She’s been contemplating going there for a few weeks. I think it’ll be good for her, even though she’s a little worried not everything will get done on time.”

The server places a breadbasket in the middle of the table. Theo hands me the basket before he reaches for a roll himself.

“I have no doubt we have things under control,” I say.

“Agreed,” he says as he cuts a slice of butter. “Looks like we’re going to be spending lots of time together, Lexie.”

The bread feels lumpy in my throat. I swallow. While I wanted Annabelle away from Theo, I didn’t necessarily relish the thought of spending more time with him. “Looks like it,” I say, avoiding his eyes.

We settle into an easy, much easier than anticipated, conversation about movies, the best pizza in the city, and me nudging him that if these venues today don’t work, we have to go to plan B: destination or one of the parents’ properties.

He glares when I mention the latter option.

The server breaks the moment to set down our plates. “There’s a question I’ve been meaning to ask you since the first time we met,” Theo says, and my heart races at the thought that he finally remembers me. This is it. The recognition, the confrontation, everything spilling into the open—

“Tell me, am I the best client you’ve worked with?”

I sputter. “Really? That’s your question?”

He nods, already cutting into his chicken. “See, I have a reputation to uphold. I can’t be letting the Astor name down.”

I hate that his arrogance makes me grin, and I tamper down the frustration that yet again I never mattered to him. “The jury’s still out,” I say, schooling my face into a mock-serious expression. “Though Annabelle did warn me I’d have my work cut out.”

“Oh, I bet she did. She looks all sweet and innocent, but you can’t trust anything she says.”

My phone vibrates in my purse, interrupting the moment. Normally when I’m with a client, I’d silence it without a second thought. But after my mom’s recent health relapse, I’m abnormally paranoid. I sneak a glance at the screen, relief pouring over me when it’s only Justin. I hit decline. “Sorry about that.”

“You’re a popular woman. I can see why you’re hard to pin down,” Theo remarks. There’s a faint edge to his tone, as if he doesn’t like the fact I speak to other people. And there’s a small part of me that shouldn’t like this the way I do.

Before I can respond, my phone lights up on the table and I reach for it—catching Theo sneaking a glance.

I laugh softly at Justin’s message, another half-baked attempt to set me up with one of the vendors he’s working with on a wedding assignment. Justin is relentless in his search for a perfect mate for me.

“A new date, I presume?” This time Theo’s voice is unnervingly still, and a thin line of awareness prickles the back of my neck. With any other client I’d deflect the question. But Theo isn’t the type to let things go. He’d keep pushing until he got his answer.

An irrational urge sparks to test the intent behind his curiosity.

“Yes.” The lie slips out easily.

Though not a total lie, as maybe tonight I should reinstall the dating apps. I’ve got too much unchanneled sexual energy, and it needs somewhere to go before I do something stupid.

Theo pins me with a sharp gaze before he bites into the chicken and swallows. “I imagine sitting here, with me, on a Saturday, is killing your social life.”

“You’re a client. It’s my job to be here with you.”

He sets his fork at the edge of his plate and crosses his arms. “So, I’m just a job?”