Page 35 of Broken Vows

Maybe he’s ruined other lives over the years and I’m just another notch on the destruction belt. Maybe he’s done worse.

Seven years later, the memory still burns and he doesn’t remember a thing.

I’m going to be sick.

“I guess you made more of an impression on me than I ever did on you,” I say with a self-deflecting grin. “Honestly, it was so long ago it doesn’t even matter.”

His tense shoulders drop, and his face relaxes. “I’m sorry.” He reaches out, resting a large, warm hand on my shoulder, his bourbon-brown eyes earnest for once. “Med school is like fraternity Rush Week—except it lasts for years. I’m pretty sure by the time I graduated, I barely knew my own name. It’s nothing personal.”

When he pulls his hand away, the heat of his touch lingers, and it makes me rage. Fine. So, he doesn’t remember me. I’ll swallow the sharp stab to my ego and let his lack of recognition go.

But I promise you, after all of this is done, there’s no fucking way he’ll ever forget me again.

16 Lexie

Hi Annabelle and Theo,

Lots of new developments—

Backspace.

Hey friends,

I just wanted to—

Backspace.

Hey Guys! Some news—

What’s my problem? I slam my laptop shut, press my thumbs against my forehead and push out a long, unsatisfying breath. Jesus Christ, I need to snap out of this funk. I should be thrilled that earlier this week the mother of all calls came in that Annabelle’s parents rented a beautiful, hundred-year-old Victorian mansion three hours outside the city with sprawling grounds that can easily accommodate the guest count.

But even with that win, my thoughts keep drifting back to my last conversation with Theo. It’s been over a week since I confronted him and watched for any signs of lying.

He fucking ruined my life, and he doesn’t remember me.

I refuse to dwell on this any longer and head to the breakroom to make what I’m certain is my fifth coffee of the morning. At the table, I message a couple guys back who DM’d me on a dating app, and start my daily lunch break routine of scouring social media for anyone connected to Theo. Last week, I contacted the St. Ben’s alumni office, convinced them I was the assistant of a large donor who was organizing a university fundraiser, and the school gave me the names of all the students in Theo’s graduating class. It’s a shot in the dark, but every lunch break, I pull up each of their social media accounts and scroll through all public photos, praying that one contains the woman from the hotel. Even though she looked much younger than Theo, I keep hoping there’s a connection to someone he knows.

“Hey, what’s up?” Justin says as he tears into a protein bar. “You look frazzled. Even by your standards.”

“Such a dick,” I say, and throw a straw in his general direction, but, just like everything else this week, it falls two feet short of its intended target. “Ugh. I can’t even get that right.”

Justin’s playful smile drops, and he points at the high-top table. I slug over to it like I’m dragging a cinderblock tied to my ankles and drop my forehead against the cool top. I don’t want to do this anymore. Two months in, and Theo’s breaking me. Again.

A moment later, a chair squeaks next to me, and a cup of coffee slides into view. “What can I help with?”

I’m not sure Justin can help untangle the chaos rattling around in my head about Theo. Especially not when I can’t forget how it felt to have his body pressed against mine.

I pull my head off the table and take a sip of the coffee. “Everything just feels… overwhelming right now.”

This is one more thing weighing on me. I want this promotion—I need it—but there’s so much more to do than there was when I was an assistant. I feel like I’m paddling frantically without getting anywhere.

“I know. But it’s got to feel good that the venue piece is done, right?” he says, bringing the mug to his mouth. “I still don’t understand why they aren’t having it at one of the parents’ estates. We’re talking about two families with the combined wealth of some entire countries.”

“I know, right?” Trust me, the very last thing I wanted to do was see Dr. Astor in his home after he was part of the committee who voted for my expulsion, but my guess is that he probably doesn’t remember me. Just like his son. Regardless, the hours spent chasing venues could’ve been spent on a million other things on the wedding to-do list had they just agreed to their families’ estate.

Justin pops a piece of bar in his mouth. “The bride seems pretty cool, but my God, that dude is intense, right?”

I look over my shoulder like Theo might have just walked in. Intense is certainly a way to describe him.