Page 51 of Broken Vows

The words land gently, almost tender—and somehow that makes them hurt more, pricking tears behind my eyelids.

I do look pretty in this lacy, off-the-shoulder, smooth-silhouette dress. The soft cream color brings out the red in my hair, the green in my eyes, my freckles. But my heart sinks—this dress isn’t for me.

“Don’t,” I utter, but it’s half-hearted.

He doesn’t respond. Doesn’t leave. He doesn’t even fucking move. Those eyes are staring at me with so much intensity that my hands tremble. And then, he slides his fingertips down the fabric at my ribcage to my waist.

My eyes flutter closed.

This is all an illusion. This moment, right here, is fake. I’m not really trying on wedding gowns and he’s not really picturing what I’ll look like walking down the aisle.

I can’t breathe.

“Sorry about that,” the woman’s voice sounds from around the corner.

My entire body stiffens, Theo takes a step back.

“A customer stopped by for a pick-up.” Her bracelets bang with a metallic tink as she clasps her hands. “Well, this is absolutely stunning. And fits like a glove, doesn’t it? This is definitely a contender, but we’ve still got more to try on.”

I sigh.

The next dress is buttery soft, the strapless feminine sweetheart neckline makes a deep cleavage, and the cinched waist with the gentle, ballgown silhouette makes me feel like a princess. If I ever get married, I’m going with something like this.

If.

Every second I spend trying on dresses for the bride of the man I’m slowly losing my mind over makes those dreams disappear like a feather in a windstorm.

God, help me. Is it the low lighting? This dance we’re doing while dress shopping? Or could I actually be falling for Theo?

“What do you think?” she asks, turning to Theo who is sitting on the sofa, with a deep frown. “Dr. Astor? Do you like this one?”

He doesn’t even respond.

Instead, Theo’s gaze drags slowly over me. The dress is beautiful. It fits me perfectly—hugging where the others pinched or sagged. “Do you want to grab a video of this one?” the woman asks.

“No.” The word snaps, sharp enough to make me flinch.

I gape at him, stunned. What in the actual hell? Who does he think he is, snapping at a woman who’s just trying to help, when I’m the one bending over backward so his fiancée can find a gown for their goddamn wedding?

He bolts up and storms away. The air tightens instantly, like he’s drained the room of everything good and left only misery behind.

Do not cry. Do not cry. I clamp my lip between my teeth and skulk back to the dressing room, my body dragging like it weighs a million pounds.

“Oh no…” the assistant says, following me into the fitting area. “I think the groom had enough for today. It’s a shame he didn’t like this one, but the right dress will come along. Why don’t you get undressed and we’ll call it an evening.”

I nod and slump onto the cushioned bench, the disappointment settling heavy in my chest that tonight wasn’t a success and we’ll have to try again.

I reach for the zipper when the velvet curtain rustles open.

“Theo?” I gasp, as he steps inside and pulls it shut behind him. “What are you doing? You can’t be in here.”

“I wanted to talk,” he starts. “I shouldn’t have stormed off like that. It’s a—”

His phone rings, cutting him off. He squeezes his eyes shut in frustration before pulling the phone out, glancing quickly at the screen and angling it away from me.

Not fast enough, though.

Olivia.