Page 62 of Broken Vows

Maybe he’s torn. With Annabelle, he gets the prestige, her kindness and security. And me? I’m not sure. But whatever he sees in me, the way he studies me, wants to know every part of me—it wraps around my heart and makes me feel almost whole.

What I’m doing is wrong. The lines are blurred, and he’s a client for Christ’s sake. But I made a promise that I’ll never act on my feelings, and I won’t go back on my word.

I slip on a black dress, my impulsive fingers twitching to open the blinds. I know it’s wrong, but the rush of imagining Theo’s eyes burning into me is far too tempting. Is he at the apartment tonight? Does he want to watch me get dressed?

I should have confronted him about the apartment when I had the chance. If a friend or my mom or literally any woman told me a man had rented a place nearby just to watch them through the window, I’d call it what it is: sick. Stalking. I’d tell them to buy a gun and go straight to the cops. Every feminist principle etched into my bones is screaming at me now, warning me how deeply problematic this behavior is.

And yet, I can’t stop secretly loving it.

Ever since I found out about the apartment, I’ve gotten myself off every night with the knowledge that he’s fixed his attention exclusively on me. Maybe it’s awakened something dark and exhibitionistic. Maybe it’s the rush of power—knowing that a man like Theo, who has everything, wants me badly enough to get an apartment and watch me.

That might be the most dangerous part of it all. Because for the first time in my adult life, I feel safe. Watched. Protected.

And somewhere inside of me, the nineteen-year-old girl who crushed hard on Theodore Astor is giddy at the thought that he might be wanting me back.

Then another thought settles in—he remembers me. He has to. There’s no way he rented an apartment opposite to mine after only knowing me a couple of months. Right? Or was he serious that first day when he said he keeps those he doesn’t trust closest to him? It’s impossible to ignore the fact that even if he wants me, he doesn’t fully trust me.

As if he has a sixth sense, my phone rings and my heart skips a beat when I see his name.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey, sorry, I know this is random to call instead of texting,” he says quickly. “But I’m heading out to meet some friends and wanted to tell you that I took next Monday off. Can you move our meeting with the florist to then?”

“Sure,” I say, and because I can’t help myself. “So… what are you doing tonight?”

“Heading to an Irish pub in West Village to watch the Mets while I pretend to give a shit when one of the guys pitches me investment opportunities.”

I chuckle. “Wow, living the dream. What a coincidence, I’ll be a few blocks away at The Cloak and Mirage for a vendor event, pretending to give a shit while a rep pitches ‘exciting growth opportunities’.”

“That does sound terrible,” he says. “My condolences. Remember to hydrate.”

“You ever turn doctor mode off?”

A low chuckle hums through the phone. “Careful what you ask for.”

Yeah. This man absolutely knows what he’s doing.

An hour later, I smack my lipstick, spritz on perfume, and head outside to catch my Uber. I can’t help taking one last glance at Theo’s place, but the drapes are still drawn.

Just two hours of my life I need to give to this party and then I can call it a night.

I silently beg the universe that even though it’s Cody’s company hosting the party, he won’t be here this year. Last time, he trailed me from conversation to conversation, pretentiously droning on about the accounts he’d landed while I smiled through clenched teeth. The real highlight was when he confidently tried to mansplain my own job to me, apparently under the delusion that I needed his guidance to build connections in an industry I’ve spent years working in.

As we drive through the city, I casually start scrolling through social media looking for “Olivia, New York” but my heart isn’t in it. Maybe I don’t want to know who this woman is anymore. I’m no longer interested in destroying Theo. And even if I did find her—what then? It scares me that I no longer know what I’d do next.

Without thinking, I switch to my messages and pull up Theo’s name. I shouldn’t. He said he’s with friends.

Lexie: Did the game start already?

I stare at my screen, waiting for a reply, or at the very least typing bubbles to appear and… nothing. He’s probably enjoying himself and not thinking about me even once. Get over yourself, Lexie.

And then, my phone pings.

Theo: Yes and it already sucks.

Theo: Forgot to mention I bought you something today while out shopping. I’ll bring it to you next time we meet.

A picture pops up of a bottle of Catena Zapapta Adrianna Malbec. Oh my God. Butterflies flip in my belly. I can’t accept this, right? I mean, the wine costs several hundred dollars.