Page 68 of Broken Vows

Not the wedding, not Anna, not my commitments. The blood.

It’s stupid. It’s so fucking stupid, but she has this vise grip on me that won’t release.

But that mouth… now that I’ve tasted those dangerous lips, I’m obsessed. I need more. I slump onto the couch and push my thumbs into my forehead. The way her lips moved against mine, plush and full and needy. Her velvet tongue. The way she kissed me back, frantic and urgent… it won’t leave me. That beautiful mouth worked me. Her tongue owned me.

I grab my phone and send what feels like the hundredth message tonight.

Theo: Can we talk?

My breath locks when I finally see the three bubbles pop up.

Lexie: fuck you

I toss the phone. Not that I expected anything else.

Maybe it’s good that she doesn’t want to talk, because what the hell would I say? That she’s the most beautifully addictive poison, and I need her to stop being who she is so I can breathe again? God, I need this wedding to be over so I can cut her out of my life, completely.

But even thinking that feels like someone kicked me in the chest, and now, I’m back to not breathing. Fuck.

How am I supposed to go on without her? This part of me, something that started as a parasite that I wanted to rid myself of, is now etched into the deepest part of my soul. I’ve known Anna my entire life, but somehow it feels like Lexie knows more of me, the authentic me, all of me.

Time is so limited, slipping through my fingers with the speed of a jetliner. So, what the hell am I doing, not soaking up every bit I can? Yes, she doesn’t want to speak to me because she doesn’t know everything. But I can’t tell her, can I? Only Anna knows about the investigation, and even she doesn’t know everything. And with the wedding… there’s so many legalities guaranteeing silence that the details may as well be in a reinforced steel vault.

And when I’m married… Lexie would never be the other woman. Not that I’d ever ask her to. I’d want to be with her, fully. Devoted. Show her the world, treat her to everything she wants. She’d be my pride. My heart. Not someone I keep hidden.

I throw my wet towel aside, flex my burning fingers, and drag myself to the shower. The heated water does nothing to ease the tension. Everything is tight. My shoulders. My chest. My fucking heart.

My heart.

I stand under the stream for close to an hour, doing nothing but thinking. I need to fix this. But how? After I step out, I peek one more time across the street but already know her blinds will be closed. I tug the covers over me, but sleep is non-existent as I toss and turn in bed.

My thoughts are swirling, constantly drifting back to how she looked at me before she left. Hurt filled her beautiful eyes. And I should’ve been happy. I’ve wanted, craved, to see the hurt. Payback for toying with me back in the day. But the way her eyes mirrored my broken insides killed me. Why did her hurt hurt me? This is what I wanted, wasn’t it?

I blink at the clock, see not much time has passed. Christ. I’m not going to sleep for the rest of my life. Maybe I don’t deserve sleep. Maybe this is my punishment.

After the wedding, there’ll be no reason to see Lexie. The thought clamps down on my chest so hard I have to sit up to force air back between my ribs. After the wedding, I have to give up the studio, I’ll be moving in with Anna, I have to put Lexie out of my mind.

God, I hate this. My insides are torn, my brain is split. Each side is on an infinite fight loop with the other, and at any given moment, I don’t know which side is going to win. My love and loyalty to Anna and my promise to her, and my insatiable need to be with Lexie. I press my thumb above the bridge of my nose and exhale.

Everything’s spinning out of control. Throughout my entire life, I’ve prided myself on control. I live for control. But Lexie knocks me off alignment, and I can’t think clearly when she’s around. I was top of my class in medical school, the youngest attendee at my clinic, I’ve written scholarly articles that have been published in world-renowned medical journals, and yet I can’t fucking think when I’m around Lexie.

Finally, at six a.m. I pick up the phone and call the only person who can help me.

Anna.

30 Lexie

My fuzzy white bathrobe normally provides me with some comfort, but today, it’s not working. I unravel my dripping hair from the towel, which I toss in the laundry basket, and drag myself to the kitchen. Even though I stood in the shower until my skin nearly shriveled, I still feel dirty from what happened last night.

Cody. Maybe I should be worried. But I’m not. A man like that has probably done—and will continue to do—worse things. Maybe Theo taught him a lesson.

Theo. I want to erase his image, how he made me feel, the way my body burned, but I can’t and I’m furious that I can’t. But the way he spoke to me, threatening me because of whoever this Olivia woman is, gutted me.

God, why, why, why does the idea that this woman is more important to him than me make me want to cry? The man’s getting married. I’m planning his goddamn wedding. I shouldn’t be getting upset over him.

I need to get my head on straight. Starting now. I’m going to go for a long jog, come back, drink buckets of coffee, read a book by the window, and not think of Theodore Astor for one more second.

A knock on my apartment door makes my head jolt. No one ever comes here. The clock shows it’s barely after eight a.m. I tug my robe tighter at the chest, tiptoe to the door, and look through the peephole.