Page 75 of Broken Vows

“What?” The chopstick nearly slides from my fingers. They haven’t had sex for nearly a decade? Why? I have so many invasive questions burning on the tip of my tongue and it takes everything in me to not pepper him with them all.

“Yeah,” he says. “And when we did back then, it was always just sort of a… I don’t know… a release, I guess?”

“Wow… Okay.” I’m lost for words.

“Growing up, we used to take bets on which family was more fucked. Mine or her controlling family, with their archaic ideas on marriage and deep-set paranoia about anyone they deemed an ‘outsider’.”

As he polishes off the food, he talks about the few times that Annabelle dated—her family ran multiple background checks, hired private investigators to tail the men, and had their security intimidate the men until they were scared off. “I don’t think she had a boyfriend that lasted longer than a month.”

Wow.

“So, about ten years ago, maybe more, her parents started pressuring us to get married. I was vetted. My family was vetted. Anna and I honestly thought it was a joke at first, so I brushed it off. But the pressure intensified, and eventually my parents joined in too.” He takes a sip of his drink before telling me about the forced holidays, joint vacations, and constant badgering. “I told my parents to fuck off, but I couldn’t stand watching the stress Anna’s parents were putting her under. It killed me. The more she pushed back, the harder they came down on her. And then last year, they gave her an ultimatum: marry me by the time she turned thirty, or she’d lose her trust fund.”

Holy shit. My stomach knots. “Her birthday is July fifteenth, isn’t it? The uncompromising wedding date.”

“Sure is,” he says. “We pushed the wedding out to the very last day in case they’d change their mind.”

Jesus Christ. I can’t even imagine having that much pressure. “So now what? The wedding’s just off? What about her trust fund?”

“Anna and I have been talking for months, trying to figure out a way out of this. We thought we’d eventually find a loophole or get an annulment after a year, something. But the more impossible it started to feel, the more we resigned ourselves to eventually living separate lives as a married-in-name-only couple and we’d each hopefully meet someone who understood the situation.”

God, this is a lot to take in. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

“I couldn’t. If her parents had any idea that we were planning a way out of this wedding, they would’ve stripped her trust fund immediately,” he says, then fans his fingers on my knee. “I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t know if I could trust you.”

Even though it stings, I understand. “No, I get it. I was still a stranger to you, so it makes sense you didn’t trust me.”

He avoids my eyes at my words. Maybe I’m pushing for too much—but I need the truth. My conscience will not rest until I know, without a doubt, that Annabelle is happy.

“And she’s okay with… this…” I point between me and Theo.

A diabolic grin spreads and his hands slide up my thigh. “Elaborate on this.”

“Theo.” I glare, ignoring how my body immediately heats, and remove his hands. “I’m serious.”

“Not only is she okay, she’s thrilled. Who do you think I’ve been talking to about you? When I told her I was going to come over and tell you everything, I think her exact words were ‘Thank God, now you can shut the fuck up about her.’ ” He laughs. “She said it in a loving way, of course. Once she filled me in on her plan to get us out of the wedding, she told me to come over here immediately.”

“She did?”

He nods and glances at his hands. “And she said something about being vulnerable for once.”

“Whoa.” My heart skips a beat. “Do you know what that word means?”

“Nope.”

Everything in me wants to climb in his lap and show him just how much I appreciate him opening up, but I’m also desperate for more details. “So now what? How will she both get her trust fund and cancel the wedding?”

“For now, we have to play it cool,” he says, regret edging his voice. “She’s still working out the details. Her Nonna is a feisty fuck and apparently they’ve come up with a plan. But Anna’s paranoid and didn’t want to share too much over the phone, which I respect. I wouldn’t put anything past her parents.”

My brain tries to process all the information. “What does ‘playing it cool’ mean?”

“It means, to the outside world, we’re still getting married.”

My heart sinks.

“Not for very long.” He grabs my hand and kisses my wrist. “Just a few more weeks while she’s working everything out. But Lexie, you can’t tell anyone. No one. Not your boss, not Justin, not your mom, no one. I am totally trusting you with this, okay? This is not about me, or my life. It’s about Anna’s life and safety.”

He’s right, of course. And I get it. Still, the thought of keeping this from the people who matter most to me—especially my boss, whose company is planning their special day—makes my stomach tighten. “Of course, I won’t say anything,” I say, taking a breath. “So, we keep planning the wedding?”