Page 82 of Broken Vows

God, I need to focus. “Enough about work! What about you? How’s recovery been? Please tell me the pain was worth it because you had a hot nurse by your side?” I grin.

Justin lifts his brow, and I know he can read right through my pink cheeks and shifty eyes. But he lets me off the hook and tells me all about his recovery time and sadly not any eye candy, much to his spouse’s relief.

The rest of the day flows like any other day. I return calls to vendors. I double check with Annabelle and Theo about guests’ allergies for the caterers. I pore over the seating arrangement—again—following the endless instructions from Annabelle and Theo’s parents about who must sit together, and who absolutely cannot.

And somewhere in the middle of it all, I find myself smiling at the dichotomy that is Theo. The possessive, commanding man who will challenge me at every opportunity. And the thoughtful, attentive one—the caregiver who rubs my feet and brings me incredible food and always makes sure I’m taken care of first.

At my desk, I drain the last of my coffee, knowing I should finish my tasks for the day. Instead, I feel the familiar pull to check in on Theo—to make sure he’s still there, still with me. I’m reaching for my phone when a throat clears. I jump, startled, to find Sydney standing by my desk.

Guilt floods me. My shoulders tense, panic flaring that I’ve somehow exposed my secret relationship with Theo. Lying to Justin is one thing; lying to my boss is far riskier. And for some time now, I haven’t been able to shake the sense that Sydney hasn’t been her usual self with me.

“Hey, lady,” she says, sliding into Justin’s vacant chair and nudging it closer. “How are you holding up with everything?”

Her tone eases me slightly, though I still swallow hard, praying my cheeks don’t give me away. Better than you could possibly imagine is not the right answer. “Great,” I say instead. “We’re ahead of schedule. Now that Justin’s back at work, I handed his account back and I’m free to help wherever I’m needed.”

She waves a hand dismissively. “No, I want all your focus on the Barlowe/Astor wedding,” she says, and the guilt resurfaces. “Everyone’s eyes will be on this day. I don’t want you distracted by smaller events. If you’re caught up, you should treat yourself to a few days off.”

Um, what’s happening here? Sydney is many things. Smart. Driven. An empathetic leader. But encouraging time off in the name of work-life balance has never been one of them. I take in the new dark circles under her eyes, the deep lines etched into her forehead.

Something is definitely off.

“I really appreciate all the extra effort you’ve been putting in,” she says. “The overtime, meeting after work to accommodate Theo’s schedule…”

I’m dying here. Don’t look at her in the face.

“Yes, of course.”

Her arms are still folded and her stern look makes me shift in my seat. I’m close to telling her that I have work to do, when she says, “By the way, I haven’t seen any expense reports for all the food and travel tied to the Barlowe/Astor account. I’m finalizing the quarterly financials now, so I’ll need those submitted for reimbursement.”

I hesitate. “Oh, um, there won’t be any. Theo pays for everything.”

She raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Yeah, ah, he says that’s the least he and Annabelle could do. A sort of thank you for going above and beyond.”

She cocks her head, studying me in silence for a long moment. If I’ve ever felt like I was being hauled to the principal’s office, this is it. She thumbs her frames back up her face and nods. “Well, that’s awfully generous of them.” A weak smile appears. “Must be nice to be a billionaire.”

Her comment has alarm bells sounding. If she knows about me and Theo, I wish she’d just say something. The waiting and second-guessing is terrible.

“Is everything okay?”

She straightens at my question, her smile widening, though I can tell it’s fake. “Yes. All good.”

This conversation is starting to feel unbearable, the paranoia creeping in fast and unwelcome. Whether Sydney knows the truth or not, I can’t stand the uncertainty anymore. “I know you said you want me focused exclusively on the Barlowe/Astor account,” I say evenly, “but is there any issue that I should be aware of?”

“Oh no, not at all! Just, keep up all the great work. The Barlowe wedding is exactly what we need. I’m so proud of you for managing it so well.”

The sincerity in her voice reassures me that maybe she doesn’t know about us. Still, I can’t ignore the tension in her posture, the sense she’s holding something back. She’s my boss, after all, and it doesn’t feel like my place to pry.

For the rest of the day, I can’t shake the ickiness. I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m not doing anything wrong. But I’m lying to everyone, and my patience is wearing thin.

Theo makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. When I first saw him after all those years, it was pure, gut-wrenching rage. When I started to realize he might not have been the reason I was expelled from college, it turned into an ache—to go back, to reclaim the years I spent hating him. And now… my heart actually hurts when he isn’t with me.

I need to stop fretting over the what ifs and just enjoy each moment as it comes. Things like this have a way of working themselves out.

I hope.

After I get home, I catch myself peeking out the window, hoping for some glimpse of him, but all I see is a drawn curtain. I’ve developed a severe case of co-dependency of late. Even knowing Theo has a seven p.m. work call he planned to take in his studio, I hate being apart.