Hopeless Vows (15 page)

He nods several times, seemingly digesting my answer. “How do you think your parents’ passing has shaped you as an adult?”

My hand runs through my hair. “It changed me a lot. I think the most profound way is that I don’t take people for granted. I make sure they know exactly how I feel about them. It’s actually one of my biggest regrets with regard to my parents’ death.”

“What do you mean?”

This is always the hard part to admit. Other than making sure they survived, it’s the one thing I wish I could change. “The day they . . .” I pause and swallow the lump in my throat. “The day they were killed, I had gotten into a big fight with them. God, I was such a spoiled brat.” A humorless laugh escapes me. “Do you know I don’t even remember why I was mad at them? But at the time, it seemed so important. It’s funny how life puts things in perspective for you. Anyway, I had my uncle come pick me up so I could get out of the house. But before I left, I told my mom I hated her and she was ruining my life.” My voice cracks and my nose burns as I try to hold back my emotions. What I wouldn’t give to rewind time and take those words back.

“How did you cope with your guilt?”

“I was an ungrateful little shit, and the last words my mom and dad ever heard come out of my mouth was how much I hated them.” A stabbing pain hits me in the chest. Even after all these years, it still hurts. The guilt and remorse sits on me like a goddamn elephant, suffocating me, making it hard to breathe. “I rebelled, did things to try to block it out. Drank, got into fights, ditched school, but none of it worked.” I take a slow, measured breath in through my nose, then blow it out to calm myself.

He looks down at his file again. “I see here you said earlier the people responsible were caught and convicted, is that right?” I nod in response, my emotions too raw to speak right now. “Did that help with the healing process? Did you feel a sense of closure?”

Taking in one more lungful of air, I respond, “At the time, no. I was young and the only thing that would make it better would be to have my family back. As an adult, yes, it helps. Justice has been served and those animals are paying for their crime.”

“I want to bring this back around to your relationship with Jillian. You say you make sure to express how you feel. How are you feeling about her?”

“I really like her. She’s easy to be around, a little funny, smart, and hot as hell. Do I love her? No, not yet, but I see myself falling for her in the near future.”

“That’s good. As long as you feel that connection there, then you’re on the right path. As far as a physical connection goes, have you two consummated your marriage yet?”

I scowl at him—hell, I might have even growled too. “I don’t know why that’s any of your business.”

He puts his hands up. “I don’t need the details. A simple yes or no will suffice. It’s important I know what level you’ve taken things to. If you’re building a more physical bond versus an emotional one.”

My glare only intensifies. Yeah, right, and I’m sure his need to know has nothing to do with the cameras behind us. “No, we haven’t.”

“Does that upset you? Are you frustrated with the pace?”

“No. This isn’t just some random hookup for me. I want us to do this right and not rush into things. Plus, I know she’s not ready.”

“What makes you think that?”

“It’s just a feeling I get. She’s not completely comfortable with me. I can tell she still has some walls up, so I need to break those down before we can take it there. I want her complete trust before we have sex.” He doesn’t need to know we attacked each other two nights ago before her work event and the sexual tension is so thick I walk around with blue balls twenty-four/seven.

“Okay, perfect then.” He closes his notepad and looks back up at me. “I have some homework for you. I want you to do something with her she’s never done before. Take her out of her comfort zone, and see how the two of you deal with that, okay?”

“Okay.” I stand and extend my hand out to him, shaking it before I leave.

I’m a little worn out from the session. I hadn’t expected to talk about my parents again, and it’s dug up old feelings. I’ve dealt with their death and come to terms with it. It doesn’t make it any easier. Despite my fucked up mood, I’m headed toward the one thing I know will make me smile.

My wife.

Jillian

MONDAY MORNINGS ARE
the worst, and I’m not even sure why. It’s not like I have to wake up any earlier today than I do any other work day. Maybe it’s because the routine gets interrupted by the weekend, throwing all motivation to go to work out the window. With coffee mug in hand, I fumble with the doorknob to my office and drag myself inside. Flipping the light on, I stop in my tracks by what I see.

A gorgeous red bouquet waits for me. I walk around to the front of my desk and pick up the card that’s attached, knowing who they’re from before I even read it.

Jillian,

Thank you for a great weekend. These amaryllises are supposed to represent beauty. They pale in comparison to you, but I wanted you to remember how stunning you are each time you look at them.

XO,

Austin

Next to the vase is a square box. I untie the ribbon around it and remove the lid to find a small card lying on top, handwritten by Austin.

One month down. Here’s to a thousand more.

Austin

I study the strokes of each word. The lines are heavy and straight, showing his firmness and directness in what he says. He seems so sure about everything, even us. Sadness creeps up, knowing he would be perfect for me. No, we’d be perfect for each other.

Setting the card to the side, I peel back the paper covering the contents of the box to reveal an assortment of chocolates. He’s so thoughtful, which is something I’ve always longed for. Growing up, my parents never thought about me. All they were concerned with was where their next hit was coming from. It became their sole motivation for living, leaving me to fend for myself. I missed a lot of school, a lot of meals, and spent most of my time alone. Even as an adult, I never got that sense of emotional stability and security from the men I dated. I’ve never been someone’s priority. Austin makes me feel important and second best to nothing. It’s foreign to me. On the one hand, I love it. On the other hand, I know I can’t get used to it.

I pop a piece of chocolate in my mouth and savor the taste. It’s rich and creamy on my tongue, and if I’m not careful, I’ll eat the whole box in one sitting. Its yummy goodness brings me a sense of joy, even if only for a moment, while his notes run through my head.

It’s been one month already? Damn, we’re halfway through this. The thought should bring me relief, but instead puts a weight on my chest. Air gets pulled in through my nose as I inhale deeply, trying to stem the panic that lies beneath the surface. I’ll have to say goodbye to him in four weeks, and I don’t know how.

Desperate to put the thought out of my mind, I pick up my phone and shoot Austin a text.

Me: Should I expect flowers to be on my desk every Monday?

As usual, his response comes quickly.

Austin: Would that make you happy?

Me: Maybe . . .

Austin: Then maybe . . . I’ll keep doing it.

A smile spreads across my face despite my efforts to stay stoic, but I eventually allow the emotion to engulf me. He can’t see me through the phone, so I’m safe. Safe to display how his words make me feel without leading him on any more than I have to. My phone beeps again, regaining my focus.

Austin: Any chance you can sneak out of work early?

I glance down at my calendar. Call me old fashioned, but I prefer to have everything written out versus on my phone or computer. When things crash, I still have my trusty paper calendar. There’s really not much for me to do with Mrs. Van der Boor in Paris getting ready for Fashion Week. I resist the urge to pout for not being invited to go. That’s okay, I tell myself. I just need to pay my dues a little longer.

I should make up some excuse and tell him no. That would be the smart thing to do, but I haven’t been making smart decisions since I signed the contract to do this experiment. Ultimately, curiosity wins out.

Me: I might be able to. Why? What’s up?

Austin: It’s a surprise. Think you can be home by 3?

Me: Yeah.

Austin: See you then gorgeous.

Stupid butterflies. There’s a swarm taking flight in my stomach. Be it from the anticipation of what we might be doing, or his nickname for me, they’re a fluttering mass in my center. I want to pluck the wings off of each and every one of them. I don’t want to feel giddy at spending the afternoon with him. I don’t want to be excited he’s planned something for us. I don’t want to look at the clock a million times, anxious to leave. But I am, and that’s a problem.

I did everything to try to pass the time. I even tried texting Janey, but they all went unanswered. She’s probably still mad about this weekend. I know she’s seen I’ve messaged her since her phone is always attached to her, so I’m sure she’s ignoring me. The thought makes me shake my head. It’s so petty, but that’s just how she is sometimes. Some probably wonder why I’m friends with her, but we all have our flaws. She’s always been there for me, so I’m willing to take the bad with the good for the sake of our friendship. She’s all I have, and after this experiment is over, I know I’ll need her more than ever to help me pick up the pieces.

With nothing left to do, I pack up and leave work earlier than intended. At two o’clock, I’m walking into the elevator of our apartment anxious to see what Austin has up his sleeve. After I enter through the front door, I’m startled by a female voice. My movements come to a crashing halt when I recognize the voice.

Chloe.

The blood in my veins turns to ice. What the hell is she doing here? Not seeing them in the living room or kitchen, I round the corner and find both of them standing in the bedroom.

Our
bedroom.

Her slimy hand is resting on Austin’s arm as they laugh about something. They’re close—a little too close—to each other. The way she looks up at him adoringly has me tensing. Did Austin lie to me? Were they more serious than he led on? Because with the way she bats her eyelashes in a sickening way and has her gaze locked on him longingly, it appears to be more there.

“I miss you,” she coos as she trails a hand down his chest. “Ever since you got married, I hardly see you.”

Austin opens his mouth to reply and I stop breathing, both afraid and anxious to hear what he’ll say. At that moment, he turns his head in my direction, finally noticing me standing there watching their private exchange. His face shows surprise, but only for half a second before it’s covered by a smile. He steps away from her, and that bothers me because he wasn’t making any attempt to distance himself until he saw me.

“Hey, gorgeous, I wasn’t expecting you home so early.” He approaches me, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me in. It’s with great effort that I don’t push him away. To keep from making a scene in front of Chloe and the cameras, I let him welcome me home in an embrace and a kiss despite wanting nothing more than to kick him in the balls.