Page 9 of Reckless Vow

And now I’m lying to myself.

For fuck’s sake. I go back to my wine glass and refill it. Only now I end up standing beside him and that isn’t helping me find composure. How and when did he even move to this corner?

Hoping to seem casual, I round the large counter—thank God for this humongous kitchen—and position myself at the opposite corner, hiding my face in the large glass.

Not that I’m looking at him. It’s just that he’s right across from me and all.

God, that suit fits him well. It gives him an air of dominance, like he’s in charge here.

Has he always been like this? Owning the room with his mere presence?

We were the youngest of the bunch, so I guess we kind of remained in the shadows.

The confidence he oozes is a turn-on. It pleases me to learn this new tidbit about him.

What? I don’t care. I don’t care.

Still, I can’tnotobserve him.

My sisters update Baldo on Dad’s health. Something passes through his face, messing up his composure. It’s a fleeting tick of the jaw that is gone immediately.

What was that about? Was it only my imagination, which usually serves up gruesome, bloody images?

I look at the floor and run an outline of a dead body with my eyes. If someone—none of the people here, I’m not that crazy—a fictional character hit his head on the corner of the counter, how would they fold as they fell?

“It’s iron clad.”

I jump at Dominic’s voice and file the image for… well, I file it away.

He joins us, with Hunter and Finn on his heels. He drops the will on the middle of the counter.

The bang reminds me that Baldo’s presence is not my only problem at the moment. Fucking roller coaster of a day.

I need to get married.

And why is it so hot in here?

I’m only half-listening to everyone around me. Introductions are made, explanations are given. My sisters whine about their unplanned, fast weddings.

As if that was the issue.

I’m the one who doesn’t have a partner.

I’m the one who has to go through this farce while Baldo is watching.

Out of everyone witnessing my humiliation, he’s the one person I can’t do this in front of. I can’t have him finding out how alone I am. How lonely I am. How desperate I am.

How I’ll have to look for a fake husband.

I groan, and when a hand comes to my back I almost yelp.

At some point during this cheerful conversation, Mom came back down. And while Bianca isn’t my birth mother, her instincts are dead on because she caresses my back.

And just like when I was a little girl, the soothing circles provide me with strength. Or at least a measure of comfort.

It’s not lost on me that she’s chosen to stand by me while I’m sure she wants every waking minute with her son. How pathetic must I be in her eyes, if she picked me at this moment?

Okay, Brook, grow up. He is here and you can’t make him leave, so you’d better focus on what matters.

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