Page 32 of Reckless Vow

He snorts. “I ordered a meal, so we… Never mind.” He pockets his phone and crosses the floor.

Don’t leave. Don’t leave.

“Did you want to celebrate our nuptials?” I try to sound cheerful, but I don’t think this night is salvageable anymore.

Also, I’m too drunk to analyze what the fuck is going on in his head. Or be mature enough to simply ask.

He stops on the threshold and turns slowly. “Ourfakewedding, you mean?” The way he stresses the word squeezes at my stomach. “I thought we could talk about how this marriage would work, so we can respect each other’s boundaries. And perhaps celebrate that you duped your granny.”

Oh, so it wasn’t a romantic gesture, just plain business. He could have fooled me.

“Sorry, I didn’t know we had plans,” I snap. “You forgot to mention it.”

He rakes his hand through his hair. It remains sticking out in every direction, and for some reason I love it. It makes him a bit less perfect, which is a relief.

Like his perfect was too different from my chaotic, but now we’re somehow closer. Just like when he tapped his finger in the car.

“We can still eat.” I step to him and place my hand on his chest.

He sucks in a breath, and I take it as a win. And it stupidly encourages me, and my drunken mind, filled with my friends’ stupid advice, acts before I can stop myself. “Or maybe we should consummate…”

Raw hunger flickers through his eyes. We stare at each other for the longest moment, all our baggage filling up every molecule of air between us.

And in that moment, I wish I could take my suggestion back. Not because I don’t want to sleep with him. I do. Maybe even more than I wanted to nine years ago.

But in his eyes I see a mixture of things, warring with a sentiment I really wish wasn’t there. Baldo wants me as much as I want him, as evidenced by his ragged breath, his hand gripping my hip and, if I’m not mistaken, a bulge in his pants.

But there is so much hurt between us and so much resentment. If we went through with it, we would only make things worse.

Without talking or moving, at a standstill in the middle of the house that haunts us with our story, we pant as our eyes lock in a battle between want and should.

I’m paralyzed by the avalanche of memories and all the questions I want to ask. But also by my body’s all-consuming desire for this man.

Such an unknown sensation for me. I’ve never trembled for a man like this.

Baldo reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. Unlike that first night in my room, he removes it quickly like I burned him.

Heat spreads up my neck and cheeks, and my heart hammers as I try to figure out how we can gracefully remove ourselves from this stalemate. How not to feel rejected.

Trapped between our need for each other and the reality that the time for that passed long ago.

And then Baldo resolves the situation for us. “You’re drunk. Go to bed.”

For some reason, it feels like he’s broken my heart all over again.

He turns and his footsteps echo long after he leaves me there, standing in the air infused with my favorite flowers.

Chapter11

Baldo

Fucking woman.

I don’t know why I cared where she went last night. And what was I thinking, setting up a celebratory meal? What is there to celebrate? My insanity apparently.

I step into the shower.

I plan my life carefully so I’m always in control. That was the only thing that helped me heal after Brook left me behind.

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