Page 21 of Forbidden Vows

“Blaze. What are you doing?” She reaches out to take it back.

I kiss her hand, then place it back down at her side. “You don’t want to be with him. I know you don’t. You crave familiarity. You’re a creature of habit.”

She stares up at me. “What do you mean?”

“We may have only lived together briefly, but your breakfast never changed. OJ, toast, a slight smear of strawberry jam, and no butter.”

Her eyelids flutter. “You remember my breakfast?”

“You carried the same purse and wore the same pair of shoes every day, while most girls your age had full closets of accessories. And I know money wasn’t the issue because though you’re incredibly thrifty, we’ve got a great Salvation Army in our hood, loaded with donations from the Upper East Side you could have chosen from.”

“That is a good thrift store,” she agrees.

“And your weekend routine was the same. Every time. Study on Friday. Late-night movies, junk food, and giggling in the living room with your girlfriends on Saturday night. Church on Sunday.”

Her face softens. “How do you remember this stuff?”

I shrug. “Dunno. But I do.” When it comes to Cleopatra, I remember everything. “You’re staying with me,” I say again, my tone even firmer this time.

She shakes her head. “No. I won’t go back to him. I promise. I may be weak, but I’m not stupid.”

“Serphina is a photographer. Won’t she be working non-stop in the summer?”

“Yeah, you're right.” She stares up at the window of Jesus multiplying loaves and fish. “But it’ll be good to have some quiet alone time. It’ll give me time to decompress from the school year.”

She doesn’t like sleeping alone. I’d even caught her passed out on the couch with all the lights on. Of course, like any good stepbrother, I tried to get her into my bed to sleep with me. She refused. Weird, I know. “I’ll bet she has a big apartment. Could be spooky.”

“I’ll be fine.”

I wonder if Keith knows all this stuff about her. I wonder if he even cares. If she were my girl, there wouldn’t be a single night she’d be out of my arms. I’d never let her out of my sight. She’d never be scared or lonely or?—

“I’ll be fine. Promise.” Cleopatra interrupts my mental declaration of love with her final argument for staying. “Besides, I have a friend’s wedding I’m going to over the summer.”

“Who?”

“Lydia. We went to college together. Same teaching program.”

“When is it?” I ask, offering, “I’ll bring you back for it. I could be your date.”

She sniffs.

I balk at her sniff. “You’re too good to be seen with me?”

“No,” she laughs. “You’re too hot to be seen with me. People would talk.” She rolls her eyes jokingly. “Especially Seraphina.”

“Why?” My brows waggle involuntarily as I tease, “Has she got a thing for me?”

“No. But the fact you’re even asking reminds me of another reason I’ll not be moving to your Italian mafia lair. You have a rotating bedroom door. I saw it myself the other day at your hotel. I’m sure Italy is no exception. I’d only be in your way.”

“I’m not as much of a slut as you make me out to be,” I argue. “I’ve never even had a girl at my current Batcave.”

“Batcave?” she asks.

What’s wrong with wanting a Batcave? “You mentioned my lair. I’d prefer you to refer to it as my Batcave. Lego Batman is my favorite movie, after all.”

Her brows knit with surprise. “It is?”

“Why is that surprising to you?”

---