Page 16 of Before Broken Vows
Is she awake? What is she thinking? Is she planning her next disappearing act?
The questions gnaw at me as I get out and enter through the side door. The house is quiet. Elena left dinner in the warming oven, but I ignore it, heading straight for the study.
I pour two fingers of whiskey and slump into an oversized chair. I loosen my tie as I take a sip.
Some time goes by, and I know I should go to bed. But I don't move. Instead, I sit there, thinking about nothing and everything—until I hear the creak of floorboards behind me. Instincts have me grip the butt of my gun and spin around.
And I see her. She's standing there, silhouetted against the hallway light. Her hair is damp from a shower, and she's wearing clothes Elena must have found for her—loose gray pants and a faded blue T-shirt that's too big. She looks… no, I won't think about how she looks.
"I forgot you were here," I say, lying, as I turn back around—hoping she'll both go away and stay at the same time.
Fuck, I hate that feeling.
Because it means she's still under my skin.
And if she stays here much longer, I won't be able to let her go a second time.
7
STASSI
Save for the men outside patrolling, inside the Kastaris estate is too quiet. Elena and anyone else here left for the night, and since Theo's gone, it's just me.
I probably shouldn't leave my room, but I tried calling them and they aren't answering, so sitting here will drive me crazy.
I pry open the door and move down the hallway, the floor's coolness coming through my socks. Coming out of the hallway, the moonlight shines through a large window, creating white stripes across the marble floors—the same marble I once danced across completely naked on a dare from Theo while we laughed uncontrollably.
As I walk past the area now, it feels like I'm trespassing on a life I abandoned. I feel like maybe I should have just stayed in the guest room.
My hand brushes a table as I walk, and more muscle memory kicks in. I instantly know every turn, every door, every crack in the plaster they never fixed. I pause at the archway leading into the library. The fire isn't lit, but I can still see it as it was fouryears ago: Theo in the armchair, whiskey in hand, telling me how excited he was about a new boat he was going to get and all the places we'd sail to. God, I loved listening to him when he was like that. So animated. So focused. So full of dreams.
I wonder if he ever got the boat?
I shut my eyes, trying to stop the onslaught of memory.
But it comes anyway, and after a few happier flashbacks, the one I dreaded enters my mind—aggressively—and takes over every thought I have, forcing me to relive it.
The bedroom was dark, but I didn't need the light. I knew our room here like I knew him—intimately.
I stood at the edge of the bed, heart beating a million miles a minute, my hands trembling. The duffel at my feet was packed: cash I hadn't touched in years, a new passport I hadn't planned on having, and every ounce of guilt I could carry.
Theo lay asleep. One arm flung over the spot I usually filled. His breath deep and slow. Peaceful. That's what broke me the most—how peaceful he looked. He had no idea I was about to rip his heart out. Hell, I had no idea just how badly I was going to rip mine out, too.
I leaned down, wanting to give him one last kiss, but I was afraid I'd wake him. So I blew him a kiss and whispered, "One day, you'll say it was for the best."
Then I slipped out the door to a waiting car and disappeared to Los Angeles to live among aspiring actresses, never to set foot back in Greece until now. I haven't even visited my mother's grave in Chicago because it was too risky.
There's a light in my life now, but a lot of darkness too. Still, if I had to do it all over, for Theo, I would. Because that's how much that man meant to me, and sometimes, you need to put their needs first—even if it causes you an eternity of grief. You hold onto the fact that you did the right thing. You protected them. You gave them the life they want, even if they don't know it yet.
I shake my head and start walking again. I don't have a destination, just the need to move. Staying still means thinking. And thinking means remembering things I can't change.
I hear a car pull into the driveway, and I don't even need to look to know it's Theo's car. I'm too far from my room, so I slip into the library and watch as he enters.
He looks toward the direction of my room and pauses for a moment. His face—so defined, so masculine. He wears some stubble now on his face, which he didn't before. I like it.
He moves, and I sink back into the darkness of the room, praying he doesn't come in here.
He walks past, and I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding.
