Page 134 of Temporary Vows

When I checked my phone, I saw a text from him. One sentence:

I’ll see you when I get back.

I guess that was an upgrade from the usual nothingness. It was the first time he’d ever messaged me.

It didn’t tell me what he was thinking or anything like that, but it was something. No matter how small.

Dorian Vale is a man who doesn’t waste words. Still, it’s difficult to know what the message meant beyond what it said—that he’d see me when he got back.

As for what would happen then… it was anyone’s guess.

Would we be the same?

I didn’t know.

I rest my hand on the table and lean back against my chair, keeping my gaze fixed on the sheets of rain.

Maybe the time apart and the distance will set him back on his usual path tobusiness is business.Hell, he could even be seeing someone else. I don’t know where that would leave me.

I seem to be stuck in this endless loop. One minute, I’m telling myself to be strong and remember the terms of our arrangement. The next, I’m obsessing over how he took me the night of the wedding, wondering if there was any meaning in it.

I’d never forget the way he touched me and claimed my body. No one has ever made me feel like that. I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Dorian might have had a change of heart.

After he’d been gone for a week and I still hadn’t heard from him, I decided that preoccupying my every waking thought with that night was as unhealthy as drinking crude oil. There was no scenario where dreaming up possibilities did me any favors.

When week two hit, and I still hadn’t heard from him, I shut down. I became this version of myself that chose numbness and avoidance over thinking too much into the situation.

So far, nothing has helped.

And the new problem is that I don’t know one way or another what anything means.

I’m stuck.

I can’t be angry with him, nor can I be patient. I can’t be sad that our wedding night might have been a one-time thing, because I don’t know if it was. I can’t even treat the text as a placeholder, because it was exactly what it was—a message.

All I’m left with is waiting.

There’s no point in even calling or messaging him. He wouldn’t respond.

The only thing that could potentially get his attention is if I were pregnant.

And I’m not. I took a test.

So that’s that.

Footsteps pull me from my thoughts. The door is already open. I turn to see Mrs. Bennell, the school’s principal walking in.

I straighten instantly, trying to look composed.

She’s not usually in at this hour and she never ventures down here. Her office is all the way on the other side of the school on the top floor.

“Morning, Mrs. Bennell.” I sound like one of the students, trying to get on her good side.

A bright smile spreads across her face. “Morning Elodie. You have to be one of my most dedicated teachers.” She nods and the blunt edges of her stylish bob swish against her ears. “You’re here, early again.”

I smile, though a tug of guilt pulls on my insides. “I like the quiet.”

“I get it. I was like that too, way back when I was teaching.” She gives me a hearty chuckle and adjusts her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “The janitor told me you were here. I wanted a quick word.”