Page 86 of Vow

Andino didn’t think he would like it, but he was going to have to find out.

Not right now, though.

Kev gestured at the bar. “A drink?”

Andino wanted to say no.

Dante answered for him, instead. “Sure, a drink sounds fine.”

They were still playing nice, it seemed. Andino was really getting sick and tired of this bullshit. His time for playing nice was just about over.

FOURTEEN

“Haven, let me in. Come on, baby, please.”

The banging on the door continued. Even as she ignored Andino’s pleas. Even as his fist came down harder on the wood. Even as he begged for her to talk to him for even a minute. No, she ignored him.

Well, she tried.

It was fucking hard.

She pressed her back harder against the door, and stared up at the ceiling. She tried to daze out from his voice so that her heart didn’t have to hear him speaking. So it would stop beating so fucking fast and wish, wish, wishing she would answer him back.

It was so goddamn traitorous.

This heart of hers hurt.

She squeezed her eyes shut, and thought about plugging her ears. Then, this stupid soul of hers that wanted this man so badly would stop twisting and burning and trying to tear its way out of her fucking body just to get to him.

Why?

That’s what she kept asking herself: why.

Why, after all he had done to her, did she still love him? Why couldn’t she just walk away from the door, and turn off all the lights? Why couldn’t she even pretend like she didn’t give a shit about him?

The paper cardstock with its fancy script, and a woman’s name under Andino’s announcing their marriage should have been enough. That should have been her hard fucking limit. Her no more, we’re so fucking done.

They should be done.

She had every reason to be done!

And yet, it was him and his voice in her head. It was her, and her stupid heart and her weak soul breaking.

Fractured, and ruined, and entirely gone.

Gone, now, because she’d given it to him. Oh, sure, she’d tried to take it back. But fuck all of him because he still had it. She didn’t even own herself anymore. Surely not her love. That was all his, and look at what he’d done with it.

Look at how he lied. How he hurt. Look at what he did to her.

“Go away, Andino,” Haven mumbled against the palms of her hands.

She hated that she cried. Hated that her face was streaked with hot tears, and her palms tasted like salt under her lips. She hated that somehow, she had allowed a man to have this kind of control over her.

This was not her.

This was some awful, horrible version of her.

This was his version of her.