Page 76 of Broken Vows

“You didn’t eat Fifi, did you?” Theo asks, staring at me in horror.

It takes me a second to realize he means the cupcake.

“No,” I say, fighting another laugh. “I would not.”

Theo grabs the Fifi cupcake with both hands like it’s a sacred object and runs back outside.

The second he’s gone, the air between Carmen and me shifts. I step closer, crowding her gently against the counter. My hand finds her hip. She doesn’t move away.

Good.

This is good.

This is what I came for.

But before I can say anything, she looks up at me and bites her lip.

“Do you want to come over tonight?” she asks.

I picture her again. The robe. The black lace. The way she looked at me like she wanted every part of me and then went scared so fast I still don’t know what the hell happened.

My throat goes dry. My heart does that stupid clamping thing, like it’s trying to crawl out of my ribcage and hand itself over to her.

I came here for exactly this.

But now that she’s offering, I feel…weird.

“Yeah,” I say, my voice rougher than I mean for it to be. I clear my throat. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

She bites her lip again, and I feel it low in my stomach.

The rest of the afternoon is pure torture. With my arm still fucked, most of what I want to do is off the table. I spend an hour in the garage trying to strip an old carburetor one-handed, but I drop a socket and end up cursing at the floor.

Outside, the steady pound of a basketball echoes through the yard. Theo’s been at it for hours—dribbling, shooting, chasing rebounds, cheering for himself every time he sinks one.

I should go out there and play with him. Might distract me.

I don’t.

Because apparently I’ve got bigger problems now.

What if I’m crap?

The thought slams into me out of nowhere. I haven’t been with anyone in months. Not since Theo moved in. Even before that, it was meaningless—quick, dirty, no strings. Women who knew exactly what they were getting from me and didn’t expect more.

Carmen isn’t like that.

She notices everything. My bad arm. My moods. When I’m hurting.

The thoughts start spiraling.

What if I’m too rough with her? What if I can’t make her feel good? What if that’s why she sent me away last time—because I couldn’t even get her off properly?

But it seemed like she liked it.

God, she fucks with my head. I drag a hand through my hair and hiss when my shoulder pulls.

By the time I finally send Theo to bed, I’m sweating like an idiot. I have to shower again just to calm the fuck down.