The Broken Vows: Zane and Celeste’s Story (The Windsors)

Concern washes over me as I stare at Celeste from my desk, taking in her red eyes and the way she keeps staring at the photo of Lily and her, that she keeps on her desk. She’s been listless for a few days now, all the fight in her gone.

It’s odd to watch my wife be so heartbroken over her friendship with my sister, when she’s never once looked at me that way. Part of me wants to console her, but another part of me is glad she’s finally realizing just how much damage she’s done. Does she realize I’m the one who had to pick up the pieces when she left?

I sigh as I tear my gaze away and check my email instead, needing something else to focus on. Having Celeste back in our lives is doing more harm than good, and I don’t understand what Grandma was thinking. In my quest to get our engagement broken, I sat her down and told her everything — everything about Lily, about the way Celeste planted fake evidence, and the way we fell apart. It didn’t have the effect I thought it’d have. If anything, it only seemed to solidify her decision to push us together, and I don’t quite understand why she thinks that would solve anything at all.

I click on an incoming email absentmindedly and raise a brow when I realize that our new restaurant is ready for inspection. My gaze drifts back to my wife, and I hesitate for a beat. “Would you like to have dinner with me?” I ask, my voice tinged with uncertainty.

Her gaze snaps up, and for a few moments, something flickers in her eyes. “Amélie, our new French restaurant in The Lacara is done. Normally, I test out everything before giving the okay to open it to the public.”

“Oh,” she murmurs, her shoulders sagging. “Sure, I’ll join you.” Celeste sounds apathetic, and it frustrates me endlessly. I thought I’d grown weary of constantly arguing with her, but I’d rather have that than this.

“Let’s head out now,” I tell her, glancing at my watch. “It’s nearly time for dinner anyway.”

She nods demurely and reaches for her handbag. Somehow, I’d expected more of a fight, or perhaps an outright rejection. Instead, she simply rises from her seat, looking fucking ethereal in that blue dress.

My eyes roam over her as we step into my private elevator, my gaze settling on her gold nail polish. It’s one she’s wearing often these days — she wore it on our wedding day too. “What is it called?” I ask as I reach for her hand, holding it in mine tenderly. I’m not even sure why I can’t resist touching her today. Perhaps it’s because the distance between us seems greater than ever, or perhaps it’s because I’m hoping to take away some of her lethargy. I shouldn’t want to, but I can’t bear to see her in so much pain.

Celeste looks up at me, mixed emotions flickering through her eyes. Heartbreak. Hope. Longing. “Shattered Souls,” she whispers, just as the elevator reaches the bottom floor.

My heart wrenches, and I entwine our fingers as I lead her to my car. Celeste doesn’t say a word on the way to the restaurant, and worry begins to gnaw at me. From the moment she walked back into my life, she’s taken great pleasure in annoying me in any way she can. I’m not sure what to do with this quiet version of her.

“We’re here,” I tell her as I park up, and she glances at me dazedly before getting out of the car. She hasn’t been herself since I found her crying over Sierra, and more and more, she seems to be lost in thought — lost in the past.

“Mr. and Mrs. Windsor,” the chef says as we enter, a wide smile on his face. Mrs. Windsor. I’ll never tire of hearing it. I place my hand on Celeste’s lower back as he guides us to our table and explains what we’re having tonight, and I watch her intently as her professional mask clicks back into place.

“Comfortable chairs,” Celeste murmurs, her eyes roaming over the venue dispassionately. “The decor is just as I imagined it.”

I nod and follow her gaze, a hint of pride settling in my chest. We’ve always come up with better concepts together than we could individually, but seeing them come to fruition is bittersweet. If things hadn’t gone wrong, could we have had this all along?

I raise my wine glass, and she hesitates a beat before doing the same. “To a successful collaboration, and many more to come,” I say, the words feeling empty. We used to toast to happiness, big dreams, and the love between us.

Celeste’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I’m certain I see the same longing I’m feeling in her gaze. Does she miss us the way I do?

“Do you regret it?” I ask without thinking.

Her eyes flash with such a deep sense of loss that it steals my breath away. She studies me as she ponders my question, and I smile wryly.

“This is what I always wanted with you, you know? Dinner in a nice restaurant, and being able to call you mine in public. Here we are, you and me, and we both look like we’d rather be anywhere but here.”

“Do you?” she asks, her voice sharp. “Do you regret doing what you did, Zane? Somehow I doubt it, or you wouldn’t have attacked Harrison Developments the way you did.”

I take her in, noting her beautiful curly hair and those amber eyes that betray her torment. She looks so lost, so hurt… and I can’t look away. “I do,” I admit. “I regret ever falling for you and thinking my love for you would be enough, that we could get through anything together. I regret believing in us the way I did and risking it all for you.”

I run a hand through my hair and draw a shaky breath. “You know what I regret the most? I regret asking you to dance with me at that gala. I should’ve let you go, should’ve moved on from my childish crush on you, and heeded my grandmother’s warnings. Hell, if I could go back in time, I would’ve left you alone on prom night and wouldn’t have consoled you. I wish I never kissed you, never brought you to a place I’d only ever wanted to share with my wife. All of my regrets have one thing in common, Celeste. You.”

She looks away and wraps her arms around herself, her posture vulnerable. “The feeling is entirely mutual, Zane.” Her voice is soft, defeated, and for once, there’s no malice in her tone. The way she looks at me cuts through all my defenses, and fuck, it makes me want to take back every single word I just uttered.