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

My entire body is tingling as I sit down next to Clifton, my heart still racing from the way Zane grabbed my wrist and pulled me into an empty utility closet with him. There was something so exhilarating about the way we relived our past in those few stolen moments. The way he still wants me is surreal, and nothing will ever come close to that moment when he pushes into me. I’m never quite sure I can take all of him, and he makes me take it anyway. The way he just possesses me drives me crazy, makes me desperate for more.

“Everything okay?” Clifton asks, his gaze searching my face. Whatever he finds makes his expression fall, and I look down, unable to face him when my lace underwear is drenched. Just like he did years ago, Zane pushed his cum back into me and told me to think of him as I sit back down next to Clifton — like I could’ve thought of anything but him even if he hadn’t done that.

“Y-Yeah,” I murmur, flustered. I squeeze my legs together, unable to keep my heart from racing. I’m developing an addiction to these glimpses of the past, and I can’t help but want more of this pure happiness. There’s no hatred in Zane’s touch anymore, and each time we have sex, it’s like he wants me to remember how good we used to be together. I didn’t think we’d ever be able to move past the blame, but I’m beginning to see that he truly meant it when he told me he’s just as tired of being unhappy as I am.

Zane grins at me as he walks onto the stage for his presentation, and I lean back in my seat, oddly proud of my husband. He puts so much effort into every single thing he does, and I know how much time it took him to prepare for this conference. I’ve spent hours helping him create the slides, and all the while, it amazed me how much he cares.

Zane never gatekeeps information, and it’s one of the things I appreciate most about him. It’s rare for someone as successful as him to get onto a stage and freely share what he’s learned, knowing it’ll only aid his competition. It makes it even harder to believe he could’ve done what he did. It seems out of character, and with each month of marriage that passes, I grow more scared that he truly didn’t lie when he denied Lily’s allegations. I’m not sure how to handle the implications of that, and the mere thought of it terrifies me. If Zane didn’t lie, then Lily did, and she couldn’t possibly have done that to me. She wouldn’t have. The pain in her expression was real, and it makes this entire situation all the more confusing.

“You can barely take your eyes off him,” Clifton says, his voice soft. I glance at him, something bittersweet lodging in my chest. In the last five years, Clifton has been such a good friend to me, and it hurts to see him look at me that way, like I’ve betrayed him.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, unsure what I’m even apologizing for. Our engagement was never real, after all. Despite that, we both knew he wanted it to be.

He sighs and reaches for me, his touch gentle as he pushes my hair out of my face. It’s something he’s done countless times throughout the years, often when he inevitably found me crying after a few drinks. “Don’t be,” he murmurs, his eyes on mine. “I knew, deep down. I think you did too. One way or another, you were always going to end up back in his arms. You’re as in love with him as you used to be.”

My eyes widen, and I shake my head. “No, it isn’t like that between us,” I tell him. I’m not sure what it is, but it isn’t love.

“Isn’t it?” he asks, his gaze roaming over my face. “Then why is it that each time I see you two together, your lipstick is smeared? When he’s in the room, it’s like no one else exists, Celeste. I wonder if that’s what I wanted — maybe I just wanted someone to look at me the way you look at Zane Windsor. He nearly bankrupted you, yet here you are, giving him everything I’ve always wanted. That’s what hurts the most, you know? He doesn’t deserve it.”

I lower my gaze, unable to face Cliff, unable to refute his words. “He makes me feel alive again,” I whisper, scared to even admit it. “Is that really so bad?”

When Lily died, I lost part of myself too, until Zane walked back into my life. Slowly but surely, I’m rediscovering what it’s like to be happy, to experience real joy. I know I should feel guilty, that I should keep in mind who he is and what he’s done, but the truth of the matter is that no one else has ever made me feel this way.

The way I feel right now reminds me of Lily, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s a kind of karma. Is life showing me her torment? I feel like I’m walking on the edge of a knife, savoring each moment of happiness, yet knowing it can’t last. Each touch we share is followed by intense guilt, but I can’t stop either. Maybe she was right, and I have begun to forgive Zane. I think back to the way she cried as she told me she couldn’t be around to watch me marry him, and in the end, that’s exactly what I did. Even worse is that I’m tired of feeling guilty about it.

Lily once wrote that she’d hoped Zane would understand what it’s like to lose everything he holds dear in life, to look around and find the broken pieces of his heart in each place that had become meaningful simply because of the memories made there. I’d never expected the reverse to be true too. I’m recovering the shards of my broken heart in every memory we relive, every emotion he makes me feel when I thought I’d lost my ability to feel anything at all.

I glance back at Zane to find his attention on Cliff and me, his jaw set and pure fury radiating off him. It hits me then — he’s jealous. I’d wondered if he’d been thinking about Clifton when he asked me who my lingerie was for in the morning, right before reminding me I’m his. When he pulled me into the utility closet, his touch was more fervent than usual too, almost like he felt insecure. The thought brings a smile to my face, and it lights a spark of hope deep inside my heart.

Zane grips his microphone tightly and forces a smile for the audience as he wraps up his presentation, his eyes never leaving mine. “Of course, none of this information would’ve been made available to you if not for the help of my wife, Celeste Windsor,” he says, his polite tone doing nothing to hide the underlying possessiveness. Cliff tenses beside me, but I merely smile back at my husband, the butterflies in my stomach going wild.

I watch as he exits the stage, barely even noticing the women who flock to him with supposed questions. His entire attention is on me, and I revel in it as I rise to my feet and take a step toward him. There’s something so empowering about being Zane Windsor’s wife, and I can’t help but smile at him. It throws him off, takes the edge off his anger.

He pauses in front of me, his gaze cutting to Clifton for a moment, until I cup his face and rise to my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “You did so well,” I whisper, my lips lingering. “I’m so proud of you.”

Zane’s hand threads through my hair, and he holds me in place, his eyes finding mine. There’s something so vulnerable in his gaze, and it makes my heart skip a beat. He sighs and tightens his grip on my hair, pulling me closer. He hesitates a beat, and then he kisses me in the middle of this packed conference room, not giving a damn about the whispers. I smile against his lips and kiss him back with all I’ve got, my arms wrapping around his neck, the tips of my fingers trailing over his nape the way he likes.

We’re both panting when his forehead drops to mine, and he dips in for another kiss, a chaste one this time, before he takes a step back, his gaze searching. It’s hard to ignore that spark of hope in his eyes as he raises a brow in question, and it’s harder still to ignore the way my heart skips a beat in response.

“I’m just tired of being unhappy,” I whisper as a way to explain my actions just now.

The edges of his lips turn up into a bittersweet smile, and he leans in, his mouth hovering over mine. “Then let’s stop, Celestial. Let’s stop being unhappy.”

I sigh when he kisses me, softly, taking his time, neither of us caring who sees. It’s moments like these that make life worth living — and that’s what I want to do, more than anything. I just want to live.