Page 87 of Of Vows and Betrayal

“I most likely don’t want it.”

You’re wrong, I think, but I know how stubborn she can be and just keep driving. I park, and she looks across the street.

“Danish? Yes, that I do want.”

“No, not the Danish. Come on.”

I get out of the car and go to her side, waiting for her to get out, even if my hand itches to open the door for her. She used to love these small gestures, her cheeks turning pink—fuck, I miss this. I miss her shy looks, her sweet smiles. I miss the pink color that used to dust the apples of her cheeks only to darken when I brushed my lips to them.

I miss Ophelia desperately, but I deserve the harpy that replaced her. The woman who glares at me as soon as I try to do anything remotely nice for her, anything she perceives as attempted manipulation.

“Okay, let’s get this over with,” she mutters, getting out of the car.

“That’s the spirit.” We walk side by side down the street, my heart accelerating with each step. By the time we reach our destination, I don’t think I’m breathing.

“Here,” I say breathlessly as we turn toward Midsummer Petals. The sign is no longer flaky and half-faded but now bright green, replacing the old one.

“What is this?” she asks, and the slight tremble in her voice gives me a hint of hope.

“Come.” I’m too apprehensive to make big sentences, too overwhelmed, and the air seems stuck in my lungs, allowing me nothing more than monosyllabic responses.

I grab the keys in my pocket, the one with a bee key ring on it stating “Bee Happy,” a little reminder of her apron. I hope to make her smile when I extend the keys to her.

“This isn’t finalized. I wasn’t planning to give it to youtoday. The flowers won’t be delivered until the middle of next week, but—” I open the door and gesture for her to go in.

She walks slowly as if she’s expecting something to jump out at her. She steps inside and keeps her back to me as she takes in the interior. When I bought the place, I always intended to give it back to her. I never wanted her to lose her legacy. When everything fell apart, I decided to make it my project. Using all the budget and contacts at my disposal, I managed, in just a couple of weeks, to get the flower shop identical to its former glory. I used every photo I could find and the help of the neighbors, who had nothing but love for Ophelia. It’s perfect, right down to the light fixtures I had custom-made just for her.

She takes her time, taking everything in before turning around slowly. My heart sinks because I know before she opens her mouth that this plan failed too. I see it in the coolness of her eyes, the set of her jaw, and the way her lips tip down slightly with a hint of derision.

For the first time, she truly looks like one of the icy Mafia princesses I’m accustomed to, and I’m the one who created her.

“What is this?”

The question takes me aback. “Your flower shop.”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“No?”

“No.”

I take a deep breath, trying my best to stop from snapping. I say I can take it, but having every attempt thrown back in my face is hard to bear.

“Tell me something, Javier. Why are you doing this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you doing all of this? Throwing money at the situation. Are you trying to ease your guilt?”

“I’m trying to fix things. I’m trying to make amends.”

“But for you or for me?” She crosses her arms on her chest. “What do you think is going to happen? That I’ll run the flower shop while you run your empire? I’ll come home to the penthouse—to the joke of a marriage we share, and then what? I’ll come to my senses, and we’ll live happily ever after?”

I feel my face heat because, yes, as foolish as it sounds now coming from her mouth, it is exactly what I thought.

“You said it was what you wanted!” I snap. “I’m trying so hard to fix things and every attempt you throw back in my face. I didn’t mean to love you, Ophelia, but I do, and I’m fully invested. No matter how much you want to deny it, you love me too.”

“No, I loved the version of the man I thought you were. The man here?” She gestures to me up and down. “I don’t know him, and I don’t want to.”

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