Page 13 of Stolen Vows

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to curb the grin that threatens to expose all my undoubtedly inappropriate thoughts about this virtual stranger.

“Yeah. You know, when you’re having a bad day and you think,gosh, an iced caramel latte might change everything.Turn the day around. Which mightactuallychange everything.”

He stares at me, completely deadpan. “I’ve never had an iced caramel latte.”

This time, I don’t bother hiding my smile. A low chuckle rises in my chest, warming something inside me, blanketing all the many, many cracks between my ribs and around my heart.

“You’re funny, Graham Carter.”

His gaze lingers on mine for a beat too long, unreadable. Then, just as I start to wonder if I imagined the moment, he exhales and shakes his head.

“I’m really not. You’re probably just grieving.”

The barista’s voice cuts through the space between us. “Iced caramel latte. Americano.”

I take a step toward the coffees, but Graham’s gruff “I got it” stops me in my tracks. He twists toward the counter, reaching for the drinks, and the material of his forest green henley stretches taut over his back and shoulders.

Jesus. The man’s biceps are massive. Like, truly unfair levels of big.

I bet he could toss me over his shoulder if he wanted to.

The thought flares out of nowhere, hot and ridiculous, and I shove it down before it can go any further.

He turns back, extending my latte to me. I reach for it, and our fingers brush, just enough to send a sharp jolt up my arm.

His grip lingers for a half second longer, his gaze flicking down to my hand.

“Married?”

I arch a brow over the rim of my cup as I take a slow sip. “Not married.”

Yet,a snarky voice in my mind adds. It sounds a lot like my sister. She wouldn’t be wrong, but she wouldn’t be right either. It’s a gray area, a limbo of sorts.

Graham’s fingers tighten almost imperceptibly around his cup, his head tilting just slightly. Not a huge reaction, but enough. I catch the faint crease between his brows before he smooths it out.

“You seem surprised by that,” I murmur, taking another sip.

The caramel here is rich, the flavor deeper, almost buttery—freshly made instead of pumped from a bottle. A small luxury that somehow makes the moment feel more real.

“I thought you would be by now.” It’s not a dig. Just a contemplative hum, a small nod, like he’s acknowledging something that I don’t understand.

Technically, I’m still betrothed to Giovanni Bandini. But we have an agreement of sorts. As long as I’m in school, we won’t get married. So I’ve been enrolled in college for six years now. Three major changes, and now a double major to tack on another three. Just call me a career student.

Not because I love school. Idon’t.

I just love the illusion of freedom. The fragile, temporary distance from my family’s expectations. From a future I never chose.

But that explanation is too long and too humiliating. So I just shake my head and take another sip instead.

I shift my weight, wrapping both hands around my drink. “What about you? Married? Kids? Did you go on to win Nationals?”

I already know the answer to that, but I can’t exactlysaythat.

His brows lift slightly, a flicker of something passing through his expression. “Yeah, we did. It was my senior year, so then I graduated and started my own business.”

I tilt my head, curiosity creeping in. “Oh, wow, that’s amazing. What do you do?”

“Cybersecurity.”

---