Page 84 of Convenient Vows

Lev makes a noise in the back of his throat—part acknowledgment, part approval.

“Anything else?” he asks.

I hesitate for a moment.

“Check the manifest printers. If anyone slipped in early to make a copy or reroute the files, I want timestamps.”

“Copy that.”

I end the call.

The road stretches ahead, long and winding through the Panamanian jungle. The breeze cuts through the open windows, but it doesn’t cool me.

Nothing does.

31

The car hums down the empty highway, tires slicing through the wet road like they’ve got somewhere more important to be than I do. The jazz station plays low on the stereo—something brassy and slow, the kind of sound that makes silence more obvious instead of hiding it.

I don’t mind silence.

I’ve lived in it most of my life.

But tonight, as the adrenaline drains from my veins and the job fades behind me, the quiet feels like a mirror.

And in it—she’s there.

No matter how long it’s been. No matter how many borders I’ve crossed. No matter how much whiskey I’ve drowned her ghost in, she always finds a way to resurface in my thoughts.

Three years should have been enough time to forget the way she looked at me in the morning, her eyes sleepy yet sharp. It should’ve been enough to erase her. But it wasn’t. I know that even eternity will not be enough to help me forget her.

I shift in my seat, roll my shoulder to ease the tightness building behind it. Crack my knuckles one at a time, and change lanes for no damn reason.

I tell myself I’m just driving. That it’s the road, the heat, the sting of betrayal from earlier tonight making me restless.

But I fucking know it’s her.

Is she happy?

That question hits harder than I expect. It creeps in like a whisper under the noise. A small, sharp thing that slides into the space between thought and instinct.

Is she with someone?

Fuck.

The idea makes my jaw lock. My fingers tighten on the steering wheel until the leather creaks under my grip.

Is someone else touching her? Lying beside her? Hearing that low, sleepy voice in the morning?

I stare at the highway stretching ahead, headlights illuminating curves in the road I’ve driven a dozen times but never noticed. I don’t blink. I don’t breathe right.

She’s too stunning to be alone. Too full of heat and fire and beauty not to have set someone else ablaze by now.

And maybe she should be with someone. Someone better, and softer. Who tells her he loves her when she needs to hear it instead of assuming silence is enough.

I exhale hard.

My right hand lets go of the wheel long enough to run down my face, over my mouth, and through my hair.

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