Page 148 of Broken Vows

“She’s not at home,” Levi says. “Her car’s there, but Fifi’s gone. I just need to know she’s okay.”

Diane stays silent.

“Look, I messed up. Real bad. She said she never wants to see me again, but⁠—”

“Then maybe respect it.”

The door closes.

Diane finds me a few seconds later.

“Oh, honey,” she says, as she takes me in.

“I can’t stay here.”

“He won’t get past me. But why don’t we head to the lake cabin for the weekend. No reception unless you stand on the back step and sacrifice a goat. No one knows about it except family.” She glances at Fifi. “Dogs allowed, obviously.”

An hour later, we’re in Diane’s car with Fifi tucked into her pink carrier on my lap and three bottles of wine clinking softly in a tote bag at my feet. I don’t look toward my house as we drive past. I don’t let myself check if Levi is outside or if his car is in the driveway.

I keep my eyes on Fifi instead. She blinks up at me, tongue poking out the side of her mouth, blissfully unaware that my entire life has come apart.

By the time we reach the cabin, the afternoon has turned soft and gray. The lake lies still under a low sky, the air cold enough that I pull my cardigan tighter as Diane unlocks the door.

Inside, the place smells faintly of timber and dust. There’s a small kitchen, a worn couch, a fireplace, and a wide glass door overlooking the water.

No texts come through. No missed calls. No buzzing phone.

No one can reach me. I should feel relieved. Instead, I sit on the couch with Fifi in my lap and let the silence settle around me.

Diane makes tea first, then opens wine. She doesn’t push me to talk. She just sits beside me, one leg tucked beneath her, and lets the quiet do its work.

Eventually, I ask if the landline works. Diane nods, but she gives me a slightly suspicious look.

“I’m just going to call Grace,” I say.

She heads outside to busy herself with firewood while I stand by the phone, trying to gather the courage to make the call.

Grace answers quickly and launches into a cheerful stream of updates—pretzel cravings, the five pounds she swears she’s already gained, and Drew’s dramatic complaints in the background about impending financial ruin from her snack addiction.

The easy warmth between them makes my chest ache.

When Grace asks how I am, shame rises so fast I can barely speak.

“Can you put Drew on for a second?” I ask.

There’s a pause. “Uh…okay?”

A moment later, Drew’s voice comes through, still warm with leftover laughter. “Carmen.”

“Do you know a man named Levi James?”

The line goes dead silent.

When Drew speaks again, all the humor is gone. “What’s going on?”

My hand tightens around the phone. “Is he…dangerous?”

“Yes,” Drew says without hesitation. “Very. Now tell me what the hell is going on.”