Page 62 of Broken Vows

“I’m slammed with work. I’ll drop in when I get a chance, okay? Love you.”

“Love you too.”

The call ends.

I set the phone down and sit there for a moment, the warmth of the evening thinning around the edges.

Then I notice something wet and crumpled on the carpet.

I pick it up. It’s the bake sale flyer.

Mostly chewed.

“Oh, Fifi.” I glance toward the couch, where she’s still sleeping. “Silly girl. It’s not food.”

I smooth it out as best I can, though it’s beyond saving. I never did get a chance to read it properly, but I know it’s this Friday night.

Despite everything, I find myself smiling.

I’m looking forward to it.

17

CARMEN

Itake a deep breath as we pull up to the school on Friday afternoon. I only had a half day of classes, which worked out perfectly for helping with the bake sale setup. Levi has been quiet the whole drive, fingers tapping the steering wheel like he’s heading into battle instead of a school event.

I’m pretty sure his shoulder is bothering him. Every time he uses his left hand to steady the wheel, tension flickers across his jaw. He hasn’t said a word about it, though.

We unpack everything Theo and I baked yesterday—triple-chocolate fudge brownies, lemon drizzle cake, classic shortbread, and gooey chocolate chip cookies.

There’s a lot. Probably too much. But it was so much fun baking with Theo. He took it all so seriously, measuring each ingredient with intense concentration.

It has been a while since I baked most of these, and I was worried they wouldn’t be good enough. They must have turned out okay, though. I’ve already had to smack Levi’s hand twice to keep him out of the brownies. He’s eaten three.

Levi insists on carrying everything inside himself, balancing several containers in one arm despite the obvious strain on his shoulder.

We step inside and the gymnasium is already buzzing with cheerful chaos. Long folding tables line the walls, covered in bright tablecloths and handmade signs. The high ceiling echoes with laughter and chatter, and the air smells of vanilla and cinnamon.

Levi gestures to a table with a piece of paper that says “James” written on it in marker.

“James?” I ask.

“That’s us.”

I look up at him. “I just realized you’ve been living next door for weeks and I didn’t even know your last name.”

“Hm,” he says.

“You don’t know mine either.”

He looks down at me. “Yeah, I don’t.”

“It’s Whitmore,” I say, wondering if he would make the connection to the supplement empire. He doesn’t, of course.

He just nods.

“You make that look so easy,” I say, smiling as he sets the containers on our table.