Page 26 of By His Vow

It smells exactly like it looks. “Day one of our new lives together,” I muse, looking down at the glass as if I’m considering it. But right before it touches my lips, I move my arm, holding it over the sink and pouring it down the drain. “And it already seems you need a reminder that while I might be about to become Mrs. Callahan, I will never, ever be yours.”

7

KINGSTON

Iam about to be married to the most infuriating, defiant brat in the entire world.

The memory of her tipping the superfood juice down the drain this morning plays on repeat in my mind.

I was trying to help.

She was beyond wasted when I turned up to Maxies last night. Miles didn’t even notice me; he was too distracted by a harem of women to see me slip into the VIP room at the back and steal his sister right from under his nose.

He was meant to be looking after her, protecting her, yet there she was, half comatose on the couch surrounded by cocktail glasses.

If I couldn’t tell she was wasted by looking at her, then it was more than obvious when I slipped my hands under her body and lifted her.

She gazed up at me through glassy eyes and called me her hero.

The world is more likely to stop turning than her calling me that if she were sober.

Using the bar’s back exit, I carried her out unnoticed and held her the entire journey back to her apartment.

I was expecting to find her roommate at some point, for her to be the one to cuss me out and tell me where to go for touching her best friend, but the apartment was blissfully peaceful—although a total fucking dump—as I stripped her hoodie and leggings from her body and tucked her into bed.

I placed a bottle of water and a packet of painkillers on her nightstand before storming out almost as fast as I entered.

I considered staying, letting her wake up and discover how she got back here in one piece. But one look around her room and I knew I couldn’t do it.

The floor was covered in clothes, her countertops littered with makeup, perfume, and fuck knows whatever else. It was too much. Literally, too much fucking stuff.

But while I might not have spent the night to ensure she didn’t swallow her tongue in a drunken stupor, I had every intention of showing my face this morning.

I knew how happy she would be to see me, and she certainly didn’t disappoint.

If I weren’t so furious with her, I might just laugh.

The way she looked me dead in the eye and just poured it down the sink...

I don’t know why I’m surprised, but I fucking am.

With little else to do, while I wait for what feels like an eternity for her to get showered and dressed, I embark on attempting to sort her life out.

I’m not sure why I bother; she’s not going to be living here for much longer, but I can’t help myself.

I put the huge array of takeout containers in the trash and pile all the dirty dishes next to the sink. I would have put them in the dishwasher, but predictably, that was full of dirty dishes as well.

I set that running and immediately understand why they might not have done so before bed, because it’s the noisiest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.

I take a step back, my heart beating a little faster than necessary, but before I manage to escape the cesspit that is their kitchen, something moving through the air catches my eye a beat before it lands on my shoulder, instantly sending pain shooting down my arm.

“What the—” I turn to the side to see a ginger cat glaring at me. I swear the little fucker is smirking, too. “Get the fuck off me, vermin,” I demand as I embark on trying to pull its claws from my skin.

It hisses at me, its hackles rising higher than I thought possible. I swear to God, if the thing could talk it would be swearing at me.

“Oh, you little shit,” I bark, finally managing to get a firm enough grip around its middle that I can drag it from my body, although, I’m pretty sure it takes a chunk of my skin with it.

Fuck, that hurts.