Page 288 of By His Vow

It was a good plan. A really fucking good plan. One I wish I was smart enough to see coming. But I have to admit that I was just as blindsided by the suggestion when Dad brought it to me as Tatum was the day of the will reading.

But I also couldn’t have predicted these past few weeks. Nor would I have wanted to.

They’ve been incredible—I guess everything an arranged marriage should be—up until Tuesday, when she decided that her inheritance wasn’t worth having to endure me.

Pain slices through my chest.

I don’t want to believe it.

Tatum Warner isn’t the kind of woman who runs from anything. She rolls her shoulders back, holds her head high and stares the problem dead in the eyes.

I’ve seen her do it time and time again. Mostly because I’ve been the one she’s glaring at.

Unable to stay here lying to myself that sleep will come, I roll out of bed, my body aching like I’ve never experienced before. Sure, I’d had some serious gym sessions over the years, and there was a time that Kieran wasn’t the only one running around on a football field, but I’ve never, ever felt this fucking broken.

I don’t get it. How can one person have such an effect on your life that it physically makes your muscles ache?

I’m starting to understand Dad a little more. I always thought he was a cold, closed-off asshole for the way he treated women. But I get it.

Tatum and I barely had any time together and yet this is the result. How the fuck must it feel after years of marriage and three kids together?

Fuck. It doesn’t even bear thinking about.

No wonder he turned his focus to business and fucking women who’d never claim his heart.

Self-preservation at its finest.

It’s no way to fucking live your life, though. Constantly scared of being hurt.

I shake my head as I step into the shower, turning it on and letting myself get blasted by cold water.

It’s certainly not the fucking life I want to live, that’s for sure.

I told myself—and Miles—that I’d give Tatum two weeks, two long-ass fucking weeks, before I did anything.

At the time, it seemed like a good fucking idea.

I was sober and listening to my own advice about her needing time to process. I was trying to be a decent fucking human being and not sweep in and turn her world upside down all over again with my demands.

The second I said the words, I regretted them, and I’ve questioned my sanity a million times since.

I’m right, though, I know I am.

Doesn’t fucking help much when she’s the only thing I can think about.

With the sun barely peeking above the horizon, I pull my car into the underground parking lot beneath Callahan Enterprises.

I haven’t been here since Miles and I began putting our plan into action with Warner Group, and it’s not until I step out of the elevator on the silent top floor of the building and breathe in the familiar scent that I realize how much I’ve missed it.

This place has been my home for almost as long as I can remember.

As a teenager, it didn’t matter where we lived, or what school I attended, or what woman Dad was fucking; it was this place where I felt most at home. Apparently, not a lot has changed.

Our assistant’s desk sits empty, as I imagine almost every other one in the building does at this time of the morning.

It’s peaceful, and I’m not sure if that’s exactly what I need or if coming here is the worst decision I’ve made since giving Tatum time.

Probably the latter.