A Promise Broken

by Anissa Garcia

  “I thought you guys didn’t like him when he started dating me.”

  “He had a tendency to go after—” He stopped himself. I waited.

  “After?”

  He blinked and turned away, running his hand over his shadowed jaw. “Nothing, never mind.”

  “The girls you wanted?”

  Was I a part of that equation? He side-eyed me and snatched the bottle from my hands. “We shouldn’t be drinking. I think we need to make that a rule when we hang out.”

  “We always drink.” I watched as he ambled to the kitchen, putting the bottle into the cabinet above the fridge. “How the hell am I supposed to reach that?”

  “You’re not.” He opened the fridge, searching for something to eat. “And don’t take that fuckwad’s calls anymore, got it? He needs to back off and leave you alone.”

  “Fine, I won’t.”

  “Good.” He smiled, then closed the fridge. “I should’ve brought back some pizza.”

  I didn’t say anything. Instead, my eyes roamed his body as he approached. His jeans and shirt were perfectly snug. He sat beside me and grabbed the remote. I was hyper-aware of his proximity. He smelled like fabric softener and aftershave. It was familiar and comfortable.

  “Hilary.” His voice was soft as his eyes met mine. “Stop looking at me like that.”

  “Like what?” I blinked at him with innocence.

  “Like you want me to make love to you,” he said breathlessly.

  My heart skipped a beat. I fumbled with my hands. Make love. I hadn’t thought of him making love to me that night. He’d fucked me damn well, and I wanted that again. I also knew what his dilemma was, and I refused to pressure him.

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Collins.” His phone trilled in his pocket. He reached in to retrieve it, looked at the screen, and hit the end button. “Who’s Isabella?”

  He hesitated. “Uh, my chef.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Bullshit. You know I can tell when you’re lying.”

  “I’m not lying.” He laughed. “She’s my chef.”

  “And your fuck buddy?” His eyes closed. Yup, he’d slept with her. His whole body tensed. “Do you like her?”

  His eyes shot to mine. “No. I mean, yes, but…not in that way.”

  The pang of possessiveness that swept through me was similar to when Graham had said he was working late, and that his co-worker was just that. “Is she pretty?” I asked quietly.

  He nodded. “Very.”

  “Oh.” Ouch, that stung more than I expected. I snapped out of my pity party and stood. “Well, then? Why aren’t you answering her call? You could be with her now.”

  His bewilderment was obvious as I rushed to the window. It was hot, and I needed a draft. And he was right. Drinking around each other wasn’t a good idea. He watched as I yanked on the edges of the glass, trying to pry the window open.

  “I told you, I don’t care for her in that way.”

  “So? You don’t have to care for her in that way in order to fuck. You did it already, didn’t you?” I struggled, but the pane wouldn’t budge. “Dammit, the window won’t open, and it’s so hot in here.”

  “Only once,” he mumbled reluctantly.

  “Spare me the details, Zachary.” I tugged, becoming breathless as I fought against the window. My voice pitched higher as I tried hitting the edges with my palms. "Fucking stupid window.”

  He drew up behind me, placing his hands over mine. I froze as his body pressed against me. We lingered, my back against his chest. Fast-paced huffs escaped him. His mouth was near my ear, the humidity of his breaths caused me to tremble.

  “Gently.” He spoke affectionately, drawing up the window. The crisp air didn’t make a difference when his warm body was near mine. His hands wrapped around my waist, and he squeezed for only a second as his lips descended to the spot between my neck and shoulder. He gave the skin there a sweet kiss. His lips lingered longer than they should’ve. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. His nose grazed my neck as he pulled away. “Graham will regret letting you go for the rest of his life.”

  Chills ran down my spine, all thoughts of Graham long vanished. My body turned, needing more of Zach’s touch. His warm palms cupped my cheeks. I wanted more of him. All of him. He looked amazing tonight. I loved the way his emerald green eyes locked on mine, promising me that my darkest desires were a mere whisper away. His thick, dark hair swirled in waves I couldn’t wait to run my hands through. His strong touch had me reeling, and when he’d denied that he was a good man, instead of pushing me away, it only made feelings trickle in through the cracks of my heart.

  He backed off and headed to the stairs, escaping me. Leaving me in complete need. Bitterness toward my brother crept over me. Zach wouldn’t lose his friend, his boss. I was a risk he wasn’t willing to take. I had to remember what Zach had said when he left me that day, naked and alone. Hilary, this can’t ever happen again. I was sure he’d stick by what he said. He was a good man, after all, and a good man didn’t break his promises. But maybe, just maybe, some promises were meant to be broken.

  ZACH WAS GONE when I woke. Having him in the next room had me tossing and turning. I wished I could forget all about the night we spent together—the way his body moved against mine, the taste of his lips, the way his hips stilled as he came. In all my years with Graham, he had never sexually pleased me the way Zach had. It was like he was the oasis in my desert, giving me relief from a long drought.

  He still wanted me. I craved him. There was nothing wrong with making an agreement to keep things purely physical. We’d proven that we could go months without seeing one another. We were now in the same living space and made it work. Then again, the whole Isabella subject had an unanticipated effect.

  Working on my blog today was out of the question. My mind needed an escape of a different kind, and the movies were my drug of choice. I accepted an invite to a press screener for a rom-com with none other than Ben Taylor. He wasn’t the lead. His cameo would be short, but after talking with him about working with veteran actress and two-time Academy Award Nominee Madison Strahan, I couldn’t resist. I told him of my plan to attend the early viewing, and he asked me to go easy on him in my critique. Lucky for him, I mainly paid attention to the film, not the acting.

  The smell of fresh popcorn revived my spirits as I strolled inside the theatre. A cluster of people stood waiting where a portly man set up paperwork on a table. I approached and waited for instructions, as was the norm for most press screenings. He checked everyone’s credentials and passed out the necessary forms for us to fill out.

  A woman around my age with a chin-length haircut and round, crystal blue eyes glanced at me and smiled. I returned it and gave a shy nod of hello.

  “I haven’t seen you at the screeners before. Are you with one of the local papers?” Her voice was light and airy, and she resembled a comic-book character. Her jet-black hair brought out the sprinkle of freckles across her nose. She stood with poise, and although she was petite, her presence was distinct.

  “No, I got invited by the movie company. I run a lifestyle blog.”

  She perked up with enthusiasm. “I have a blog, too. It’s called Fangirl, Film, and Fun.” We both chuckled as she shrugged. “I’m a bit of a film geek.”

  “Me, too,” I said. My hand reached out to clasp hers. “I’m Hilary with Life, Books, and Loves.”

  Her smile was genial. “Renee Hayes. Nice to meet you.”

  “You, too. I just moved from Boston, so I don’t know many people yet.” After Graham and I had split, it dawned on me that most of my friends from school had gone their separate ways. I didn’t have anyone to talk to. I was living with Zach now, and Grace was next door, but I couldn’t talk to them about…well, Zach. I needed to step out and make friends. Perhaps this was a start.

  “Welcome to the city that rhymes with yours. How are you liking it?”

  Her relaxed manner made it effortless to chat. “I’ve only been here a few d
ays. I’m taking over a friend’s job for a while. I haven’t seen much, honestly, but it’s much hotter here than back home.”

  She groaned. “Oh, yeah, the Texas summers are brutal, and you’re just at the beginning. Wait until July and August. You’ll want to spend a lot of time at Barton Springs. I’d say try Hamilton Pool Preserve in Dripping Springs, but there’s always a line there, and it gets booked up quickly.”

  I had no idea what she was rambling about, but I’d ask Zach about it. Perhaps he’d want to join me. He would be too busy for sightseeing, though, and I had to push him out of my mind. “Have you heard much about the movie?” I asked.

  Renee lit up. “I have! I heard Madison Strahan is amazing, but when isn’t she, ya know? And I’m looking forward to seeing Benjamin Taylor in it.”

  I hid a smile. “Oh? You’re a fan?”

  “I’ve been following his career ever since he was in The Priority.” I nodded as she continued. “I also heard he’s in Austin filming the last Ending Series movie. I love those movies. I’ve had secret daydreams of running into him or Evan Matthews, but I’m such a homebody, it’ll probably never happen. Although, my friend ran into Kara Jones at Target. I don’t know if I believe her, though.”

  I chuckled. Before I could say anything in response, we were given instructions to turn off and check in our mobile devices and head inside for the screening. Renee and I sat down, making ourselves comfortable.

  “Please tell me you’re getting popcorn or a snack or something. I don’t want to be the only one.”

  “Definitely,” I said, pulling out cash from my wallet.

  Renee put out her hand. “I got it. Just keep our seats warm. You want butter? I like butter.”

  “What kind of question is that? Of course.”

  She took my drink request, and it wasn’t long before she came back with a tray full of treats. The people around us stared, but she rolled her eyes and whispered my way, “Some of these people take the whole review process very seriously. They don’t eat during the film.”

  “That’s absurd. What’s a movie without popcorn?” I asked, stuffing my mouth.

  “Exactly.” She paused, studying me for a moment. “I think you and I may become great friends.”

  “Agreed.”

  Chapter Eleven

  · zach ·

  “That smell can only mean great things.” I entered through the kitchen’s double doors. The restaurant was coming together nicely. Repairs were currently being made to the restrooms, the patio was getting a stage built for live music, and the kitchen was finally complete. There were still issues with the dining area inside, but Joanna was on it, sending me ideas every day. “Please tell me I get to eat sweets today.”

  Isabella turned, her bright smile wide. “It’s your lucky day.” She opened the oven and took out a pan of something that smelled like lemon.

  There was a line of already made and set desserts in the designated area. Any and most of my spare time was spent working on the restaurant these days. It was both a blessed relief and agony staying away from Hilary. She constantly walked around the house in overly large shirts with no pants, showing off those gorgeously tanned legs. The fact that she had a tiny scrap of material underneath had me walking around with a constant hard-on. How often she realized that was beyond me, but her eyes relentlessly scanned my body, which did little to help. I was getting the worst case of blue balls known to man. Evan had nothing on me when it came to being chaste. He thought waiting a few months with Grace was difficult, he had no idea what it was like to wait longer.

  I wanted Hilary, desperately. I tried not to flirt, or touch, or give signals of any kind, but shutting down my attraction to her was proving to be more difficult than ever. Even in the presence of Isabella, my sexy-as-hell hired chef, I was unable to get Hilary out of my head.

  Dark brown eyes set on mine as I approached. “Hello, stranger.”

  I kissed her cheeks, once on each side. “We’re testing it all out, then?”

  She nodded. Stray curly strands fell from her up-do onto her olive skin. She was a beauty, and if obsessive thoughts of Hilary hadn’t plagued my mind, Isabella and I would’ve maybe had more than one night together. “We’ve got the ones I discussed and a few others I came up with at the last minute. I tried to call, but you never answer your phone.” The nudge on my arm and her expression showed concern. “Everything all right?”

  “I’m dealing with some…family stuff.” Every dessert was perfectly laid out, the portion size to the specifications she’d suggested. I picked up a fork and studied the plate in front of me. “What’s this one?”

  “That’s the vanilla chiffon cake with orange zest and a glaze.”

  I took a bite and closed my eyes, the bursts of flavor hitting my sugar-deprived tongue. “That’s beautiful. Perfect. I shouldn’t have doubted.”

  She snorted. “I told you to trust me.” Her breath shook as she began again. “You could trust me with your family things, too. I’m your friend.”

  I nodded, trying to figure out what to say to her, how to say it. “I…care for someone. A lot more than I expected to.”

  Isabella straightened. My intent wasn’t to hurt her, and I hoped she wouldn’t be upset, but I felt comfortable enough to talk with her. She was the only one I could confide in at this point. My nerves dissipated when she gave a small smile. “Well, well. The lone ranger has the feels.”

  I laughed. “It’s a first for me.”

  “So, what’s the problem? Ask her out.” Her voice wasn’t judgmental. We had talked about her past—she was freshly divorced. She inquired about mine—I never gave details. However, I’d told her where I stood. Relationships weren’t for me. Most women said they were okay with that, then tried to change my mind. Isabella appeared straight forward, but one never knew for sure. “The only way to know is to ask her, my friend.”

  “Her brother’s my boss…as in one of the main investors of this place…as in, he’s my best friend. We all grew up together, in the same house, which makes me…”

  “Family,” she finished. “Oh, Zach, please tell me you haven’t already slept with her.” Her lips flattened as she searched my eyes and shook her head. “You did. Wow. That’s a problem.” She picked up another fork and tore into the same dessert, mulling over the taste. “I could add lemon zest.”

  “No, I like it as is.” I moved the dish aside as she pushed the next plate over. This one was as dark as the curly hair on her head. “This one?”

  “Fudge mocha torte. It has espresso and raspberry puree.”

  “Good God, woman.” I dipped my fork into the rich treat and savored the taste. “You know you won’t stay single for long, right? Make this for any man you date, and he’ll be on his knee proposing in two seconds.”

  Her laughter rang out. “Well, let’s hope he’s better than the first one who fell in love with my torte.”

  I placed my fork down and grabbed her hand. “He will be. He’ll be a non-gambling, drug-free, cat-loving dude.”

  “He has to love my cats,” she huffed. Her other hand clasped over mine. “You’ll figure your shit out, too. Just don’t get our restaurant closed, got it?”

  “Got it.” I picked up my fork as she placed another dessert in front of me. “And this is some type of bread?”

  “It’s a white chocolate bread pudding with a bourbon cream sauce.”

  “Be still my friggin’ heart.” I reveled in her other sweets, giving her pointers on the ones I didn’t care for like the lemon rosemary cake, and fixating on the crazy delicious torte. We discussed other items on the main menu and the small kitchen fixes that needed to be addressed.

  I was about ready to leave when she stopped me. “Zach, does this girl like you back?”

  Images of Hilary ran through my head. “She’s a bit hung up on her ex. I don’t think she’ll ever care for me the way she did him.” I ran a hand over my scruff, now a bit thicker. “And if it doesn’t work out…”

 
“You run the risk of losing it all,” she said. I stayed silent as she approached me. Her hand cupped my cheek. “You deserve what you think you don’t.”

  I swallowed the sudden dryness that clumped in my throat. Isabella had no idea of the remorse and betrayal that ate away at me every time I was around Hilary or Evan. I couldn’t even talk to Rebecca, the woman who practically raised me and had become my mother. My behavior was inexcusable. I wasn’t a true Matthews. My real mother told me exactly who I was…a Collins. And the Collins men were nothing but shit—good for nothing, unfaithful jerks who never kept their word. She told me I’d grow up to be just like my dad, and although I never wanted to believe her, I’d become exactly that. There was no reprieve from what I’d done because I couldn’t get myself to regret what I did with Hilary. The worst part was that I wanted to do it again and again.

  New Year’s Eve 1988

  “WHERE THE FUCK are you?” The scream sounded through the hallway. I sat in my closet, surrounded by the toys and books I had stashed over the past few weeks. I turned off the flashlight and hugged my knees.

  “Zachary Connor Collins. Get the hell over here!”

  She was angry when she used my middle name. And when she was angry, she threw things at me. Sometimes, they hit me, but most of the time, her aim was off. She always fell asleep soon after and didn’t remember anything the next day. My hiding place protected me.

  We used to have people who helped me. The housekeepers, nannies, cooks, and assistants would try to shield me, but they never stayed on long. Mommy had fits and fired them, especially when anyone spoke back to her. I had made that mistake before, and she slapped me across the face.

  My stomach rumbled, but I knew the pantry wasn’t stocked. I always tried to sneak an extra sandwich at school during lunch, but Mrs. Peterson caught me once and made me return it. Since then, she watched me like a hawk. Evan was nice and shared his chocolate chip cookies with me, though. He always shared his dessert. His mommy baked for him and his sister Katie all the time.