Page 2 of Vows in Sin
I open my mouth to answer Tabby, but no words come.
I’m transported back to that night in Rome. Standing on the balcony of the hotel’s rooftop bar after our meal, the cool night air caressing my skin. Dame’s arms around me. My tears were soaking through his shirt. The memory of my sister, bright and bold, a white shock of pain. And he held me.
He’s the only person who ever made my pain feel seen. If that even makes sense.
I brush a tear from my cheek, blinking away the memory. Now, watching the girl and her friends skipping the line to join a group of women at the front door, I swallow back the lump in my throat. Tabby’s one of my two best friends. She’ll have to understand.
I need to see him.
Tabitha’s worried voice brings me back to the present. “Hello? Seraphina! You there?”
“Sorry! Sorry!” How long had I spaced out for? “I think I saw a doppelganger for your ex, Blake. Remember him? The one that called you Legs?”
She groans. “Please never repeat his name or that nickname.”
“K. But you do have really nice legs.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, Legs.”
“Stop. It.”
I watch as the massive silver doors part in unison, the beat of the music pouring out into the night as beautiful people flow into the club. “Look. I’m really, really sorry about this—but are you 100% sure you can’t ask your dad to get me into Gotcha tonight?”
“I told you, you’re not even supposed to know Dad’s a member! I swore to him I wouldn’t tell any friends.”
“So true,” I agree.
“Besides, it’s not like he is a bouncer. He’s doing some old man job. Probably in an office.”
Darn.
She says, “I told you not to give me cheap wine. It makes all my secrets come out.
I shoot her a telepathic accusatory glance, hoping she can feel it. “Your dad being a Bachman wasn’t the only secret we learned that night.”
“I can’t believe you’re still mad about that,” she says. “It was seventh grade!”
“You knew Chad Reed was my crush. Since sixth grade. How could you kiss him behind the bleachers?”
She’s stifling a laugh. “Take a hint from Frozen, friend. Make like Elsa and let it go.”
“Hey Tabs?”
“What?”
“Wanna build a snowman?”
She gives another groan, probably rolling her eyes. “No. I do not.”
The line is moving now, the new high-tech glowing bracelets making easy work of entry.
“Okay, okay. Forget Chad Reed. No more cheap wine,” I promise her. “But you know I’m brokenhearted over Dame not returning my phone calls. The time we spent together in Rome was so magical.”
“Of course it was! You were in Rome. Benedict Cumberbatch would look good on a vacation like that.”
I turn to face the brick wall and lower my voice. “What do you say?” I attempt to say the name, “Bend-a-dick Commer-what?” I angrily whisper at her, “You know I don’t watch porn like you?—”
“Oh, my gawd. That was ONE time!” she shouts back. “And you were early! I thought I was alone.”
“Still.”
“Someone on my summer camp text thread said they think our old camp counselor is in it.”
I run my fingertips over the bumpy brick. “You still have a text thread from summer camp?”
“Yes.”
“Impressive.”
“I know,” she agrees. “Anyway, supposedly the star was our archery instructor, Hot Scott. I had to look.”
“Had to?”
“Can you please let it go?
“Never mind.” I peek around the corner. The line is almost gone. “What about getting me into the club?”
She sighs. “Look, I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I didn’t want to, and now I have to.”
“Have to tell me what?” My brow creases so hard I’ll need Botox before I’m 30. There’s a long pause. “What is it, Tabs? Tell me.”
“I’m worried about you. I’ve never seen you this hung up on a guy before. Except for once.”
“Chad Reed,” we both say at once.
“Right.” Concern seeps into her voice. “Which is why I also never told you about that kiss!”
“I forgive you for Chad.” My attention strays back to the club. The line is almost gone. “But the kiss would smooth over quicker if you could have gotten me into the club tonight.”
“You’re still trying to get in, after everything I’ve said!”
“Maybe.”
“Wait a minute,” she clicks her tongue, something she does when she’s thinking. “Are you at Gotcha right now?”
I test the waters. “What if I am?”
Her response snuffs out my now-pitiful spark of hope. “You need to go home,” she says. “I’m sending you an Uber.”
Wait! “No! Tabby. Don’t do that?—”
“Hang on,” she says. “I’m putting you on speakerphone so I can look up your location if you won’t tell me.”
I blurt out, “That’s not necessary!”
The sound of shuffling and her voice goes echoey.
Bracing myself, I wait for her to realize what I’ve done.
3—2—1 ? —
My whole face winces as she shouts, “You stopped sharing your location! A single girl. In the city. Wandering around by yourself, breaking into clubs?—”
“Gotta go! Love you so much. Kisses, and I’ll call you tomorrow!” I hang up before she can stop me. I’ll bring her a latte and a warm croissant from the bakery in the morning as an apology.
I turn my phone off, slipping it into the pocket of my dress.
I didn’t want it to come to this.
But here we are.
Time for Plan C.