Page 153 of Vows We Never Made

I especially don’t like being stuck here, sorting out office business at our headquarters in Manhattan. Gramps needed a proper office within striking distance of Maine for his large prestigious firm, even if he called most of the shots from Portland.

I also hate the minefield that’s staying with my parents—and knowing they’ll skewer me alive if they find out I’m crashing in a hotel or Airbnb.

For all their selfish distance, they take it weirdly personally if I’m in town and I don’t come home.

With Hattie by my side, though, the whole affair feels tolerable.

Since her bookstore hasn’t had its grand reopening yet, she has the luxury of traveling along like a second shadow.

Perks of fake engagement, I guess.

My relationships were never this sticky before.

She doesn’t seem to mind the heat either.

Hell, it’s like she thrives in it, dressed down in airy summer dresses that cling to her curves or tiny shorts that make my teeth clench.

It’s almost enough that I don’t want her leaving the house without me because I know what sort of attention she’ll attract from men who need to learn to keep their eyes riveted to their sockets.

Yes, I know.

That kind of psycho possessive behavior won’t go down well if I actually try to put her under house arrest—even the sexy kind.

She made that very clear at the power dinner where I caught Cooper Daley moving in. And that was before we were together the way we are now.

Not a relationship, exactly, but it sure as hell feels like one as she clings to my arm, feasting on the cityscape’s sights and sounds like it’s all new to her.

“Is it even a real visit if we don’t get a hot dog from a street vendor?” she asks as she passes a loaded dog over, licking mustard from her fingers.

“Careful, we’re in public,” I say wryly, trying to ignore the pull in my dick that reminds me how much I love watching her suck her fingers.

“Get your mind out of the gutter.” She beams.

“With you and that hot dog, Pages, that’s where it lives.”

With a dramatic sigh, she leads me around the corner, into Times Square. The massive billboards flash all around us, and she pauses to take everything in.

“You know, I always think it’ll be less impressive in person.” There’s awe etched on her face.

Figures.

I can’t count the number of times I’ve been here.

You get plenty of tourists, people like Hattie standing with their faces turned up and eyes shining. But mostly, the people there are like me—just trying to get somewhere.

“This isn’t your first time?” I ask.

“Pretty much my first as a grown-up,” she says, spinning in a circle. She stops abruptly. “I haven’t been here since I was little. Mom never wanted to come back after Dad left.”

“Left?” I look at her gently, curious because it’s the first time she’s mentioned her father and I know it can’t be good.

“I barely remember him and that’s for the best. Aside from our little trips, they fought all the time.” She smiles bitterly, lost somewhere in the past. “One day, Mom told me he decided to go on a really long trip. She didn’t know when he was coming back. A couple years later, that became never.”

“Shit, Hattie. I’m sorry.”

“That’s life.” She shrugs. “People make mistakes and they don’t get a chance to fix them. When I was older, I found out the truth. He was having an affair with a woman in Vancouver for years. He’d make a lot of trips there for fishing crab some seasons. After Mom told him they were done, he moved in with the other woman and kept working there. Heart attack hit him on one of those fishing jobs and… yeah.”

Yeah.