The Broken Vows: Zane and Celeste’s Story (The Windsors)

Deep-rooted heartache spreads from my heart to every last nerve ending, and no amount of physical labor dulls it. Nothing distracts me from it.

I’m happier with Clifton than I ever was with you, Zane. Her fucking voice is in my head, taunting me every second of every fucking day, today more so than usual. That fucking bitch. I hate how beautiful she looked, how she felt against me, how she tasted. I hate every single thing about her, but what I hate most is the way I still want her.

She’s insane if she thinks she’ll marry Clifton. I’ll bury him underneath my mother’s precious roses before I let her walk down an aisle that has him waiting for her on the other end.

“I thought I might find you here.”

I tense and turn around to find my grandmother leaning back against one of the pillars in my observatory. “Grams,” I mutter, surprised to find her here.

She smiles so sweetly that she’d deceive any outsider into thinking she’s an innocent, sweet grandmother, instead of the titan she is. Even her light pink suit seems surprisingly cute. Grandma holds up a picnic basket and tilts her head. “I baked you cookies and brought some other things too. Will you eat with me?”

I sigh as I begin to pull off my gardening gloves, silently wishing for peace and quiet to just… seethe in silence. I haven’t been this angry in years, haven’t felt this fucking unhinged. I can’t tell if I want to destroy Celeste or just fuck her into oblivion. Both, perhaps.

“I’d love to,” I murmur, my monotone voice betraying my reluctance.

Grandma chuckles as she pulls a blanket out of her basket and lays it down beside Mom’s roses, her expression suspiciously serene. “Come sit.”

I do as she asks, knowing better than to deny my grandmother anything while she’s still asking nicely. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

I tried to sound a little more pleasant, but the look she throws my way tells me I failed. “Can’t I just have lunch with my grandson?”

I narrow my eyes as I fold my legs underneath me, grateful I’m wearing workout gear today. First, the boys staged a fucking intervention, and now my grandmother? Just how obvious have I made it that I’m affected by Celeste’s engagement?

Grandma hands me a cookie and I stare at it, remembering the moment I realized my sister and Celeste had become friends. We’d been at my house, and Sierra walked in with a Tupperware box filled with cookies. Normally, she’d come in just to gloat and wave them in my face before leaving again, but this time, she sat Celeste down, made her a cup of tea, and offered her a cookie.

I’d never seen anything like it before. Sierra practically engages in guerrilla warfare to get her hands on these cookies, yet there she was, handing one to Celeste, an eager expression on her face, like she’d hoped Celeste would love them as much as she does. I didn’t have the heart to tell her Celeste doesn’t like sweets of any kind.

“One day, Grandma will make them for you too,” she promised, her gaze reassuring. “When she does, I’ll absolutely fight you for them… but until then, you can have mine.”

“Zane?”

I blink in surprise to find Grandma staring at me, a hint of concern in her gaze. “Thanks,” I murmur belatedly, before biting off a chunk, the bitterness in my body rendering it completely tasteless.

“What’s going on with you, sweetheart? What are you doing here on a weekday? Why aren’t you at work?”

Because everywhere I go, I’m reminded of the past. I can’t go to the office without thinking of Lily, and I can’t be in my house without thinking of Celeste. I renovated my entire home when we broke up, and that still wasn’t enough to erase her.

“Just needed a day off,” I murmur. “I had a headache, so I thought it’d be good to spend some time here.”

Grandma raises a brow. “A headache?” she repeats, her voice dripping with disbelief. “Is that what we’re calling Celeste Harrison these days? Quite apt, I suppose.”

My head snaps up at the mention of her, but my grandmother merely grins and continues to unpack the variety of cheeses and crackers she brought, acting like nothing is amiss as she holds up a thermos. “Would you like some tea?”

I nod demurely, unsure what else to do. What is she even doing here? Something about her gaze makes me feel unsettled — she does this sometimes, makes me feel like a pawn in an elaborate game I don’t know the rules of.

She hands me a delicate porcelain cup, the Windsor crest on it in real gold. “Zane,” she says, her tone serious. My entire body tenses at the sight of that unwavering stern look in her eyes, a hint of unease running down my spine. “I would like you to stop attacking Harrison Developments. I let you do it for years because I don’t particularly like Ed Harrison, and it seemed cathartic for you. I’m starting to think that’s no longer the case.”

“I won’t,” I tell her, my tone rough. I didn’t think she’d even realized what I was up to, but I should’ve known better. There’s a lot she ignores, but there isn’t much she misses.

Grandma smiles kindly, deceptively. “Did it sound like I was asking? I’m not.”

I stare at my grandmother, trying to get a read on her and coming up empty. “Why?” My voice sounds harsher than I intended, betraying my torment.

She grins, and for a moment, she looks just like Sierra. “Because Ed and I came to an agreement.”

Dread settles in the pit of my stomach. “What?”

She reaches over and pats my hand. “Zane, your anger is merely a thin veil that attempts to obscure your pain, despite its sheer nature. It’s time to take a step forward, toward happiness. You need to move on and let the past be just that — the past.”

Move on? Like Celeste thinks she’ll do with Clifton? Is that what this is? Did Ed forsake his pride to ask for a ceasefire on his granddaughter’s behalf? A wedding present, perhaps?

“What did he offer you?” I ask, anger manifesting in my voice.

Grandma takes a sip of her tea, leaving me in suspense as her eyes roam over my face. “He offered to return something precious to me, something I’d lost.”

I tighten my grip on my cup, my anger boiling over. “What could possibly be so precious that you’d make a deal with the devil?”

She smiles, but this time, it doesn’t reach her eyes. “You.”