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

I smile to myself as I carefully raise the terracotta pot holding the miniature rose plant I grew for Zane, his words still ringing through my mind.

I love you with all my heart. I always have, and I always will.

For a little while, I was beginning to doubt that he still loved me, and my endless attempts to earn his forgiveness had begun to make me feel like I was burdening him. Just as I was about to lose hope, he gave me exactly what I needed to hold on a little tighter.

I grin at the tiny roses in my arms, eager to show them to my husband. Out of everything I’ve given him, this is the gift I’ve been looking forward to most. I just know he’ll love it. When Sierra learned I’d been gifting Zane plants and flowers, she nearly burst into tears, reassuring me over and over again that it was the right thing to do, and not to give up.

The girls and I collectively agreed I should keep doing what I’m doing, showing Zane my endless devotion, until he can finally believe in me again. I wish there was another way, but even they agreed that only time could heal our wounds.

I pull my plant to my chest excitedly as I roam around the house in search of Zane, only for my mood to sink when I find his home office empty.

I clutch my plant pot a little tighter as I make my way to the observatory, trepidation running down my spine. My gaze drops to my little red roses when I reach the glass doors, and I bite down on my lip, suddenly unsure.

When we first got married, he told me the observatory was off-limits, only to take back those words on my birthday. So much has happened since then that I’m not quite sure where we stand today.

I draw a shaky breath as I take a step into the hallway that leads to the gardens. He’s no longer pushing me away in the same manner he did shortly after my birthday, but I’m not sure he’ll want me here. Zane has barely begun to tolerate me entering his home office, and the last thing I want to do is push his buttons unnecessarily.

I glance around at the massive space, my feet subconsciously guiding me down a familiar path. The gardens changed in the last couple of years, and my heart wrenches when I notice the absence of lily varieties in all parts of the observatory. Initially, I thought he simply couldn’t see them without missing her, but that isn’t the case at all. They might remind him of her, but it’s because of me. He can’t see them without thinking of what she destroyed, of my accusations, and the way he begged me to have faith in us.

I didn’t understand why he looked so hurt when I told him I’d forgive him on my birthday, but in hindsight, I’m surprised his reaction wasn’t worse. The pain in his eyes when he told me I couldn’t forgive him for something he didn’t do should’ve told me what I was refusing to see, even then.

I sigh as I pause in front of the pathway that leads to the rose garden, somehow certain I’ll find him there, in his favorite place. Standing here, uncertain whether he’ll even want me in his mother’s garden just makes it all the more obvious we’ve enveloped ourselves in a bubble that always seems to be on the verge of breaking. I want something real, something that’ll last, and I think he does too. I just don’t know how to get there.

My eyes drop to my hot pink nail polish, aptly named You’re the Shade That I Want, and I let it fuel my resolve as I take a cautious step forward, the smell of roses filling the air. It reminds me of every good memory we created, and with a little bit of luck, the good will end up outweighing the bad over time.

Soft laughter rings through the garden, and I turn toward it, startled. My gaze settles on Zane, and I take another step toward him, only to freeze when I realize he isn’t alone. I stare at the familiar blonde who’s dressed in gardening trousers similar to Zane’s, and my stomach twists painfully when I realize who she is — she’s the woman he danced with in Hawaii.

I bite my lip as I watch my husband smile in a carefree way, his expression entirely disarmed and his gaze enraptured. He hasn’t looked at me that way in years. She says something, and he laughs again, the sound filled with the kind of joy he used to share with me. Now, when he looks at me, his gaze is always a little bittersweet, like he can’t look at me and just see me, not anymore.

I take a step back, my heart breaking. Is this why he told me he didn’t want me here? Zane always said he only ever wanted to share this place with his wife. He barely even makes exceptions for his immediate family, and she definitely isn’t family. Is this why he told me the observatory was off-limits to me?

My hands begin to tremble when Zane lifts the bottom of his t-shirt and pulls it to his face, using it to wipe off his sweat in a signature move he always knew I couldn’t resist. We’d spend hours in this garden, chatting as he took care of his roses, and each time he pulled his tee up like that, I’d end up moaning his name within minutes.

Tears begin to fill my eyes, and my lungs burn as I try to force air into them. Who is she? Why was she allowed in here when I’m not? I still remember the way he looked at her at Dion’s wedding — with such hope, and with that same enraptured look he directs her way now. Is that how long this has been going on? Has he been seeing her, meeting with her right here, in our house?

I take another step back and stumble, accidentally letting my plant pot slip between my trembling fingers. It hits the ground before I can catch it, the delicate terracotta shattering into pieces, soil spreading everywhere. Zane’s gaze snaps up, and his eyes widen when he sees me. Concern flashes through his eyes, and for a few moments, I’m sure I see guilt in them too. He hadn’t expected me to come here, that much is clear.

I suck in a breath and drop to my knees to gather what remains of the rose plant I spent weeks nurturing, only to cut my fingers on the pot’s shards. I hiss in pain and pull my hand to my chest, a sob tearing through my throat. Blood runs down my hand, and I stare at it, my chest aching.

How come it took me so long to realize the shards of something broken can’t be turned into something beautiful as Faye had hoped? If Zane and I keep holding on to each other’s broken pieces, we’ll both end up bleeding.

“Celeste,” Zane says, kneeling in front of me. He takes my hand in his, his touch gentle. “Are you okay?”

I look up at him through my tears, my heart broken beyond repair. “Who is she?” I ask, torment seeping into my voice. “H-how long… how long has this been going on?”

His expression falls, and he pulls his hands away. “She’s a botanist, Celeste. She’s just here to help me figure out why my roses are dying.”

I stare at him, unsure if I believe him. Is that how it started? Is she the reason he didn’t want me here, why he didn’t take me to the rose garden for my birthday?

“Don’t do this,” he tells me as he runs a hand through his hair. “Don’t punish me for something I didn’t do, Celeste.”