Broken Vows (The Daddy Secret #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Steam leaks out from under the bathroom door, bringing the smell of his vanilla soap with it. I open the door and put his clothes on the toilet seat, making sure they’re laid out nicely for when he’s done.

“Here are your clothes, honey,”

“Thank you, Alexis,”

Our wedding photo on the wall catches my eye, me in my white dress, Jeremy in his tux, both of us grinning like we had the whole world figured out. Below it sits the wooden box he gave me on our first Christmas together, filled with art supplies and an engraved note that reads “For my future famous artist.” I'd been waitressing then, sketching on napkins between serving tables. He believed in my art before I did.

The box sits dusty now, untouched for months. Just like my sketchbooks, my dreams of a career in art seem to have faded into something I'll get around to “someday.” he doesn't ask about my art anymore.

I’m closing his lunch box when he walks into the kitchen wearing his bright high vis orange work shirt, dark blue jeans, and dark brown steel toe boots. His dark hair is dripping water onto his shoulders, and his eyes still look heavy with sleep.

He opens the lunch box and looks inside before his eyes narrow a bit. “Where are my granola bars?” his tone coming out annoyed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know we were out. I’ll get some today.”

He sighs and gives me a quick kiss. “Thanks, Lex. See you tonight.”

“Have a good day,” I call after him. I lock the door behind him before going back to the kitchen, pouring myself a small hot coffee.

The familiar squeak of the third board from the refrigerator takes me back to our first night in this house. Jeremy had carried me over the threshold, both of us laughing as he nearly tripped on the uneven floor.

“We'll fix that,” he'd promised, setting me down gently. We never did. Somehow the creaky boards became part of our story, like the chip in the kitchen counter from moving day and the slightly crooked cabinet door that never quite closes right. I run my fingers along that chip now. Five years of marriage marked in the small imperfections of our home.

Sometimes I wonder if he even notices how hard I try by making sure he has his lunch prepared every morning, that he has his wallet and phone on him before he leaves, keeping the house tidy, or if it’s just become normal for him.

We used to stay up late planning vacations, watching movies, making recipes in the cook book his mother gave us. Over time, the power company took more and more of him. Longer hours, more responsibilities, endless overtime. The plans we made gather dust like my unused paint brushes.

I know I won’t fall back asleep and if I do, I’ll waste the whole day doing nothing. I walk around the house, picking things up as I go, dirty dishes, garbage, little things like that. I make the bed, fluff the pillows, and sit down to watch TV before I have to leave later.

The day passes in a blur of errands and chores. I get the granola bars and some snacks for myself. I hate going to the grocery store - everything costs so much now. But we need to eat.

I take extra time organizing the pantry, then settle on the couch and FaceTime Lilly, needing to hear a friendly voice.

She answers after a few rings, her smiling face popping up on my screen. “Hey, Lex!” she says cheerly. “How’s it going?”

We’ve been best friends forever. We’ve been friends since grade school, and our friendship has lasted through high school, college, and marriage.

I sigh and run my hand through my hair. “Hey. It’s been one of those days. I forgot his snacks, and he got annoyed, so I ran out and bought them before he comes home.”

Her face softens with a small smile. “That sounds rough. How’s he doing?”

“He’s fine, just the usual. It’s me that feels off. I think he’s so wrapped up in work that he doesn’t notice how little time we spend together.”

“Have you two tried talking about it?”

“Not really,” I admit. “I keep hoping things will get better on their own. Maybe once we’re past this busy time, things will go back to how they used to be.”

She shakes her head, her brunette curls bouncing with the motion. “Lex, you can’t just wait for things to magically fix themselves. You need to communicate. Maybe set aside some time for just the two of you, even if it’s just for dinner or a weekend getaway.”

I have tried to plan things like this before, but he either doesn’t feel well or wants to go hang out with his family.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

She’s always been the person I can trust aside from Jeremy or family. I don’t really have a lot of friends. Pretty much everyone I knew and graduated with five years ago went their separate ways.

I didn’t really have much of a plan after graduation. I knew I enjoyed creating art, writing, crafting, graphic design, but five years later I’ve never really gone anywhere with them as a business.

Sometimes, not having much of a plan makes me feel like a failure. I don’t want to rely on my husband for income, but it seems to have fallen that way.

I look at the time on my phone and realize it’s already reaching 6 o’clock in the afternoon. “Hey, I’ve got to prepare dinner, talk later?”

“Yeah! Talk later!”

We hang up, and I place my phone down on the couch and walk into the kitchen. He’s been requesting tacos for a while now, but I haven’t been wanting to make them as it’s a lot of work. But tonight I want to impress him, and cooking what he wants may ease the tension a bit. Maybe making tacos tonight will mean we won’t argue when he gets home.

I understand he’s tired after working a physically demanding job, but he doesn’t say no to his siblings or friends when they want to hang out. Only for me does he hesitate to make plans.

I miss him. I miss us.

I hear the front door knob click, and Jeremy walks in the house. I’ve already set our plates with a couple tacos.

“Hi baby, how was your day?”

“Good, have a slight headache though,” he says as he sits down to take off his shoes.

“I’m sorry. Have you had any medicine?”

“Yeah.” He slips off his shoes and puts them on the shoe rack.

“I made tacos and also got the granola bars today.”

“Sounds good baby. Hey, could you grab me some clothes? I’m going to take a bath.”

He’s been taking baths more often lately.

“Yeah, I’ll be right back.” I head toward our bedroom and grab him some fresh boxers, a shirt and some shorts, and place them on the toilet seat.

“Could you also run the bath?” he asks from the living room.

“Yeah!” I turn the knob and watch the water fill the tub as I add some muscle relaxing Epsom salt in as well, knowing it helps him relax even more after a long day at work. I head back to the living room, sit on the couch, and begin eating my tacos alone as he heads to the bathroom with his plate.

I guess making dinner didn’t help make a happier evening.

An hour later, the bathroom door opens, and he emerges wrapped in a towel, his skin flushed from the hot bath. I look up from my half-eaten taco on the couch.

“Feel better?” I ask, trying to keep my voice light.

He nods, running a hand through his damp hair. “Yeah, thanks. The bath helped.”

I watch as he moves to the kitchen, opening the fridge and peering inside. “Did you pick up any soda while you were out today?”

I feel a pang of guilt. “No, I’m sorry. I forgot.”

He sighs, closing the fridge door a bit harder than necessary. “It’s fine. I’ll pick some up tomorrow.”

The silence feels heavy. I want to say something to bridge the gap between us, but the words don’t come.

He places two more tacos on his plate. “I’m going to eat in bed and watch some TV.”

As the bedroom door closes behind him, I’m left alone in the living room.

The house is too quiet, despite Jeremy’s presence in the next room. I can hear the muffled sound of the TV through the wall.

My phone buzzes with a text from Lilly:

Lilly

Hey, how is everything?

I stare at the message, unsure how to respond.

Me

Jeremy’s tired. Watching TV in bed.

Lilly

Want to meet for coffee tomorrow? My treat.

It’s tempting, but I hesitate.

Me

Thanks, but I’ve got a lot to do around the house.

I reply, already regretting it.

Lilly

Okay, but don’t forget to take care of yourself too.

I should go to bed, curl up next to Jeremy, and pretend everything’s normal.

Instead, I find myself in my art room. My art supplies are in the closet, untouched for months. I pull out a sketchpad and pencils, their familiar weight both comforting and intimidating.

I settle at the desk and open to a blank page, taking a deep breath and begin to draw.

As I begin drawing, something inside me unwinds. The lines start shaky but grow more confident. I lose track of time, lost in creating. It’s past midnight when I look up. The sketch isn’t great - just the view from our kitchen window - but it’s something. A start.

I tiptoe to the bedroom, careful not to wake Jeremy. He’s sprawled across his side, one arm in the space where I should be. I slide under the covers, fitting against his warmth.