Blanche's POV
Vincent grabbed his coat and headed toward the window, but suddenly froze mid-step.
He stood in the center of my bedroom, completely still.
For what felt like forever, he didn't budge.
I kept my eyes locked on him, refusing to look away, my heart quietly breaking.
Then Vincent turned around. He draped his coat over his shoulder, one finger hooked through the collar.
He was sober now, but that roguish appeal still made him devastatingly handsome.
"Your promises mean nothing. I'm done listening," Vincent said, his voice rough and rebellious.
If I ever actually kept my word, I wouldn't have broken every promise I'd made.
I was just a liar, and he wasn't going to fall for it anymore.
I listened to Vincent, feeling lost and wanting to say something more, but he'd already turned away.
But just as he reached the window, Vincent spun around, marched over to the bed, cupped my face in his hands, and pressed a fierce kiss to my forehead.
