Chapter 39
“Ihave good news.”
When I saw my divorce attorney’s name on my caller ID, I became instantly nervous, but her positive tone is alleviating some of my anxiety.
“What kind of good news?” I cross my fingers.
“I just received a call from your husband’s attorney. He’s not going to contest the divorce.”
My eyes widen. “Seriously?”
“There is one condition.” Now her tone is more ominous. Great. I can’t wait to hear what Sebastian wants.
“And what would that condition be?”
“You need to sign an agreement swearing you will not release any details regarding your husband’s affair.”
“Done.”
Melissa sighs audibly. “Presley, that’s not all. The agreement also covers what you learned about Sebastian’s... character during your marriage.”
I frown. “Meaning what exactly?”
“You cannot tell anyone about the abuse, which means you can’t file for an order of protection. You can’t press charges. Ever. If you do, Sebastian will have every right to sue for damages, which could be significant.”
“Done.”
“Presley, thin?—”
“I said, done, Melissa. I appreciate your concern, but I don’t want anyone to know what I went through, especially not the public. I just want this to be over as quickly as possible. My family already knows what an asshole Sebastian is, so he’d have to deal with that. But they would never say anything if I asked them not to.”
She’s silent for a moment. “Okay, I’ll respond, telling them we accept their terms. Depending on how backlogged the courts are, things should be final in sixty to ninety days.”
I can handle three months. After that, I’ll be a free woman, and I’ll never have to think about Sebastian again.
“Thank you, Melissa.”
“It’s my pleasure, Presley. I’ll be in touch about the paperwork.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to you then.”
I hang up the phone and let out a heavy sigh. I don’t even realize I’m crying until I hear my mama’s voice.
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
My eyes slide to her. “I’m not crying because I’m upset. I’m... relieved. Sebastian isn’t going to contest the divorce. I’ll officially be a free woman in sixty to ninety days.”
“Oh, honey, I’m so glad to hear that.” She takes a seat next to me on the couch and grabs hold of my hand. “Speaking of bein’ a free woman... I told myself I wouldn’t pry, but your daddy mentioned you were at Beckett’s house the other mornin’... and you didn’t come home again last night.” She gives me a knowing smile.
Ugh, why is this so uncomfortable? I’m thirty years old, for Christ’s sake. I should be able to talk about sex without blushing.
I raise my eyebrows. “What are you asking?”
“Does that mean you two have reconciled?”
“I think it means we’re trying. Ideally, I’d like to keep quiet about it until the dust settles with Sebastian, but I know people ‘round here are already talkin’. They think it’s too soon or?—”
My mom wraps her arms around me and pulls me into a hug. “Never mind those squawking birds, Presley. You and Beckett deserve happiness, and if you have it because you’ve found your way back to each other, it’s nobody’s business but yours.”
“It feels almost too good to be true, you know? One second I’m convinced I’m doing the right thing, and everything will work out, and in the next, I’m questioning everything. I’m trying not to be so negative, but I’ve been living in this state of heightened anxiety and doubt for so long, I can’t seem to stop myself from falling into old habits. I’ve made lots of bad decisions throughout my adult life, Mama. Awful, terrible decisions. What if jumping into a relationship with Beckett so fast is another one?”
“Presley, I’ve said this to you once before, but I think it bears repeating. You and Beckett have a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love. There’s a reason why it’s not called twice-in-a-lifetime. You and that boy feed each other’s souls; you always have. How can you go wrong with that, especially when you’re both nursing so much pain? I think finding your way into each other’s arms again is God’s way of makin’ things right. It’s his way of nourishing your minds and your hearts back to health.”
“Mama, you know I don’t believe in God anymore. How could I?”
She pushes some hair away from my face. “That’s okay, baby, because I believe enough for both of us. I’ve been prayin’ this day would come, and it has. I’m sorry y’all had to go through so many trials and tribulations, but you and Beckett are back where you’re supposed to be, surrounded by people who love you. The rest will fall into place.”
“But what exactly is ‘the rest’? I don’t know what I want to do with my life. I went from living here, to my dorm, to a penthouse with Sebastian, and now back here again. I love this ranch, and I appreciate you and Dad welcoming me back after I behaved so poorly, but at the same time, being here feels like I’m going backward. I don’t know what independence feels like. I don’t want to be this weak, scared woman anymore, and I feel like I’m never going to get out of that holding pattern until I branch out on my own. Don’t you think at this point in my life, I should know what it’s like to not be so dependent on other people?”
My mom shakes her head. “I can’t answer that for you, Presley.”
“I’ve been thinking about renting a place of my own, maybe one of those new apartments right outside of town. I have enough money left from selling my rings to pay for at least a few months of expenses and maybe an older used car.” I give her a soft smile. “Beck said he could use some help with riding lessons, so with that and what I’d be makin’ at the bar, I think I could manage it.”
The more I think about it, the more convinced I am it’s the right thing to do. It’d give me balance. I’d still be here a lot, I’d be around the horses, but I’d also have my own place to go home to at night. I’d know what it’s like to support myself.
“Sweetheart, if this is something you feel you need to do, then I’d say do it. But may I suggest an alternative to the apartments?”
I nod.
“Do you remember Daryl and Eloise Wilson? Well, they have a small cottage at the back end of their property that they rent out. It’s newly vacant, and I believe they’re still looking for someone to lease the place. It’s fully furnished, and it’d be much nicer than livin’ in an apartment building with thin walls.”
The Wilsons live about five miles from here. I never told my mother this, but Beck and I were looking into renting that cottage once we graduated high school. It’s tiny, but the main house is on the opposite end of their twenty-acre property, so privacy wouldn’t have been an issue. Beck and I loved it. It would’ve been perfect for the three of us.
God, the baby.
I haven’t thought about that in a while. I rub at the sudden tightness in my chest. Who would’ve thought after all these years, my grief would still cause physical pain? Maybe if I saw a therapist back then, it wouldn’t be so bad, but who knows? I can’t imagine not feeling this ache in my heart when I think about our child. I don’t understand why in this day and age, but there seems to be a stigma with a miscarriage that says you should suffer your loss in silence. Hell, I felt that way at first, too. But over time, I’ve learned that it doesn’t matter if you were eight weeks into gestation or eight months. When you experience a loss like that, it’s not just about the life itself. It’s about the utter sense of failure you feel. The constant guilt, thinking you did something wrong that caused it or didn’t do enough to prevent it. It’s all the hopes and dreams and possibilities that will never have a chance to come to fruition.
“Pres, honey, are you okay?”
I clear my throat. “Yeah. Sorry, I spaced out. Do you have their number?”
“I do. I’ll tell Eloise to expect your call.” My mom looks at me thoughtfully. “Did Beckett tell you about the new lodge yet? Or the program we’re startin’?”
I nod. “He did. I think it’s amazing you guys are doing that.”
“Maybe he could use your help there, too.”
I shrug. “Maybe.”
I need to get my own head sorted out before I try helping anyone else fix their problems. My phone buzzes from its place beside me. When I look down, I have an incoming text from Beckett. When my mom sees his name on my phone screen, she winks and silently excuses herself.
Beckett: Don’t make plans tonight.
I smile as my thumbs type a reply.
Me: What if I already did?
Beckett: Cancel them because you have plans with me now.
Me: Awfully presumptuous, don’t you think? What if I don’t want to have plans with you?
Beckett: Trust me, honey. You WANT what I have planned for you.
Me: If these plans have anything to do with a certain underwhelming appendage of yours, I’ll pass.????
Beckett: You and I both know there’s NOTHING underwhelming about me, Pres. And now you’ll be getting a few extra reminders tonight. ????????
Just like that, after a few flirty texts, my mood is lifted. I don’t know how he does it.
Me: Let’s pretend I’m on board with this plan of yours. What should I wear and what time should I be ready?
Beckett: Dress comfortably. I’ll see you at eight. ??
Me: Yee-haw, Cowboy. ??
Beckett: ??
I laugh.
Me: Love you, too, babe.
I gasp when I realize what I just did. Holy crap! I didn’t mean to just blurt it out like that, especially not in a text. Gah! Why am I so awkward? A grown-ass woman should not have these issues. I groan when I see the text bubbles pop up and disappear. And pop up and disappear again. Finally, when Beck’s message comes through, the pressure is lifted off my chest.
Beckett: I love you, Pres. Always have. Always will.
I smile down at my phone as I read his message a few more times. There may be a lot of things up in the air for me right now, but there is one thing I’m absolutely certain of.
Beckett Armstrong is still one swoony bastard.