You can say that again.
“Can I ask you something?”
Mia nods.
“Why are you helping me?”
“Because I’ve been there, honey. I was with a horrible man for too long. When I saw the way your husband was standin’ over you just now, I knew somethin’ wasn’t right. It felt like I went back in time for a second there.” Mia’s gesticulating wildly, and her New York accent is becoming more pronounced the longer she talks.
“How’d you get away?” My voice is so quiet, I’m not sure if she hears me.
She shrugs. “I stuffed my damn pride aside and asked for help.”
I wonder if that’s even an option for me. After all this time, would my family welcome me back home? I know I broke my parents’ hearts when I told them I didn’t want them to visit. I cringe when I recall the conversation where I implied they would embarrass me in front of my high-society friends. Little did they know, those friends were imaginary. Every time they asked me to come to Georgia, I had one excuse after another, acting as if my new life kept me so busy, I couldn’t possibly leave the city. Finally, when Sebastian was elected the mayor of New York City, they stopped asking. Since my wedding day, I haven’t seen my parents or my brother, which hurts me so much because we used to be so close. We still talk on the phone, but our conversations are brief, mostly on holidays, and always awkward. I blink back tears when it hits me how badly I miss them.
I sniffle. “Okay.”
Her brown eyes widen. “Really?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Okay.” Mia stands up. “I’ll be back in two minutes tops with those clothes.”
Ten minutes later, I’m dressed in an oversized Giants hoodie and jeans with a ball cap, and I’m sliding into the back seat of cousin Joey’s Prius. Mia was kind enough to give me her sunglasses to hide my swollen eye better.
“Good luck, Presley.”
“Thank you. For everything.” I pull the door closed, giving her a little wave through the window.
As the car pulls away from the curb, I take a deep breath to steady myself. Any minute now, Sebastian will know I’m gone, and once that happens, there’ll be no turning back.
Chapter Three
Presley
– Age 8
“The fish aren’t bitin’, Beck. We should go visit the new foals.”
“Try casting out a little farther,” he suggests.
I do as he says and flick my fishin’ rod off to the side, casting the fly halfway across the width of the pond.
I smile. “Like that?”
Beck nods. “Yeah. My dad says the fish bite better in the middle.”
I like fishin’ with Beck. Sometimes, we come here to sit on the dock and dip our toes in the water. Other times, like today, we try catchin’ some fish.
“Hey, Beck?”
“Yeah?”
“Whatcha wanna be when you grow up?”
Beck recasts his line, too. His fly doesn’t get as far as mine did, but I don’t rub it in because my mommy says that’s not nice. “That’s easy. I’m gonna be a rancher like my dad.”
“On a horse ranch like ours?”
“Maybe.” He takes a moment to think about it. “Or cattle. I really like the horses, though. I think it’d be cool to work with ‘em. My dad says he’ll let me help with the birthin’ next summer.”
I scrunch my nose up. “Birthin’ is messy.”
Beck shrugs. “I don’t mind.”
“Well, I’m gonna be a famous actress.”
“That’s cool. You sure are pretty enough to be in the movies.”
Beck always says nice things to me. “Mama says I can’t stay in Hope if I want to be in movies or on the TV. She said I’d have to move to a big city like Hollywood or New York. I told her I don’t mind ‘cuz I think livin’ in a big city would be fun. You could come with me, too. I bet we’d have lots of fun in the city.”
Beck’s eyebrows pull together. “I like living in Hope.”
“Me too, but I wanna see the whole world.”
“I bet you’ll be super famous, Pres.”
I smile. “I can’t wait to be a grown-up. You just wait and see, Beckett Armstrong. I’ll be a big movie star and make lots of money so I can buy a big ol’ piece of land like this and tons of horses. You can be the rancher and take care of ‘em. Then, you and me can get married.”
Beck holds my hand, ‘cuz we do that sometimes. “Okay.”
Chapter Four
Presley
“Here we are.” My driver shifts the car into park.
He took me to a pawnbroker in the Bronx. I’ve never been to a place like this before—I’m not really sure how this is supposed to work.
Joey seems to sense my hesitancy, so he adds, “Just go in there and ask for Sal. Tell him Joey P sent you.”
I grab the handle to open my door, but before I exit the car, I ask, “Hey, I don’t suppose you’d mind waiting for me, would you? I’d be happy to compensate you after... well, if he gives me any money.”
“Sure thing.”
“Thank you.”
When I step inside the store, I’m surrounded by a mish-mash of items: guitars, bikes, various electronics and sports memorabilia, power tools, etcetera. Taking up the most real estate is a long glass counter filled with assorted jewelry. Geez, I’ve never seen so much stuff in such a small space before. It almost feels like I’m on an episode of Hoarders.
“You lookin’ for something in particular?”
Behind the counter stands a fifty-something man with a big, bushy mustache. Since he seems to be the only person around, I’m guessing he’s the one who spoke.
“Uh... I’m looking for Sal. Joey P sent me.”
The man gives me a warm smile, the gap between his front teeth somehow making it more enchanting. I’m so used to being surrounded by people obsessed with perfection; it’s nice to see someone real for once.
“Well, you’ve got him. Any friend of Joey’s is a friend of mine. What can I do for you?” When I lift my head, Sal’s brown eyes widen as he gets a good look at my face beneath the brim of my borrowed hat. “Whoa. You look like you’ve had better days. Shit. That was insensitive. How can I help you?”
I twist the bands on my finger, trying to focus on anything other than the pity in his eyes. “I have these rings, and... I... uh... I’d like to sell them.”
“C’mon over, let me have a look.” Sal motions me over as he grabs a diamond loupe from a drawer behind him and places it on the counter. He whistles when I drop the rings in his hand. “These real diamonds?” He places my engagement ring—the one with the largest stone—under the lens, not waiting for an answer. “Yep, they sure are. Damn, this is a quality piece. Flawless, if I’m not mistaken. A diamond this size has to retail for at least a hundred-K.”
I fidget while Sal takes his time inspecting each ring thoroughly. When he’s done, he places them on a little velvet-lined tray and looks up. “I gotta be honest with you; there’s no way I can give you even a fraction of what these babies are worth. I just don’t have that kind of cash flow. Have you considered trying to sell them privately?”