“Well, if the Manolo Blahnik leather slingback fits,” I reply with a shrug.
She sighs, glancing around the small office as she shifts her Kelly onto her arm. “I need your word it ends here. I need to know you won’t retaliate against Troy.”
I purse my lips, glancing down at my phone on the desk. No message from Ryan yet. Right now, he’s in Cincinnati going to the PFH office, pressing Troy to sign the papers. My window is closing. If ever I wanted to claim something from Bea Owens, now is my chance.
I square my shoulders at her, hands on my hips. “On the phone, I told you I had a plan for how we all walk away clean. You didn’t believe me. You sided with Troy. And now you’re implicated in his legal malpractice.”
“Tess—”
I raise a hand to silence her. “Let’s not beat around the bush here. All I have to do is say the word, and my lawyer will come down on you both. I’m the one with the leverage now, not you.”
“So, what do you want, Tess?” she says, her words clipped. “How do I make this stop here?”
“You both need to agree to go to therapy,” I say without missing a beat.
Her eyes go wide. “Therapy?”
“Troy needs intervention, Bea. He needs help that you can’t give him. And you need help too. Because the way you love him is hurting him. He needs to be held accountable for his actions. Set boundaries. Enact consequences. A therapist can give you the tools to better engage with him. He needs you, Bea. You’re the only person I think he truly cares about. Help him.”
“So…what? We go to therapy and send you proof of our sessions?”
I nod. “Yeah—well, no. Don’t send the proof to me. After today, I want no contact with either of you. Send it to my lawyer. Biweekly sessions for the next year. Go, learn tools for managing a healthier relationship with your son.”
She arches a brow. “And if I say no?”
“Then I press charges.”
Her frown deepens as her lips purse. “And if I can’t convince him to go as well?”
“Then I press charges,” I repeat. “See? Boundaries and consequences.”
She considers for a moment. “Fine. Consider it done. Anything else?”
I smile, my eyes locked on the framed sea turtle poster behind her head. “Yeah…make a donation to Out of the Net.” I let my gaze slide back to her, soaking in her surprised face. “And whatever the number is in your head right now, double it.”
“Sea turtles?” She gives a sad little shake of her head. “I can see your time with me has truly taught you nothing. You have a knife to my throat, and your only demand is that I go to therapy and donate to this nonprofit?”
Her words settle deep in my chest, and I realize she’s right. Thirteen years in her shadow, and I survived. I’m still me. I wouldn’t say she taught me nothing, but her lessons have left only scars. I will heal. I am healing.
I beam at her, my heart feeling ten times lighter. “Yep. Make the donation, make it truly outrageous, and I’ll even issue a joint statement with Troy that you can share with all your friends and associates. We’ll say we parted in friendship and that our families remain close as I move on to pursue new philanthropic endeavors.”
She considers. “And the fallout? The press?”
“You can tell everyone about the donation,” I reply. “PFH gets the tax break and all the good press, while you avoid the harsh spotlight of a contested divorce. Most importantly for you, Troy avoids disbarment and criminal charges.”
“These are all things we get,” she says, that eyebrow arching in question. “What do you get, Tess?”
I glance down at the signed divorce papers. “I get to be free.” Slowly, I look back up at her, meeting her eyes. “And I get to never see you again.”
67
“Wait…so that’s it? You’re just…letting him off the hook?” Rachel stands in the surf, her hands tucked in the pockets of her polar fleece.
Poppy stands at her side. Her long blonde ponytail is pulled through the back of her Rays hat. They’re both looking at me like I’ve got snakes for hair.
“Yeah, that’s it,” I reply, taking a sip of my hot chocolate. The February air carries a chill this morning, biting at my fingertips as I raise the travel mug to my lips. We pretty much have this stretch of beach all to ourselves.
“And you’re…okay with that?” Shelby presses from Poppy’s other side. She’s the one who brought us the hot chocolates. Our guys are all still in Cincinnati, helping Ryan pack up the rest of my apartment. They fly back this afternoon.
“I am,” I reply with a nod, and I know in my heart that I mean it.
The girls eye me warily, saying nothing as we continue our walk in the surf.
“Look, I could press charges,” I explain. “I could take Troy to court for the stalking, the harassment. I could air every single piece of dirty laundry we shared over the last decade. But Troy would give as good as he gets. He would drag out every minute of it. He and his mother would try to bury me in delays and legal fees and counter claims. Don’t you see? Fighting him in court is just another way I let him win. I’m done letting him take up my time, my joy. He’s taken enough from me. They both have. Please, tell me you can understand,” I say, reaching for Rachel’s arm.
She pauses, slipping her hand out again to take mine. “Oh, honey, I do,” she says, her tone earnest. “I promise, I do. I mean, if it were up to me, I’d go total Game of Thrones on his ass. He hurt you, Tess. He hurt my friend. If I had my way, he’d be torn apart by a dragon’s talons.”
“Or a pack of wild dogs,” Poppy adds.
“Hey, what’s the myth with the man who has his insides eaten every day by a vulture?” asks Shelby.
“Prometheus,” Poppy replies. “And it wasn’t a vulture, it was an eagle.”
I give them a gentle smile. “I don’t know if I can find an eagle to commit to eating his insides every day. That seems like more work than finding a fair judge and jury.”
“But you want to find a judge and jury?” Rachel nudges. “You want to press charges?”
“No,” I admit, giving her my truth. “I’m sorry, but I don’t.”
“Oh, Tess, don’t apologize to me,” Rachel says, taking my hand again. “I just want you to be sure. I want you to weigh all your options and make the best choice for you. And I want you to know you have choices. Because if it’s a matter of paying legal fees or you needing to hire a legal team, you know we would—”
“I know,” I say, squeezing her hand. “I know you’d help me without question. I know you’d give me a kidney if I needed it.”
She smiles. “Let’s hope that doesn’t become necessary anytime soon, but yes, I would. At this point, I’ll have to fight Jake for the honor,” she adds with a laugh. “He’s very determined to protect you and make you feel like a Price.”
“I may not have a kidney to offer, but you have my support,” says Shelby from my other side. “Whatever you decide, whatever feels right to you, we’re here, Tess. And just because a court isn’t involved, it doesn’t mean there’s no justice.”
“What do you mean?” asks Poppy.
“Well, in my experience, justice looks different to each person,” Shelby explains. “For some, justice only comes when they see their abuser behind bars. Others feel justified when their abuser admits to their crimes and seeks forgiveness.”
“Troy will never admit he’s at fault. Turtles will fly before he ever apologizes to me,” I say. “But maybe the therapy will be enlightening. If not for him, I think Bea isn’t beyond reaching. And she holds massive sway in his life. I really think she can help him.”
Shelby gives me a sympathetic nod. “In that case, perhaps the sweetest form of justice comes from you boldly moving on. Leave them to each other. We survive, we thrive, and we never give them power over us again.”
It’s my turn to pause, holding her gentle gaze. I’ve never mentioned what she admitted to me in the garage. Not to Rachel, not to anyone. Shelby may be a child psychologist who deals with cases like mine in a professional capacity, but she and I both know her experience runs deeper. She bears her own scars.