Page 47 of Theirs to Treasure

It’s become my morning hangout before I venture out on a hiking trail.

Once I’ve ordered my favorite, a tall, dark Mexi-mocha coffee, I find a table in the corner and take out my laptop and open an in-private browsing session like I do every day.

When the barista brings me my heavenly drink made with dark cocoa powder, nutmeg, and other secret spices that are amped up by ancho and cayenne peppers, I smile my appreciation.

Because I’m getting close to the date I have to vacate my apartment, I send the property management company a message, asking if they have any other units available.

The manager jumps on a chat with me, expressing her confusion.

My rent has been paid for the next six months, and I don’t have to move.

My hand shakes, and the coffee nearly sloshes over the rim of the cup.

Forrest.

There’s no other possibility.

Edward wouldn’t have thought to do something like that, and my mother is so obsessed with herself that it wouldn’t have occurred to her either.

I remember the first time I’d seen Forrest naked and my impression that he was powerful enough to break a man in half.

Had he done just that?

After all, he’d left me and Zev that night at the Royal Sterling, and the next morning, all my belongings had been returned.

Though I hate his high-handedness, I have to admit he’s made my life easier, at least temporarily.

I still need a job.

After a sip of the creamy drink, I send emails to a few friends who are excellent at networking, and then I reach out to my old boss.

Though my job has been filled, she suggests I contact a local art gallery who is looking for a salesperson.

It’s not my expertise, but I did take a couple of classes in school that might be relevant.

My former employer assures me that hustling and customer service are more important than theoretical knowledge. As long as I’m willing to learn about the artists they’re featuring, she’s convinced I could make a lot of money from commissions.

She promises to put in a good word for me, and I send over my resume.

Feeling satisfied and somewhat more in control of my life, I finish my coffee before succumbing to the urge to see what’s going on with my family.

Since I’ve kept my phone off, I have no idea if anyone has called.

There have been a couple of emails from friends, but nothing from my mother or sister.

Opening another in-private session, I do a quick internet search.

Surprisingly there are no results that mention my broken engagement or the wedding that never happened.

How much money did it cost Edward to keep it out of the press?

And how had he done it?

I check my sister’s social media. She posted a picture of herself at a party last night, but when I scroll back, everything from the previous weekend and our couple of days in Las Vegas—including the rehearsal dinner—is gone.

It’s as if the whole wedding fiasco never happened.

Stunned, I close the lid of my computer once again and sit back to enjoy the rest of my beverage.