Say You'll Stay (Return to Me #1)(9)

“Sterling, Dodd, and March Investment,” Kyla’s sweet voice rings in my ear.

“Hi, Kyla.” I let out a shaky breath. “It’s Presley Benson. Is Jeff available?”

I haven’t had time to think about much, but I don’t remember seeing him at the funeral. It’s all a blur though, a horrible nightmare.

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear about Todd,” her concern floats through.

“Thank you,” I say on autopilot. I hear this so much that it’s lost its meaning. Sorry for what? Sorry that I’m in pain? Sorry that the boys are now without a father? Sorry that you didn’t see it coming? What exactly is everyone f*cking sorry for?

She clears her throat. “I wanted to call.”

“It’s fine,” I pacify her. “Is Jeff available?”

“Umm, he’s . . . he isn’t . . . well,” she stutters. “He’s actually out of the office.”

“Okay,” I say with confusion. “Are any of Todd’s supervisors there? I’m trying to get some information about his paychecks.”

Todd handled all our bills. There wasn’t a need for me to worry because he was an investor. It made sense for him to control the finances.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Benson.” Her voice drops. “Todd hasn’t worked here in a while. He received his last paycheck months ago.”

“What?”

“I don’t . . . I can put you through to payroll, but I don’t know what they’ll say.”

“I don’t understand. He went to work the day he died.”

“Let me put you through to Jeff’s voicemail,” she replies quickly.

Before I can say anything, I hear Jeff’s voice and then a beep. “Jeff, it’s Presley. I need you to call me. I’m . . . just call.” I hang up the phone and sit here stunned.

He lost his job? Did he change companies and that was why we were late? What the f*ck is going on? I can’t take much more. There’s no money coming in from anywhere, and I have to pay bills that I didn’t know we had. I have to worry about food and how we’re going to keep a roof over our heads.

Oh, my God. The house.

I grab the phone and call the lender.

“How far behind are we on the mortgage?” I ask. I close my eyes and pray he’s paid at least this one.

“The house is set to go into foreclosure this week.”

I grab my throat as I struggle to inhale. How could he do this to us? It’s one blow after another. He lied all this time. Anger takes hold and my fingers shake. This man was supposed to be my rock, and this is what he does? He spends months living some alternate life? I stand and begin to pace.

“But—” I close my eyes and let out a breath. “I have two small kids, my husband has passed away, and I’m afraid I don’t have any way to pay all of the outstanding amount.” I’m breaking apart as the reality of my financial situation unravels.

“I understand, ma’am.” Her voice is full of sympathy I don’t want. “I can put you through to my supervisor, but there’s not much we can do unless we can get at least four months caught up.”

“Please,” I beg. “I can’t lose this house.”

I go over everything again with the supervisor. She’s able to give me another month, but I need to come up with a lot of money.

There’s no way it can happen.

Even if I were to get lucky enough to find a job, I won’t make that much money. I don’t know anyone that pays a twelve-years-out-of-work stay-at-home mother with a little baking experience great money.

After getting off the call, I text Angie and ask her to come over. This is a disaster.

My world implodes again.

I’m screwed. And alone.

I hear the door open ten minutes later.

“I’m in the kitchen,” I call out.

“Hey, what’s up?” Angie asks.

I go over what the insurance agent said. Her jaw falls slack as I tell her our conversation. I feel the ground beneath me caving in, and my hopes drain like the sand in an hourglass. Time is running out, just like our money.

“Did you call the bank?”

“Yeah,” I say with rage flowing through my veins. “It seems that Todd hasn’t paid the mortgage in four months. Did you know he doesn’t work for Sterling anymore?” I ask, hoping maybe she knew and I’m suffering from amnesia.

“No, he was there last week. He called me from the office to see if we could have lunch.”

“What?” I ask completely lost. “I don’t get it. Kyla said that he hasn’t worked there in a while. What the hell is going on?” I start to shake.

“I don’t know, Pres. I don’t know what to think.”

That makes two of us. “We’re completely maxed out on all our credit cards, and the bank is already starting the foreclosure process.”

“Oh, my God.”

“He lied to me. He told me we were fine. He went to work every day for Christ’s sake! I’m f*cked. I can’t afford this house. I can’t even pay the utilities.”

She steps forward and grips my shoulders. I can see the fear splayed across her face. “You can live with me. You and the boys come live at the apartment.”