“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 fuck 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 fucked. 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.”

I close my eyes while holding her arms. “We can’t.”

“I’ll take out a loan. I’ll do something.”

“Angie.” I sigh. “You can’t do any of that. Your apartment is a one bedroom in downtown Philly. You’re in as much debt as we are. The bakery isn’t making us any real money.”

With each ounce of truth that falls from my lips, there is a bit of knowledge of what’s going to happen that falls with it. The life I fought so hard to escape is going to become my reality again.

“You can’t go back to Tennessee. You can’t leave here.”

“Trust me, I’d rather cut off my arm than go back to Bell Buckle. I have maybe a month or two to figure out how to dig us out of the hole we’re in before I can’t find a way out.”

She nods. “We’ll figure it out. I can’t lose you, too.”

I sure as hell hope so, because if I can’t magically produce a large sum of money, the life I’ve known for the last eighteen years is about to become a distant memory.

“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Benson. At this time the bank isn’t able to offer any more extensions,” the slender woman explains to me again.

I’ve exhausted all my options. I was able to borrow some money to get one month caught up, but now we’re back to square one. There won’t be enough funds to make another payment. No more help is available.

“So, I have no other options?”

“I’m afraid not.”

My mind can’t process all that’s happening. I continue to suffer loss after loss. I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to find a way to make ends meet. I start to make progress, get one thing paid off, only to learn about a half dozen new credit cards that he took out in my name. Thanks to online accounts, all he needed was my social and date of birth. I’m legally responsible for all of it. It’s a never-ending nightmare that I can’t wake from.

I stand, grab my purse, and walk out without another word. Nothing I can say will change anything. My kids and I will be homeless, we’re broke, and we have no other option. I can’t get a loan with no income and ruined credit. And I don’t have time to explore other options.

Once I arrive back home, I look around feeling conflicted. I don’t want to leave, but I also don’t want to be here. The boys don’t understand why I sleep on the couch most nights. But being in that king-size bed reminds me that he left.

Slowly, I climb the stairs to my bedroom. I remove the pearl earrings, which Todd bought me on our wedding day, and clutch them in my hand, feeling the prick from the backs before I launch them across the room. “Damn you!” I scream as I grab the photo of us that sits on my dresser.