Page 78 of P.S. It’s Always Been You
* * *
I shall see you on Valentine’s Day, and you’d better be prepared too. I’ll be kissing you for days.
* * *
Always,
Greta
38
Presley
“What do you think? You could travel around the country. We already have some great houses lined up. Some wonderful estates with fantastic collections,” Daniel says, his voice filled with sapphires, rubies, diamonds.
What do I think?
I think so many things. Too many things.
I gulp. “I think it’s amazing.”
But if it’s amazing, why, then, does it feel like my heart is cracking?
This isn’t how you feel when you land your true desire.
My hands are clammy; my throat is tight. That makes no sense, because I want this so damn badly.
But I want something else too.
I want that man, and if I take this job, I won’t be able to see him much, if at all.
“Would you be able to start in two weeks?”
He needs to know now? I have to stall. “Would I be home at all?” I ask, keeping my voice even so I don’t give myself away.
“You’d mostly be on the road.”
God, it sounds like a dream. Like an incredible, incandescent dream. I’d be a fool to turn it down for a weekend here or there. Wouldn’t I?
“It sounds incredible,” I say, buying time to think.
Hunter wants me to take it. He wants me to have this.
I should be over the moon. But I can’t shake the feeling that I’m making the wrong choice.
“Daniel, can I—”
A voice cuts in. “Presley.”
It’s Hunter, and the knot in my chest loosens just seeing his face. He sets a hand on my elbow, directing his words to my boss. “I hate to do this, Daniel, but can I steal her away for just a few minutes? I swear I’ll give her back to you. Pretty please?”
Ever the charmer.
“Of course.”
He’s a knight on a white horse—I need saving from having to give an answer, so I’m glad to see him ride in on his steed.
He tugs me down a quiet hallway, his steps urgent. “I found the letters,” he whispers.
“What?” My voice shoots up ten octaves.
“They were in a compass in Vik’s jacket.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. But read them with me.”
There’s nothing I’d rather do.
39
February 1923
* * *
My Dear Claudia,
* * *
I am coming home!!! I will see you in a few days. I won’t even send this letter. I will hand it to you. But I want to tell you the story.
* * *
On Valentine’s Day, I performed as the Woman in Red. Baron threw his knives at me. It was the hardest performance ever, because I was counting the seconds until it was all over, and I feared I would slip, move a millimeter, wobble.
* * *
All I could think was how once the show ended, my life would change. Our lives would change.
* * *
As long as everything went according to plan.
* * *
When he finished the act and that night’s show, Baron left with Jack Caribaldi, having arranged to discuss business matters and potentially buy some of his circus. (Wait till you meet Jack! He is just your type.)
* * *
We didn’t have a moment to spare.
* * *
Not a single second.
* * *
I raced to my trailer, grabbed my bag, turned around.
* * *
And there he was.
* * *
My love.
* * *
The love of my life.
* * *
A few years older, a few years wiser, but still the same. Brown eyes, dark hair, and a heart that beat for me.
* * *
I gasped, and he gathered me in his arms. One quick kiss was all he allowed me. One wondrous kiss that turned my knees weak.
* * *
There was no time for weak knees. He took my bag, and I shut the door. Only when I was down the steps did I realize I was missing something.
* * *
My bracelet from our brother.
* * *
Baron had it, the only thing I have from our brother. I told Edward. He drew a deep breath, glanced around, and then rushed me to Baron’s trailer, but it was locked. Edward grabbed his knife, picked the lock with the blade, and whispered, “Go.”
* * *
I rushed in, snatched the bracelet from Baron’s bureau, then flew out of there.
* * *
I grabbed everyone. All my friends, all my fellow performers who’d been trapped.
* * *
Beanie and Tommy. Millie and Jo. George and William and Davey.
* * *
And we ran. We ran through the night, down a dark street, along a hidden path. We ran to the train depot, and we piled into a car, and my heart didn’t stop beating at a rabbit’s pace until the locomotive rang its bell and we chugged out of the station, heading toward freedom.
* * *
What’s freedom, you say?
* * *
Freedom is when the man you love pays off your family’s debt so you’re no longer beholden to someone like Baron.
