Page 62 of My Queendom for a Horse

Head bob.

“That would be great, if we can win. It’s right around a hundred and fifty just for the first place purse. Then, of course, if we bet and win. . .” I think about Obsidian leaving, and I know he has to, but the thought makes me really sad. “We’d be more than halfway there—to you helping me win back what I spent on you.” If I bet a decent amount, with two to one odds, I could get the other hundred grand.

Obsidian—er, Aleks—could leave on December twenty-seventh. That’s really soon.

“If we’re doing that chase in a few weeks,” I say, “we need to get you in top shape. That means training every day, almost.”

And we really need to figure out how to break this dumb curse so he doesn’t need me around.

But I’m afraid by the time we do, I’ll be the one who needs him. . .and I’ll be out of luck. So I’m relieved when an urgent farm call comes in and I have an excuse to leave. “I’ll change you later,” I promise.

By then, I’ll have some excuse to dart away. Because spending time with Aleks is only going to make it harder when he leaves.

13

For all her warnings and complaints, Anete’s lawyer gets our property split in under two weeks. The notice that the house and the old barn and nearly ten acres of pasture have been separated from the other nearly two thousand acres arrives ten days before Christmas.

“You’re really going to put it on the market?” Sean asks.

He drove up just as I was checking the mail. I had mentioned my plan, but I don’t think he really thought I’d go through with it. “I am.”

As if she could hear me, Anete messages me. LAWYER CALLED. HE SAID PAPERS ARE DONE. HIS COUSIN RUNS THE STAMPS OFFICE.

Well, that’s kind of gross, but it’s handy too, I guess. No wonder he did it fast. The next letter in the stack is the lawyer’s bill. Of course.

I TOOK PHOTOS LAST WEEK. ARE YOU READY FOR ME TO LIST IT?

“Actually,” I say. “The listing’s about to go live.”

“Whoa,” Sean says. “Are you serious?”

“The holdup on the land transfer was the bank, approving the note split, which they miraculously didn’t contest, probably because they can now foreclose on both properties, and they’d be easier to sell this way. And of course, the government moves notoriously slowly, unless you know someone.”

“Which it appears you do.”

“Well, my lawyer did,” I say. “I guess that’s the same thing.”

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Sean’s brow furrows. “You don’t have to. I’ll refinance the entire note—heck, I’ll refinance it, and then if you give me a few months of token payments I can just write it off.”

As appealing as it would be to wave a magic wand and make Dad’s debt disappear, that’s not how things work. Or, it’s not how things should work. You can’t just erase the bad things that happen and assume nothing will change.

Things always change, and I want to pay the price I know. Money’s always cheaper than intangibles.

“I really appreciate the offer,” I say. “But I think this is the only path that makes sense.”

Sean frowns, which only makes his classic good looks more striking. He really should have posed for professional photos at some point. I’d call his look Business Mogul Meets Cologne Ad Model.

Of course, it’s always the people who don’t need money at all that are gifted with the looks that could pay the bills. The rest of us who would love to be paid to smile are out of luck. No one wants to photograph my snaggle tooth and unruly hair.

“If you change your mind. . .”

Sean has been the perfect man to date since showing up out of the blue. Almost too perfect. He’s not overbearing or demanding. He comes whenever I have time. Other than business trips back to England—hardly avoidable since he lives and runs a bank there—he’s been very attentive as well.

It’s literally everything I wanted—ten years ago.

Once, when I was young, I remember telling my mom what I wanted for my birthday. “A cake, and a bowl of ice cream. A pudding. And a box of candy. And a soda.”

“Oh,” she said with a broad smile. “You want a stomachache for your birthday.”

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