in my throat. My eyes sunk down to the square-cut diamond on my ring finger.
Out of all my engagement rings, this one was certainly the nicest.
Maybe that was how I should’ve known the man attached to it would be the worst.
But when I met Jimmy Reed, he seemed to be the best. New to town. A lawyer trying to escape the busy life in Mobile. Looking to settle down but with the means and desire to explore the world a little.
I remember finally feeling as though this was it—as though he was the one.
It was a little quick when he proposed six months later, especially knowing my history—the details I outlined on our second date before the gossip mill of Chicktown got to him first.
But, he swore there was no rush for the wedding. He just wanted to put a ring on my finger so that until I was ready, the world would know I was taken.
I thought it was sweet.
It was sweet.
Until fifteen months later and we still weren’t married.
The questions started a few months ago, here and there. The look in his eyes. The little pushes, asking me what flowers I would want and what my favorite flavor of cake was. My momma reminding me how good I looked in white.
I answered to appease them, knowing nothing was set in stone, and then last night, I told him I didn’t even feel like going to this wedding today. It was some cousin I’d never even met, what was the point?
It seemed like a harmless suggestion which was why it was shocking when it set him off. And our argument drifted back to the heart of the issue which wasn’t this random wedding but our own.
We’d argued before. I’d seen him angry before. But not like this.
“It’s been over a year, Dix. It’s time to grow up. It’s time for us to get married,” he snarled.
I’d tried to pinpoint a better reason for why I hesitated to walk down the aisle—better than the weight of wondering if it was a sign that marriage wasn’t for me—if it was a sign that there was something wrong with me. After Ben, I wanted to bring my own worth to the table—a worth that had taken a hit by my cheating second ex. Now, it still felt like I was searching for myself and who I was outside of this town and my reputation in it.
“Grow up? Maybe it’s time I grow up and give you back your ring then if you can’t respect that I need time,” I threatened, hurt and angry at his words.
I shuddered at the memory as my hand rose to my cheek.
I was prepared for the argument over this; they’d been occurring more often as of late. But the hard smack across my cheek was the last thing I expected. I even saw him winding up for it and just stood there in complete denial that Jimmy was about to hit me.
But when I found myself on the floor the next minute, I realized he had.
I realized I’d just been hit by my fiancé—the man who was supposed to love and respect me.
Of course, he immediately apologized. He begged forgiveness. He pleaded. He even cried a little and then told me to go stay at my parents’ for the night if I felt more comfortable.
But he’d still hit me.
Nothing would change that.
“Dixie!” My mother huffed from the doorway, standing in a lavender dress I’d never seen before. “It’s time to go! Jimmy will meet us there.”
I nodded and stood.
I didn’t know what I was going to do about Jimmy—about us. And I didn’t know how to tell my momma that he’d been abusive—not when I was still processing it.
So, I covered up my bruised face and pride, slapped one of those sweet-tea smiles on my face, and hoped I’d figure out what the hell was happening to my life, and what I was supposed to do about it before it was too late.
“Are we late?” I wondered as my mom pulled in to the parking lot.
There was no one else walking into the church. No one else getting out of their cars. It was like a UFO had come and sucked up all signs of life.
“Momma?” I turned to her when she didn’t reply.
“We aren’t late,” she replied and though it was the answer to my question, I felt like I was missing something. “Okay, maybe just a smidge.”
Stepping out of the car, I used the window