Page 92 of Between Now and Forever

I look at her sharply. Who is this girl? I thought she was a German student working here to save money.

She glances down the hall in both directions and then pulls something out of her pocket and holds it hidden against her side.

“I got you something. If you get caught with it, I will turn on you to save myself. It’s not personal, but I have people relying on me, and I cannot put them at risk for you. But I want to help. Okay?”

I nod. Respect and gratitude overwhelm me and I hug her. She hugs me back briefly and slips what is clearly a phone in the skirt’s pocket and then disengages.

“Come on. Let’s not keep them waiting.” We start down the hall.

“It doesn’t have a call plan, just Wi-Fi, okay? You can send an email, maybe?”

I wipe my hands down my skirt. I just have to survive this little tete-a-tete and then I’ll be back in my room and able to message Carter.

Mr. Westfall, as he introduces himself, reminds me of a high school English teacher: middle-aged, balding, and dour. He frowns critically when I step into the blue walled library. He approaches, stride sure and brings with him the faint but distinct scent of licorice.

He walks a circle around me peering at me like I’m a used car and he’s searching for any damage that this new coat of paint might be trying to conceal. When his eyes linger on my face, I wonder if he’s been made aware of my birthmark.

I keep my eyes trained on my shoes and wait for him to finish.

I let out a small sigh when he steps away. I hazard a glance at him. His face is soft and jowly, with thin lips and an oily nose. His water hazel eyes are still fixed on me and he gives me a smile that is so self-satisfied, that I have to look away.

“Sit,” he grunts and points at the settee in front of the window.

There’s no warmth in his regard. No appreciation for the package I present. Good. Maybe he doesn’t like me and we can get through this meeting fast. I pat the pocket where the phone is resting and remember what’s at stake.

“So, tell me about yourself, Mr. Westfall.”

He sits next to me and runs a hand down my arm.

I shift away.

“What’s your first name?”

He sits back in his chair slightly like he’s surprised I spoke. He adjusts his tie and straightens a bit.

“You may call me West. Do you have any other questions you’d like to ask me?”

I shake my head, no.

I know everything I need to.

“Good. I don’t like a woman who talks too much. Your father has informed me about your lack of intelligence and tendency to embrace fanciful notions.”

I can’t help but flinch as he speaks of me as casually as he would the weather.

In the corner of my vision, I see a picture of James in a frame on the small table. I turn away. What would he say if he saw me sitting here like this?

Trussed up like a turkey and walking toward the chopping block of my own free will.

I don’t have a choice. I need to play along to survive.

“Even when there’s a gun to your head, you still have a choice.”The words in James's birthday card come back to me in a rush. And it’s a switch flipping.

What am I doing?

Is this my choice? To pretend for even a minute that this man would ever be someone I chose as a husband.

I slide my eyes to him.

---