Page 24 of The Betrothal

“It’s that or nothing. Another payment will be required.”

I looked up. Ben was studiously buttering toast, seemingly uninterested, but I lowered my voice to a whisper, nowhere more private to take the call.

“I can pay. Just, please, there’s nothing I could have done. Please don’t leave me behind.”

The pause before he replied dragged for an eternity.

“Call this number three weeks from today. Payment is due then. After which I will confirm collection.”

“Cash.”

“Pardon?”

“I can only pay in cash now; I have no access to my banking. Please, cash.”

“Fine.”

The call cut off.

In three weeks, I would be well and truly considered a missing person. Although families like ours would initially try to resolve issues such as these ‘in house’. They wouldn’t find me here, not in this weather, and ultimately it would end up in news outlets and with the police.

My mind jolted back to the police officer who gave me directions just miles from the forge cottage. He saw me, on my own, not under duress or with an unknown person. How would that read?

“Thank you.” Standing I walked the phone to the kitchen table, where Ben was now sitting, eating.

Coming to a stop at the other end of the table, I placed the phone down. Ben seemed to try to keep a healthy distance from me so I could respect that.

He motioned to a plate sitting on the counter, toast and avocado, scrambled egg, cold meats at the side.

“Are you hungry?”

I nodded, collecting the plate.

“There’s coffee in the machine.” He pointed behind me.

Turning I found a mug sitting on a large coffee machine, buttons lit up as I approached it. Pressing flat white, I waited until it beeped. Finding sugar sitting on the counter beside it, I spooned in several heaped teaspoons and collected the plate, taking up the chair at the end of the table.

Ben was immersed in his own breakfast, so I followed suit. The conversation with Christian competing with my current predicament, mixed with utter exhaustion. My bones ached.

I sipped the coffee and a heavy sigh slipped out at the taste.

“You’re alone.” Ben was now looking at me so I shrugged. Obviously.

“Was that your guardian?”

I looked at him then, properly. His glasses sat on the table and his eyes were clear, curious but not calculating.

“Something like that.”

He blinked at me, waiting for me to expand, but I didn’t.

“Making ourselves comfortable?” Alex stomped down the stairs and into the room.

“Stop it, Alex.”

Ben began collecting his plate and tidying up, Alex grabbing food while I finished, in silence, eyes trained on the plate I diligently cleared.

Alex slipped past me, grabbing the phone from the tabletop and retreating into the room Ben had collected it from, slamming the doors closed behind him.