“Timothy, meet Rebecca,” Walter said.
Timothy looked at me, half confused, half intrigued. “You brought someone here with a full official escort?”
“I wanted her to feel safe,” Walter replied smoothly.
Timothy sighed. “I’m sorry about all of this… genuinely.”
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi,” Timothy answered with a faint smile.
Walter clapped his hands. “Good. You’ve met. I’ll leave the rest to you.”
And just like that, he walked out.
For illustrative purposes only
The Days After
I left confused, annoyed, and trying not to think about Timothy’s eyes. Going back wasn’t an option.
But two days later, Timothy appeared at the grocery store. No suit—just a jacket and a queue number, waiting in my line.
“I figured this was less dramatic than the alternative,” he said.
“The alternative being a motorcade?” I asked.
