We spent the rest of the hour talking about random things. Mostly, I listened to Paul and Megan exchange stories about me and felt strangely happy. It was the closest thing I’d gotten to a family dinner, except that we weren’t at home and there was no dinner on the table. But still, my mood only improved as the minutes ticked by. Megan and Paul got on well, and there were no moments of awkward silences between any of us.
When the guards came in to usher us away, Megan looked up in shock. “Already?” she said. “That can’t have been an hour.”
“You’ll have to visit me more often,” Paul said.
“I will,” I promised again.
“Not you,” he said. “I was talking to Megan.”
I smirked at Paul as he gave me a good-natured wink and Megan laughed. As we stood up to say goodbye, I felt a little tug of emotion come over me, and I started to unravel, realizing that I was going back to my life and Paul was just stuck here within these walls with no family and no one to lean on.
Paul seemed to sense what I was thinking because when he leaned in to hug me, he whispered in my ear. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine here.”
“I’ll come back in a few weeks,” I said.
“I believe you.” Paul nodded.
Then he gave Megan a hug and disappeared out a different door with the guards. Megan and I waited until he had disappeared completely from sight and then we walked back out of the prison, collected our phones, and headed to the car. We walked in silence the whole way, but I was conscious of Megan glancing over at me every now and again.
The moment we got in the car, Megan put her hand on mine, and I took a deep breath that made me feel much better. Then we started the drive back home. We didn’t really talk much during the journey, but we didn’t really need to. It was enough to just be with Megan. When I stopped outside Brent’s apartment, I turned to her and kissed her softly on the cheek.
“Thank you,” was all I said.
“Anytime,” she replied.
Then she got out of the car with her bag and walked away from me, and I wondered why I felt so sad at the image of her retreating form.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Megan
My phone rang, and when I glanced down, I saw that it was an unknown number. Curious, I picked up, keeping my voice low so as not to disturb everyone around me.
“Hello?”
“Is this Ms. Megan Jacobs?”
“Uh…yes?” I replied.
“I’m calling to inform you about your husband.”
“What?” I said, in shock. “I think you’ve got the wrong person.”
“You are Ms. Jacobs, are you not?” the woman on the other line asked.
“I am, but…”
“Your husband was brought into the hospital an hour ago, and he listed you as his next of kin,” she told me. “Mr. Phil Roberts.”
I blood went cold. “Phil,” I said, in a panic. “What happened?”
“He was brought in an hour ago—”
“What happened?” I demanded again.
“He was in an accident, ma’am,” she replied. “I—”
“Which hospital?” I asked rudely.