Chapter 102

Monday morning, I’m called into Kimberly’s office once again.

“Everyone is still buzzing about who Miles Hamilton blew that kiss to,” Kimberly says. “Speculation has run rampant. Every article about it is gaining traction. The public has maintained interest.”

I nod along, agreeing but not sure what to contribute. I’ve been keeping it under lock and key that I know exactly who that kiss was for – me.

“To get the scoop on the story, we need to go straight to the source,” Kimberly says.

“An interview with Miles,” I say, following her line of thinking.

“That’s right,” she says. “And as you are someone with a good rapport with him, it’s up to you to dig the truth out of him.”

“I’m not sure it’s possible,” I say. “He can be very stubborn about revealing details that are too personal.”

“He’ll open up to you,” Kimberly says. “I’m sure of it.”

“But, I –”

“Don’t undersell yourself, Esther,” Kimberly says, cutting me off. “You are a very good journalist. If anyone is capable of discovering the truth, it’s you.”

I already know the truth. It’s hiding it from everyone else that’s proving to be difficult.

“I’ve set up a small interview with his team. You are to meet him at his favorite deli for lunch.”

Of course, I know which deli is his favorite, but I play innocent. “Which one is that?”

Kimberly gives me a flat look. Maybe I’m overselling this. I can’t forget that Kimberly is also a journalist. She can likely see through my lies.

“I’ll text you the address,” he says and waves me away, dismissing me.

I return to my desk and take a few deep, steadying breaths. For now, my secret relationship with Miles is still safe. I’m going to have to work hard to keep it that way. Maybe Miles will have some idea on how to cover for this. After all, this is all his fault.

That kiss was too blasé, and now we risk exposure.

Hopefully he has a plan to fix it.

I arrive to the Goosebelly Deli fifteen minutes before the start of our assigned meeting time, but Miles is already there, sitting at his usual table, a sandwich on his plate.

When he sees me, he calls me over. “Esther! Here!”

I go to his table and sit down on the chair across from him.

Around us, the deli is busy, people ordering and paying for their lunches. Every other table is full of people. Miles’s security detail look stressed by the chaos, but Miles himself seems calm.

“Great place, isn’t it?” Miles asks. “Why don’t you order something?”

“We have our interview soon.”

“We can wait until after you finish eating.”

I am a little hungry, now that he mentions it. I’ve been so stressed all morning that I skipped my mid-morning protein bar.

“Very well,” I say, and head to the counter. After receiving my food, I return to the table with Miles.

He’s grinning at me. “Try it. Tell me what you think.”

I bite into the sandwich I ordered. He’s right to love this place. It’s incredibly delicious.

“See?” he says, reading the pleasure on my face. “I knew you’d like it.”

As I continue eating, we make small talk about the weather and the local sports teams. Miles quickly cuts to the chase, however.

“Your editor was insistent on this interview today,” Miles says. “Do I get a hint what the questions are?”

“I imagine you already know,” I tell him. When he just keeps smiling vaguely at me, I tell him flatly, “Everyone wants to know who you blew that kiss to after your campaign speech.”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” Miles asks.

“Of course not. But it’s a hot topic. My work needs some kind of headline.”

He hums as he leans back in his chair, as if considering. “I suppose the truth is off the table.”

“You know why it is,” I answer. We have both our reputations to consider, as well as his entire candidacy. The two of us together would be an epic scandal.

“Yes,” he says, but seems noncommittal about it. I’d feel better if he more readily agreed with me. As it is, I feel like I’m the only one working hard to keep us a secret.

Hugo’s warnings whisper in the back of my mind. He said that Miles would drag me into the spotlight and then abandon me to save himself.

I don’t want to believe it’s true, but it still makes me nervous. My stomach doesn’t feel so well all of the sudden and I push the food away.

Miles lifts a brow at my half-eaten sandwich. “Something wrong?”

“I’m not hungry anymore,” I say. “I really just want to get this interview over with.”

Miles narrows his eyes at me slightly, but he doesn’t argue. “Alright.”

I lift my bag onto the table and remove my cell phone, as well as my notepad and pen. After dropping my bag back onto the chair beside me, I set up the cell phone to record audio.

“Whenever you are ready,” he says to me.

I open my notebook to the page of questions I’ve prepared. “I’m ready,” I say. “First question.”

“Ready,” he says, and gestures me to continue.

“As the youngest person ever to run for president, you’ve acquired many adoring fans. How does it make you feel to know that young women are following you, not just because they believe in your campaign, but also because they find you attractive?”

Miles’s lips twitch upwards. It’s a softball question meant to set the tone for the interview. We’re here to discuss the possibilities of Miles’s love life. Those same adoring fans I mentioned will eat an article like this up. But if Miles answers in kind, humble ways, he’s also likely to attract quieter voters as well.

“It’s incredibly flattering,” Miles says. “I don’t think of it when I get up on stage, however. I just focus on my policy and how to explain my beliefs in the best possible way. I hope that those women who show up to see me are also impressed by my ideals.”

Fair enough. I glance down at my next question.

“However,” Miles continues.

I glance back up into his eyes. Those deep blue oceans are fully, intensely fixated on me,

“I’m afraid if they are hoping for a romantic relationship with me, they will be disappointed,” he says.

“Oh?” I find myself asking.

“Yes,” Miles replies. “The fact is… As I mentioned before, my heart is already spoken for.”

“You said that love is unrequited.”

“That doesn’t make it any less real to me.” Miles laughs. “I know it’s foolhardy of me and I’m careening headfirst into heartache, but I cannot help my feelings. She is such a strong, beautiful woman. She pulls me in…”

I swallow thickly. He can’t be talking about me, but his eyes are on me like he can only mean me.

“When I blew a kiss into the crowd after my speech, I created quite a stir,” Miles says. “That was unintentional. My excuse is simply this, whenever I see her, I am overwhelmed with adoration and affection. I can’t help but express it.”

“So you admit you blew the kiss,” I say.

“It’s on film,” Miles says. “I can’t very well deny that, and I wouldn’t. My constituents always get the truth from me.”

“Will you tell us who this mystery woman is, then?” I ask.

Miles reaches across the table and stops the recording on my phone.

“You already know, Esther.”