Chapter 117

After my lunch with Hugo, I begin to ignore Miles’s calls and texts. Since meeting him the other night, I haven’t always known what to say. I would respond to his messages with simple replies or cute smiley faces. He’s been busy so that’s helped me from divulging too much before I was ready.

But now… keeping up appearances just seems dishonest, not with what I plan to do.

Hugo was right, letting people go is difficult. For him, the person he pushed away deserved it. Miles doesn’t. We are just two very different people unable to meet in the middle right now. Maybe in eight years, if Miles completes two terms and backs away from the political spotlight…

If he still wants me then, perhaps things could work. But that feels like a lifetime away. Who knew would could happen in that time?

At work, Hugo asks Kimberly to increase my workload, keeping me so busy I don’t have time to think about anything else. I can hear my phone vibrate with texts, but they are forgotten in the next moment so that I can finish my article within deadline.

At the end of the work day, however, is when the dread starts to kick in. Without work to distract me, I have no reason not to respond to Miles.

Dragging this on is cruel to us both. I know I should send him a text telling him that I can’t do this anymore. And that I mean it this time.

Yet every time I sit down with my phone in my hand, my stomach twists and my anxiety spikes. I can’t seem to punch in the letters I need to form the words that would send Miles away.

I can’t go home. Sitting in my room, trying to relax, sounds like torture.

Instead, I call Cynthia. “Can I come over?”

“I’ve got wine chilling in the fridge,” she says, her way of extending an invitation.

“I’m on my way.”

Twenty minutes later, I pull up in front of Cynthia’s house. Oddly, there’s already another car here. A black sedan with tinted windows. A familiar security man stands outside of Cynthia’s front door.

Miles is here?

I didn’t have my phone alerting text messages while I was driving, but I can see several now from Cynthia.

Your boytoy is here.

Did something happen?

He says he’s going to wait for you.

Lowering the phone to my lap, I think wildly for a moment of driving away. If I don’t actually confront Miles, then maybe this breakup never needs to happen.

But… no. That wouldn’t work, would it? Eventually Miles would stop chasing. He would know it’s done without me having said a word.

That’s so much worse than just talking to him.

I have to go inside. I have to confront him. Then, we can both move forward without regret.

Gathering my courage, I remove my seatbelt, grab my purse and my phone, and leave my car.

The security man at the door does not seem surprised by my arrival. He steps to the side, clearly having expected me. He opens the door and I step through.

Cynthia sits at one of the stools near her kitchen island. Her wine glass is in her hand, the white wine within mostly empty.

Miles stands against the wall in her kitchen. His arms crossed, he glares at the floor. Cynthia is talking nonsense, about the weather and the local sports teams. Miles grunts but doesn’t rely with anything of substance.

As I come closer, they both glance over. Cynthia gives me a sad little smile, supportive. Miles frowns deeply and steps forward.

“I need to speak with you,” he says.

“I need to talk to you, too,” I reply.

He nods.

“You can use the spare room,” Cynthia offers.

“Not a bedroom,” I say at once.

Miles’s face goes carefully blank.

Cynthia raises both of her brows. “Uh, oh. Okay. You guys stay here then. I’ll go read in my bedroom.” Grabbing her wine glass, Cynthia pushes herself up onto her feet and exits the kitchen.

The instant she leaves the room, Miles walks forward. He lifts his hands, presumably to put them somewhere on my body. I can’t allow that, knowing I will instantly give in to temptation and hold him rather than turn him away.

For the sake of my will, I wince away from his touch. He freezes instantly, confusion and hurt crinkling his brow. Then he lets his hands fall.

“I don’t understand,” he says. “What’s changed since we were together the other night?”

Suddenly feeling cold, I wrap my arms around myself. “I’ve been thinking…” No, that doesn’t feel like enough. “I’ve been putting things into perspective…”

“Esther. You have to trust me…”

“It’s not about trust,” I tell him. “Our situation has been so special to me, Miles, but it’s more than you need to take on. You have so much on your plate. Why fight so hard for me? For our physical relationship?”

Miles comes closer. This time, he does catch me by the upper arms. His grips is so fierce, that I drag my gaze up to his and see the intensity in his eyes. “If you don’t know the answer to that already…”

Oh, no. Already I can feel my heart thawing. If I don’t say something quickly, this will turn again, and I will be back at square one.

“I almost walked into traffic,” I say.

Miles stills. His eyes widen slightly. “What?”

“Going to work. I had to cross the street, and I was so worried and distracted about the Whisperers and about us, that I nearly…” I swallow thickly. “If Hugo hadn’t pulled me back –”

“Hugo?” With darkening eyes, Miles looks away.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “But for both our sakes… For your campaign, and my job…”

“And your life,” Miles adds miserably.

I don’t agree or disagree. “I think we need to separate. Even if it’s only temporary.”

Miles’s jaw clenches. For a flash, his eyes are a tumultuous sea of emotion. Then, he blinks, and everything totally shuts off. I’m left staring at the blue wall of his eyes.

“How could I deny you?” he asks. “I never want you to suffer, Esther. Especially not because of me. If separating is what will help you…” He takes a breath. “That’s what we do.”

“Okay,” I say, more and more unsure with each passing second. I can’t back down now, but I want to. My stomach twists. My fingers tremble.

“One last thing though,” Miles says. He steps closer and wraps his arms around my waist.

Thinking he wants a hug, I allow it. But then one of those hands reaches up, roughly cups my cheek, and tilts my head back. I allow that too.

His gaze drops to my lips. I lick them.

In a flash, his mouth crashes down on mine, devouring my lips with his. He licks past the seam, plunging deeper into my mouth.

I cling onto his shoulders, trying to match his ministrations with my own tongue, almost as if in a dance.

His fingers dig into my waist and my neck. I hook my nails into the meat of his back.

For a perfect, blissful moment, nothing in the world can separate us.

Then, as abruptly as it began, Miles backs away. He looks me over once more and turns to the door.

He doesn’t say a word as he leaves the house.

Watching, regret immediately fills me, but it’s too late.

I’ve made my decision. Now I have to see it through.