Chapter 127

My fingers move on their own, dragging the cursor over the headline and opening the full article.

The fiancé’s name is Selena Gregory, the daughter of a wealthy owner of a chain of exclusive jewelry stores. She herself is well known for her work with many charities. She even works in soup kitchens every Sunday.

I want to hate her on principle, but every line I read is more complimentary than the last.

Millions donated to starving children…

Designs a discount brand of clothing, saying, “Fashion should be for everyone, not just people with a vast amount of disposable income.”

In addition to her soup kitchen work, she also regularly volunteers at a local animal shelter. Her social media has brought so much traction to the animal shelter, that they credit her personally for the rescue of 108 dogs and cats.

This woman could be a saint.

She’s also beautiful. Her make up is subtle, but highlights her already fine features. High cheekbones, a pointed chin, a button nose, plump lips. She could be a model herself if she wasn’t so busy with everything else she did.

Scrolling back up, I look at the picture of her and Miles. They look good together, both around the same age, both model-level attractive.

How did I ever think I could be the one to stand at his side?

“Are you okay?” Cynthia asks. “Remember to breathe.”

I startle a little. Honestly, I was so caught up in reading this article that I forgot I was still holding the phone to my ear.

“I’m breathing,” I say, but that’s not the full truth either. My breath is so shallow and irregular that I’m feeling lightheaded.

“Sure, sure,” Cynthia says. “Now stop lying to me and take a few deep breaths for real.”

Closing my eyes, I force myself to listen as she begins counting.

“Inhale. One, Two, Three, Four. Hold. One, Two, Three, Four. Exhale… Hold…”

We go through the process for four breaths.

“Better?” she asks.

“In a way,” I reply. Yes, I don’t feel so much like I might black out anymore, but my heart is still shattered into tiny pieces. Each piece sharply juts out into my chest, giving me some of the worst ache I’ve ever felt in my life.

“It could be a political marriage,” Cynthia says. “She fits the bill of a perfect first lady.”

With all of her charity work, that is overwhelmingly true. It doesn’t make me feel any better.

“He’s still marrying her,” Esther says. “And so soon after we…” I focus on my breathing again for a moment. When I trust myself to speak again, I say, “He must have known her for a long time, to be ready to propose like this.”

“Maybe…”

“Do you think he was with us both at the same time?” I ask.

My relationship with Miles was only ever strictly sexual, yet it still turns my stomach thinking he might have had a different girlfriend the entire time. Did that make me the other woman? Would he truly do that to me, knowing everything that I went through with Garnar?

“I don’t know,” Cynthia says, sympathy in her voice. “But I can tell you that Selena Gregory is not a woman I ever saw him speaking to in the club.”

“You know her?” I ask.

“I’ve met her a few times, here and there. A very sweet girl, as you’d probably expect, given all the good things she’s done. But she’s also very focused. She wants to save the world, and she’s passionate about that. She doesn’t drink at all, so I doubt she’d want to go with him to the club.”

Does this woman have any flaws? I feel like an actual dumpster compared to her.

I look at the photo one more time. It’s a candid shot, of them walking out of a restaurant. They are close to each other, but not touching. Both are smiling for different cameras, neither really acknowledging each other.

Maybe this is a political marriage.

That doesn’t make me feel all that better. “Even if it’s just a marriage of convenience,” I say. “Even if she just wants to save the world, and he can see how that adds to his candidacy… Even if there is no love between them at all, which we don’t know, but…” I sigh. “They are still engaged. A marriage of convenience is still a marriage.”

“Unfortunately, that is true,” Cynthia says. “I’m sorry, Esther. Do you want me to come over? Do you want to go out? Whatever you want to do…”

“The reporters outside might be waiting for me to do something,” I say. “I need to stay in tonight.”

Cynthia curses. “Alright, but I’m staying on the phone with you until you don’t sound so much like you are about to burst into tears.”

“I’m not going to cry.” Even as I say it, I have to look up at the ceiling to keep my tears from falling.

“Esther…”

“It’s fine, Cynthia. I’m okay. I just want to be alone for a little while, alright?”

“If that’s what you want…”

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I say, then say goodnight, and hang up.

The minute the phone disconnects, I drop my head to my pillow and hide my tears and shame there.

Have I been the other woman behind this perfect woman’s back? What if their relationship is real – at least to her? How could I hurt someone like that?

And even if I didn’t…

Even if they only got together since Miles and I went our separate ways…

God, it hurts so much that I wish I could rip my own heart out to stop feeling this pain.

Gathering my blankets around me, I try to find comfort in their warmth as my entire world falls apart.

The next morning, all of the news vans are gone from in front of the house. Miles’ engagement, it seems, has totally cleared any suspicion away from he and I. The big news that has claimed everyone’s focus now is Selena Gregory and their engagement.

It’s a blessing, I suppose. My daughters are able to return to school, and Garnar to work. I, too, can now drive myself without being accosted with pushy questions.

If only this shift of popularity wasn’t the result of Miles’s engagement announcement.

I drive myself to work, park, and walk in. No one bothers me on the way to my desk.

Only Kimberly does give me a sideways glance of pity as I walk by her office. She doesn’t say a word, though, and instead starts layering work on top of me before I can even sit down. I hear my email alerts chiming from my phone.

When I do sit down, the phone on my desk starts to ring.

“Hello?” I say into the receiver.

“Come to my office,” Hugo says.

“I’ll be right there.”

Leaving my things behind, I stand again and walk to Hugo’s office.

When I enter, he’s standing beside his desk. As I walk in, he starts walking toward me. We meet in the center of his office.

Before I can say a word, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me into a hug.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice soft.

I’ve been trying to be strong. Hugo’s tenderness pushes me over and I break.

“No,” I admit, and drop my face down into his shoulder, hiding my face and the tears quickly rising in my eyes. “No, I’m not.”

Hugo holds me tighter.