Chapter 128

Hugo holds me as the overwhelming emotions eat away at me for a while. I hold on, just as tightly, so that I don’t lose myself in the flood of feelings.

“I’m sorry,” I say between the tears, knowing that I am making him uncomfortable just with my physical presence. More than once, I try to pull back and put some distance between us, but he just holds on tighter.

“It’s fine,” he says. “I’m glad I can be here for you in this moment.”

He’s such a good friend that it draws even more emotion out of me.

Five minutes later, I’ve cried as much as I can, and I pull back from him.

His gaze is steady and kind, his expression gentle. “Better?” he asks me, concern in his gaze.

“Better,” I reply.

Walking to the desk, he pulls a few tissues from the box and hands them to me. As I dab at my cheeks, I pull away mascara. Horrified, I realize with a start that I must look like an absolute mess.

Hugo smiles a little. “Use my private bathroom.”

“You have a…?”

As I ask, Hugo walks to one wall and a door I assumed was a closet. After opening it, he flicks on the light, revealing tile and porcelain inside. There’s a sink and a mirror, so I immediately start forward.

When I enter, I leave the bathroom door open behind me so Hugo and I can continue to talk. I only plan to fix up my makeup a little. That is, until I look in the mirror.

The state of my face is an utter disaster. Mascara not only hugs the bottoms of my eyes like a raccoon, it also drips down in streaks the length of my cheeks. My eyeshadow has rubbed all the way from my nose to my ears.

This isn’t something a small repair with a wet paper towel will fix. This necessitates a full removal.

“It’s not so bad,” Hugo says from the doorway. I meet his eyes in the mirror.

“I look like a wet cat,” I say.

Taking in the sight of me, he smiles a little, but doesn’t correct me. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be at my desk.”

When he leaves, I turn the sink on all the way and start scrubbing.

By the time I finish, my face is clean and bare. Not even having brought my purse into Hugo’s office, I don’t even have my emergency concealer.

I don’t hate my bare face by any means, but the makeup sometimes felt like a mask I could hide behind at work. Without it, I feel vulnerable – especially after having just bared my soul to Hugo.

Unfortunately, I can’t just hide in the bathroom all day, as much as I want to. I try to fix my hair as best I can, letting it fall down around my face. When it’s the best it’s going to get, I walk out of the bathroom.

Hugo looks up from his desk. The warm smile he offers me is the same as it always is, despite my lack of makeup and how very plain I’m feeling at the moment.

“You okay to return to work now?” he asks me.

“I am.” The time in the bathroom not only helped me clean my face, but also my soul. I felt recharged, even if embarrassed. “Thank you, Hugo.”

“My door is always open to you, Esther. You know that.”

I do, and it means so very much to have such a good, supportive friend.

Nodding once more in acknowledgement and appreciation, I turn and leave his office.

To return to my cubicle, I have to round the pit and pass the popular coffee station. Sabrina stands there presently, pouring herself a mug of coffee.

I really, really don’t want to walk past her right now, especially without my makeup armor on, but it would be too obvious that I’m avoiding her if I walked the long way around the pit.

No seeing any alternative, I gather my strength and walk toward her.

She glances as I draw near, almost as if she expected me. “Esther. Do you have a minute?”

What could she want to talk about now? The last time she wanted a little chat, she cornered me in the women’s room and tried to pry information out of me about Miles and my relationship. Now that Miles is engaged and that engagement is very much public, can’t she finally back off?

What secrets could I have that she would value anymore.

“What is it?” I ask, stopping at her side.

Facing me, she sighs, a frown curling down the corner of her lips.

“I owe you an apology,” she says.

Of all the things in all possible timelines in all possible universes she could have said to me, I never expected an apology.

“I was wrong about you and Miles,” Sabrina continues. “I pushed you hard, thinking I was onto something. You know this reporter’s nose of mine. I’m like a bloodhound sometimes.”

“It’s okay,” I tell her, really just wanting this conversation to be over.

Quickly, her frown cleared. In her relief, she even offered a small smile. Her eyes sharpened, however.

“I still think you’re hiding something about him, or at least you were. Maybe you knew about Selena and had to keep your mouth shut. I don’t know. But I was barking up the wrong tree, and I’m sorry I put the heat on you so hot.”

“I appreciate that,” I said, wishing this agony would end now more than ever.

Maybe, on some other day, when everything inside of my body didn’t ache with heartbreak, I could acknowledge this apology as a good step forward in the potential work relationship between Sabrina and I. As it was, everything about this just felt like salt in my wounds.

“I should get back to work,” I tell her, before she can say anything else or I can react in any way. I don’t want to give her a new reason to start suspecting me again.

“Right.” She nods, and turns back toward the coffee pot.

As soon as she glances away, I make my escape, fleeing as quickly as I can without full-on running back to the safety of my cubicle.

Kimberly glances at me from her office and taps at her wrist where a watch should be. Undoubtedly, she’s loaded me up with work for the day and wants me to meet those deadlines.

Eager to distract myself from the crumpled up feeling of my heart, I get to work.

I’m glued to my desk for the rest of the day, breaking once only to reach down for my lunchbox, before I continue to work while eating my peanut-butter and jelly sandwich.

Things are going well. I’m meeting my deadlines, sending article after report after fleshed out lead after article to Kimberly. After each one, she sends me a message on the work messenger: a simple thumbs-up picture.

I’m making good progress, really proud of myself. Then, with only ten minutes left in the day, my phone chimes with a text message. Did I forget to put it on silent?

Mortified that it might start to ring, I reach into my bag, grab my phone, and unlock it. To turn on silent, I have to pull down my notifications. There, I see that the text is from Miles.

Can we talk?