Chapter 131

I should feel empowered by my decision, I suppose. Instead, I just feel cold and empty. I’m sure I did the right thing. I would never want to be the other woman in an affair, not even for Miles. Yet the empty shell carved out of my heart feels like it will never fully heal.

At work, I move like a zombie going through the motions of a life I’m sure I once lived. Kimberly and Hugo load me up with work, keeping me busy. They think I don’t notice the concerned looks they share with each other behind my back.

Sabrina continues to report on Miles, although she complains loudly every day that her articles are more fluff about Miles and Selena’s dates than any actual political journalism.

I hear her and Kimberly arguing about it in the office.

“I’m a professional,” Sabrina says. “Can’t we pass the fluff pieces off to the newer hires?”

“This may seem unimportant to you,” Kimberly replies, “But these articles are our biggest draw at the moment. The public can’t get enough of this young couple. They are even calling them American royalty. Do you think a newer reporter could be trusted with articles receiving this kind of traction?”

Sabrina grumbles. “No, I suppose not.”

“The real stories will come in soon,” Kimberly says. “For now, take the credit for these popular stories and keep your ear to the ground. Eventually, Representative Hamilton is going to have to start talking about policy again.”

“It better be soon,” Sabrina says, the last word before she storms out of Kimberly’s office.

Kimberly sighs and shakes her head.

I’m grateful, though I know it isn’t entirely warranted. Kimberly is right about the popularity of Miles and Selena. Sabrina probably is the best fit to push that forward.

However, Sabrina is also right. The fluff pieces are usually written by the newer members of the team. In this case, that would be me.

Kimberly is most likely looking out for the best interest of the company first, but I’m relieved that, by extension, that also protects me.

I don’t know what I would do if I had to be the one to follow Miles and Selena around and write about how disgustingly in love with each other they are. I’d probably have a constant illness in my stomach.

Maybe I would develop an ulcer.

I feel like I’m already halfway there now, though I’m doing it to myself.

I don’t want to write the articles about Miles and Selena, but I still read every single one.

“You are a masochist,” Cynthia says later, as I meet her at her place for dinner. With our plates pushed aside, dinner finished, I’ve brought my laptop onto the table to check through the most recent stories.

“Reading that stuff is only going to hurt you,” Cynthia continues.

She’s right and I know that, but I just can’t stop myself. I’m addicted to the hurt, maybe. Or I just can’t let go of Miles.

“Do they look happy together?” I ask her, turning the laptop toward her so she could see the photo I mean. In it, Miles has his arm around Selena’s shoulder. Shoulder is leaning into him. The rest of their limbs are angled away from each other. They aren’t even looking at each other.

Cynthia glances at the photo, then gives me a flat look. “Stop.”

“But –”

Reaching out, she grabs the top of my laptop and lowers it, closing away the screen and the offending picture with it.

“Listen to me,” Cynthia says. “If you don’t want to be with Miles –”

“I’m not a cheater,” I say at once, in reflex.

Cynthia continues, “Then you have to let him go. Completely. Ignore him. Block him. Turn your head away when you hear his name. Trust me, that’s the only way to move on.” After she says the words, she reconsiders them, tapping her finger on her chin. “Well… That’s not totally true.”

“What’s the other way?” I ask her, almost afraid to find out.

She grins at me. “You find a rebound.”

“You don’t mean…?”

“Go into my closet and pick a hot outfit, Esther. Tonight, we’re going to the club!”

Given that our club outing after discovering what a cheater was, ended in a night of passion between me and Miles, I’m not terribly eager to repeat the experience. The thought of being with someone other than Miles doesn’t fully sit right with me, even though we’ve never made that kind of claim on each other.

Plus, he’s with someone else now, so it makes no sense for me to hold onto those feelings.

Maybe if I forced myself, I could find pleasure in the arms of another man. And with that pleasure, I could move on from Miles.

“Alright,” I say to Cynthia, who immediately bounces up from her chair. Grabbing my arm, she drags me to her closet.

Most of Cynthia’s club outfits are far more revealing than I would usually wear. When I try to pick a simple sundress, Cynthia snatches it straight from my hands.

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Cynthia says. “It’s like you aren’t even trying.” She tosses the sundress aside, then passes me a short cocktail dress with a plunging neckline, covered in sequins.

“I don’t know…” I say. Holding it up to me, it’s not going to leave a lot to the imagination once I put it on.

“Do you want to get over Miles or not?” Cynthia says. “To attract men, you have to bait the hook.”

I really don’t like the analogy of me as fish bait, but she does have a point. If I’m not going to give this my best effort, then I shouldn’t even go.

Heading into the bathroom, I change into the barely-there dress. For it to fit properly, I have to forgo panties and a bra. Fortunately, the dress has built in cups to offer breast support. I don’t feel great about going commando, however.

“It’s only one night,” I remind myself. If I get there, and I’m too uncomfortable, I’ll just go home.

When I return to the bedroom, Cynthia holds up her makeup bag. “Ready for your makeover?”

When we finally arrive at the club an hour later, I am entirely unrecognizable to myself. Cynthia went heavy on the blue eyeshadow and eyeliner, giving me what she called, smoky eyes.

I feel way out of my element, like an imposter masquerading as a younger woman. Surely everyone will see through the façade and laugh me out of the club. The bouncer probably won’t even let me in.

Except he does, allowing Cynthia and I to skip the line right away. It feels unreal.

“What did I tell you? You look great,” Cynthia says with a wink.

Inside the club, the music pulses loud enough to give me a headache. The place is packed with people of all ages. At least I won’t have to try to hang out with the young guys that Cynthia likes.

I don’t want anyone even remotely similar to Miles.

Someone my age. Someone average, with a normal job and a normal life. That would suffice.

Scanning the bar, I see a few options, as well as a few to avoid.

One of the guys near the bar looks remarkably like Miles. What a funny coincidence, the woman beside him looks just like Selena.

“Oh, shit,” Cynthia says, and that’s the moment I realize.

That is Miles and Selena.

“We have to go,” I say at once.

Cynthia, nodding, starts turning me toward the door.

I glance back over my shoulder…

Miles is looking straight at me.