Chapter 143

Oh my God, he absolutely does think the worst. My own face heats up, practically on fire. I can’t believe I walked right into this conversation.

“I, uh… I didn’t mean it like that,” I say quickly.

“I’m not offended by any means,” Hugo says, clearly not believing me. It’s my fault. I’m so embarrassed, I know I’m not coming off very convincingly. “I just think that it’s too soon.”

“Really,” I assure him. “I didn’t mean it like it sounded. I wasn’t asking for…”

I inhale a shaky breath. I wanted to avoid getting into the specific details of my loneliness, but that embarrassment seems miniscule compared to this misunderstanding.

“It’s quiet in the house without my daughters. And after today… I wasn’t inviting you in for anything intimate, I swear. I just wasn’t ready to be alone yet.”

Hugo takes in my words. Nodding once, he glances sideways and me and then quickly away. “Even so… I would worry that scenario, even if unintentional, might progress to other things. I believe it best, for both of us, if you go inside alone.” He takes a breath. “I’m sorry –”

“No, no. It’s fine.”

Maybe he’s right. Maybe if we were both alone in my house, and we started kissing again…

I don’t know. One thing could lead to another, I suppose.

But his rejection makes me feel foolish for asking. It’s an additional sting on top of the embarrassment and awkwardness.

“I should go.”

Grabbing my things, I reach for the car door handle and pop it open. Before I can go, Hugo touches my shoulder.

“We’re fine, Esther. This misunderstanding doesn’t change anything between us, and I look forward to our next date.”

“Me, too,” I tell him, without looking back. I really just want to get out of the car now. Being home alone seems like bliss compared to the tension between Hugo and I right now. “Goodnight, Hugo.”

“Goodnight, Esther,” he says and removes his hand.

The instant it’s gone, I stand and close the car door behind me. I don’t run to the house, but it’s definitely a hasty retreat.

Inside, I flick the lights on, close my front door, and breathe.

Maybe being home alone isn’t so terrible after all.

Through the peep hole, I watch as Hugo drives away. Then I head into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of wine.

Such a nice night, to end on such an awkward note. The humiliation sits inside of me like a stone. I need to talk to someone about it. If I could laugh about it with a friend, then I’m sure the weight of it wouldn’t be so daunting.

After pouring my wine and taking a deep sip, I grab my phone out of my purse and call Cynthia.

She doesn’t pick up right away. The phone rings and rings. Just when I think it’s about to go to voicemail, she finally answers.

“Esther. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you tonight.”

That’s a strange thing for her to say. Sure, we don’t talk every night but we do talk frequently enough that a phone call like this shouldn’t be unexpected or unwelcome.

“Is it alright that I called?” I ask.

“You can always call me, you know that,” Cynthia says. I do know that, but she’s still acting odd. There’s almost a reluctance in the way she’s saying her words. They’re stilted, almost. Hesitant.

“Are you okay?” I ask, starting to worry now.

“Yes, I just…” Her mouth moves away from the phone, making her voice distant for a moment. “Hey, please don’t touch that.”

Oh. She’s not alone. “I didn’t realize you had a date over,” I say. “We can talk another time.”

“He’s not a date,” Cynthia says. “And he wasn’t expected.”

“He…?”

“Let me talk to her,” says a familiar male voice on the other end of the phone.

I know that voice. Intimately.

“Miles…?” I ask.

Cynthia sighs. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Cynthia, I don’t know if –”

Something on her end of the phone clicks. “You’re on speakerphone,” Cynthia says.

I immediately shut my mouth.

“Esther,” Miles says.

I close my eyes, reveling in the way he says my name. If only I could hear him say it, not just every day, but multiple times a day, I would be a happy woman.

I’d only just seen him earlier tonight for our interview, but already, I missed him. I hate the wedge between us now. I wish for all the world that we could be rid of it.

Yet so long as he’s engaged, that wedge will remain firmly where it is.

The question now is, “What are you doing at Cynthia’s house?”

“He wants to talk about you,” Cynthia says. “He would come straight to you, but he feels as if you are avoiding him.”

“I see there are no secrets between the two of you,” Miles says, presumably to Cynthia.

“If you want me to keep secrets from my best friend, you don’t know me at all,” Cynthia replies.

Even as my best friend, Cynthia shouldn’t have to field any drama between Miles and me. We’re all adults here. I can clean up my own messes.

Granted, I did run from him earlier, with Hugo’s assist. But whatever he wants to talk about might be easier to talk about now on the phone, rather than face to face. Especially with Cynthia there for moral support.

“Did you have some question for me?” I ask.

“I do,” Miles says right away.

“Ask,” I tell him.

“You’ll give me a straight answer?”

It depends on the question. “Yes,” I say, and hope it’s the truth.

Miles pauses a moment, as if he’s preparing himself. Then he asks, “Are you dating Hugo Harbinger?”

The question hits me like a slap to the face. How could he know?

Then I shake my head, clearing it, reminding myself that this isn’t a secret. Hugo and I have gone on a couple of dates. Though we went out of town for the second one, we did run into Selena. It’s possible that she shared with Miles what she saw.

And then, of course, there’s tonight. When Hugo rescued me from having to speak privately with Miles, he did so by circling his arm around my waist. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but the move could have been seen by Miles as possessive.

There’s no easy way out of this conversation. If I lie to Miles, there’d be no benefit. He’d find out the truth eventually and then be angry with me. Plus, lying would be deeply unfair to Hugo, who I am actively dating.

Things with Hugo aren’t perfect, but he’s a decent man who has treated me kindly. To pretend we are just friends would be deeply unfair to all three of us: Hugo, me, and Miles.

So I gather my strength and courage and tell Miles the truth.

“Hugo and I are dating, yes.”

The other end of the phone goes very quiet.

Regret swells within me, knowing that I hurt him, but I try to push it away. After all, he’s the one who got engaged. If he didn’t propose to Selena, I never would have tried to move on with Hugo.

“I see,” Miles says, after a moment. “Is it serious?”

I don’t want to tell him that I don’t know yet, especially because he’s engaged. If he’s moved onto something more serious, then I want to be able to, as well.

“It could be,” I say, though it feels like a lie.

Miles goes quiet again.