Chapter 153

For my final date with Hugo, I picked a simple and sleek dark blue blouse with black trousers. My hair, I pulled up into a no-nonsense bun.

While I applied my makeup, I had Cynthia on speakerphone, my phone resting on the bathroom counter near the sink.

“And you are sure you are sure about this?” Cynthia asks.

“I’m being dishonest with him and with myself. It’s not fair to either of us.”

“I’m always on your side. I’ll support any decision you make.”

“You don’t agree with what I’m doing?” I ask. I’m confident in my choice, but I want my friend to be supportive of the choice too.

“Listen, I would have broken up with Hugo the first time you kissed and there wasn’t any spark, but I’m impulsive. You’ve always been more level-headed than me. That’s why I’m asking if you are sure? I don’t want you to regret this later, by acting like me.”

I chuckle slightly, shaking my head. “I’m sure, Cynthia.”

“Good. Because I like Miles better.”

“Cynthia!”

“I’m just saying…”

My talk with Cynthia helps solidify my decision, and I go to meet Hugo feeling even more assured than before.

At least, until I’m sitting across from him. That’s when I start to feel guilty.

I don’t want to hold this off, though. I don’t want to wait until the end of the date to potentially break Hugo’s heart, if that’s what I might be doing. So, after we order our drinks, I dive right in.

“We have to talk,” I tell him.

He folds his hands and places them on top of the table. His emotions seem to leave his face, giving him the kind of expression he wears when he is dealing with difficulties at work.

I hate that I triggered the CEO response in him, but maybe it’s better this way. If this is how he copes with potentially upsetting news, I won’t fault him for it.

“So you said in your text,” Hugo says. “I’m ready to talk when you are.”

Nodding, I brace myself, and then I speak, “While I greatly appreciate all you do for me, and I’m proud of the friendship we’ve cultivated between the two of us, I just don’t see a romantic relationship between us moving forward.”

Hugo listens carefully to my words. His expression is a stone slate, giving away nothing of what he’s thinking or feeling.

“I’ve valued our time together, but I realize that I only feel for you as I would a friend,” I continue.

He holds up his hand, stopping me. “You don’t have to say anymore, Esther.”

“I don’t?”

“No. I also value your friendship, and hope that we can proceed as friends.”

I’m pleased with his calm reaction, but admittedly, I don’t know, I thought he might have had some kind of emotion about it.

Is it strange that I feel disappointed? Though, this is very Hugo. He’s mature and steady. He doesn’t let emotions rule.

Just this once, I wish he would.

Maybe that’s further proof that we would never work out together.

“I can tell from your face that you were expecting something different from me,” Hugo continues.

Immediately, I try to school my features. “I didn’t mean –”

“It’s alright. Truthfully, I’ve known all along that things would go this way. Though I liked you enough to see it through to the end.” Hugo gives me a tiny, soft smile. “I’ve known from the start that I was competing against your love for Miles. He had a head-start on me.”

“I’m so sorry, Hugo,” I say.

He shakes his head lightly. “I’m glad that we will remain friends. The gift you’ve given me these past few weeks has done more for me than you’ll ever know.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Before you, I didn’t think I would ever want to touch another person ever again, especially not a romantic partner. Yet I found comfort in touching you, not dismay. This gives me hope for the future.”

My heart breaks for him. I wish I could be the right person for him, but I’m not.

I’m just not.

“You should tell Miles how you feel,” Hugo says. “You deserve to be with the person you love.”

“He’s engaged,” I remind Hugo. Though in the back of my mind, I remember Miles’s words, that he would leave Selena for me.

“He’d make the better choice, if he knew you’d accept him,” Hugo says.

“Thank you,” I tell him, “But I’m not ready yet. I don’t know if that’s the right thing to do.”

“You have to follow your heart,” Hugo says kindly. “If you cannot be with me, I would still see you happy.”

I truly do not deserve this man – not as a partner, not even as a friend.

“Now,” he says, lifting his menu. “What should I order?”

That he’s staying through the meal… That he still wants to enjoy an evening out with me, even as friends…

I am very blessed.

“Thank you, Hugo,” I tell him. “For everything.”

He glances back at me over the top of his menu. “Thank me by being happy, Esther.”

I nod.

The next night, I find myself accepting a sudden invitation to go to my adopted parents’ house. Mom and Dad are in the sitting room, so Davis leads me there. They both are seated on the sofa, so I sit upon the nearby armchair. Thea isn’t anywhere in sight.

“It’s been a while,” Mom says, smiling. “We just wanted to check in.”

Dad reads the newspaper. He grunts in agreement.

I glance around, expecting Thea to pop out from behind a corner.

Since the revelation of Thea’s disgrace, my adopted parents have accepted me back into the fold of our family. Though, even then, that only means the occasional text or call, and the even rarer invite to their estate.

For them to take an interest in me now seems suspicious, but it could just be the usual check in time. It has been a while.

Still, given previous experiences, I can’t help but anticipate some kind of Thea surprise tonight.

“Well…” I think about where to start. “Did you get the pictures of my new house that I sent you?”

“Yes,” Mom says, her smile tight. “It’s so… quaint.”

“I think it’s comfortable,” I say. After all, what do I need a big house for, when I’m alone half of the time? I don’t want to say that to them, however, since they live in a mansion. They could sleep in a different bed every day for over a week without having to leave their house.

“Well, I’m glad you enjoy it,” Mom says.

I think about what else to share. “I’ve also been thinking about a career change.”

Dad finally lowers the paper enough to peer over it. “What kind of career change?”

“Well… Journalism isn’t quite how I thought it would be,” I admit. I don’t want to reveal too much about my plans, especially if I choose a different course. But, to gauge my father’s reaction, I say, “I’m thinking about going into politics.”

Dad lowers the paper fully into his lap. “It’s about damn time.”

I blink, surprised.

“I’ve always thought you would have a political career,” Dad says. “Instead, you decided to waste your time writing about other people’s lives.”

“We approve of your choice,” Mom says. “That’s what your father is trying to say.”

I would never make a big life decision just because my parents wanted me to, but hearing them so staunchly in favor of this shift swells something like pride within me.

More and more, Miles’s offer feels like the right choice.