Chapter 31

Nerves rising, I wait for Hugo to explain the stakes of his proposed competition. This is a new side of him that I haven’t seen before, a tiny edge that likely rarely sees the surface. He must be somewhat cutthroat though, to succeed with his news network as much as he has.

“If you win,” Hugo says, “I’ll grant you a wish.”

“A wish?” That’s unusual. Though, Hugo has money and power, being heir to the Harbinger News Network. I imagine there’s very little he can’t do. Even so, I want to clarify. “What kind of wish?”

“Anything within my power to give to you,” he says. “Whatever your heart desires.”

I pause. That’s a bit flirty, isn’t it? Is Hugo… flirting with me? I have no idea how to feel about this. Technically, I am still married. Plus, my heart is all kinds of tangled up with my frustrating Miles feelings.

Crushing on Hugo would be better for me, honestly. The man is closer to my age, for one. That’s probably the most important thing.

“And if you win?” I ask.

His smiles widens. “It’s a secret.”

Oh, this man is trouble. Maybe not Miles-level trouble, but he’s still the kind of guy you need to keep an eye on. The wheels always seem to be turning in his head. He probably has a thousand different plans in action at any given moment. A million different preparations.

It’s a little exciting.

Even if it does make me miss Miles.

Ug! I need to smack myself. Stop thinking of Miles.

“A secret, huh?”

“Nothing untoward, I assure you,” Hugo says. “Though I suppose this is a matter of trust…”

We’ve only just met. I shouldn’t really be willing to trust this man. But, what the heck. I’m feeling good after my hole-in-one, and I’m ready to have a crush that isn’t Miles. Why not take a chance on this handsome man?

“Very well,” I say. “I accept these terms.”

“Good,” Hugo says.

I expect the flirting to continue, and in a way it does. Hugo and I are both very confident and this occasionally causes us to butt heads in a flirty kind of way.

“Watch me on this next swing,” Hugo says. After the swing, he teases, “Did you learn anything?”

I can give as good as I get, though. So when I chip a ball out of the bunker and straight into the hole, I ask him, “Did it go in? It went in right?” Even though I’m damn sure it went in.

Hugo gives me a withering look, but since it’s coupled with a smile, it has no real heat behind it.

For the rest of the course, we’re neck and neck. The other pair playing with us have stopped keeping track of their own scores, invested in ours instead.

I suppose Hugo has granted Senator Grace’s wish. Her two sons are finally getting along, in that they’ve bet on Hugo and I and are now watching us both with rapt attention. At least they aren’t arguing – yet. I imagine that will come after, when one of us has won.

Our scores are so close, that not only does our contest come down to the last hole, it depends on our last stroke. We’re both in putting distance. My ball is slightly farther away from the hole that Hugo’s.

Since I spend most of my golf time on the range, the short game isn’t my strong suit. However, I do spend a lot of time on the mini-golf course with my daughters. There are no windmills or hungry hippos on this golf course, but I can still transfer my skills from there to here.

“Double or nothing!” shouts one of the Grace brothers. The other takes the offer.

Hugo shushes them. “Don’t distract her.”

“It’s fine,” I say. Honestly, between raising two pre-teens at home and the constant drama at work, I’m more comfortable in chaos than I am in silence.

I line up my putt, gauge the distance and the shape of the course. Then I adjust and gently, very gently, tap the ball.

The ball curves as expected, but then straightens once it hits an incline on the green. It slows as it nears the hole, more than I thought it would. I hold my breath – did I not hit it hard enough?

But then, blessedly, it drops right into the hole.

I exhale at once in a harsh, breathy laugh! I’m having such a lucky day, maybe I should play the lottery?

My luck might not hold now though. Hugo still has to take his shot. If he gets his putt in, then we’ll have to think of some kind of tie-breaker.

Everything comes down to this: Hugo’s last stroke.

“That was a very good putt,” Hugo tells me as he lines up his own shot. “But watch here. A master at work.”

I laugh a little, but then I step to the side and watch. Hugo is a good player and full of confidence. He has every chance of making this shot.

Several times, he looks from the hole to his ball and back again. Then, he pulls back and putts.

The ball rolls forward but it’s losing speed too much, too quickly.

It gradually stops a good three inches from the hole.

It doesn’t go in, which means I win.

I gasp in surprise.

Hugo sighs. “Well…”

I want to tease him, that a master at work sure misses a lot of putts, but being the end of the game, I don’t want to be a sore winner and rub salt in his wounds.

One of the Grace brothers cheers, the other buries his head in his hands.

“Hugo! What the hell, man?”

“Great job, Mrs. Graham!”

Hugo and I look at them and then laugh. Hugo picks up his ball and then mine from inside the cup. Then he brings it over to me.

“Congratulations, Esther,” he says and places my ball in my waiting palm.

“I had fun,” I tell him. “I wouldn’t mind doing this again sometime.”

Hugo smiles. “The thought of seeing you again takes the sting out of my loss. I don’t suppose that’s your wish?”

I shake my head. “More a hopeful suggestion.”

“Ah.” Mirth shines in his eyes. “Well, let’s hear it then. What is your wish?”

I consider my options. Hugo said anything within his means to give. He’s a rich man, heir to a famous news network. I could ask for money, or a car, or anything materialistic and he would likely deliver without question.

Likely, he expects something like that.

But materialistic goods are not on the top of my mind right now. Truly, what I need is access to more powerful individuals. If I can increase my own network, then I can look better to a judge in the divorce. The more people I have on my side, willing to vouch for me, the more likely I will win my custody battle.

With that in mind, there really is only one thing I can ask for. I only hope that he will grant my wish.

“I have one idea…” I say, hedging. I’m nervous, knowing it’s not a conventional ask.

“Let’s hear it,” Hugo says, curious.

I take a breath, look him right in his eyes, and say, “I’d like a job.”