Chapter 65

By the time I make it into the office, the whole place is buzzing about my opinion piece on Miles. It’s even made national news headlines, where newscaster of various companies and networks breakdown my points one by one. Many give credit to my insight.

I try not to let it go to my head.

Yet before I can even sit down, Lila’s sharp voice calls out from her office. “Esther! In here! Now!”

I leave my bag at my desk and head into her office. I don’t bother sitting. She’s never offered me to, and I doubt I’ll be able to relax with her tone like that.

“Close the door,” Lila says.

My nerves start to prickle. Something I’m not going to like is definitely happening here. But, since Lila is still technically my supervisor, I do as she asks and close the door.

As soon as I do, she throws a sheet of paper at me. Catching it, I look down. It’s my anonymous opinion piece, printed out.

“Tell me the meaning of this,” Lila says.

What does she mean? “It’s an opinion piece about Miles Hamilton.”

“Don’t feed me bullshit, Esther,” Lila grumbles. “I want to know why this was submitted anonymously and not just handed to me like everything else you write.”

My stomach drops and I go pale. Oh, shit. She knows I wrote this. Is it really so obvious?

“Don’t give me that look or think to lie to me,” Lila says. “I’ve been reading your work since you started. This has the same style and the same inflection. Same vocabulary. You are the writer, I’m not an idiot.”

Lila only knows my style and my inflection because she’s stolen it all and put her name on top of it.

Maybe that’s what she is really worried about? Now that she’s stolen my style, she thinks someone will think this anonymous opinion is hers.

“You wouldn’t have published something like this,” I say. There’s no sense in denying it’s me. I’d only be embarrassing myself.

“You’re damn straight I wouldn’t have. Opinion pieces are not for legitimate reporters to write. We are supposed to be objective. When you take sides like this, it reflects poorly. No one will be able to trust your judgement when it comes to this man.”

Trust my judgement? Or trust hers?

I bite back the words, calming my soul by remembering what Kimberly said. Lila has been making mistakes. Soon, she’ll have made one too many.

Keep your head up, she said. That’s what I intend to do.

“Get the hell out of my office,” Lila says. “And never write this trash again? Do you hear me?”

I don’t verbally answer. I simply turn toward the door and step out of it.

Keep your head up, I tell myself again and again throughout the day, even as I start to feel down. Lila’s upset might have been misdirected but that doesn’t mean that she wasn’t right in some sense.

My high opinion of Miles does cloud my judgement. I’ll have to work very hard to make sure I can keep it from seeping into my other articles.

If Hugo finds out that I was the one to write the opinion…

Would he fire me for my lack of objectivity?

Maybe I shouldn’t have written it. I wanted to help, but…

Maybe the person I should have been looking out for was myself.

I drag myself through the rest of the day. Lila shoots me dirty looks whenever she gets the chance but doesn’t otherwise call me out.

When it’s time to leave, I make it to my car. Then, suddenly, my phone starts to ring. It’s Miles.

“Hello?” I ask, immediately answering.

“There’s my champion,” Miles says, a smile in his voice.

“Oh, please don’t call me that,” I say.

“I’m not wrong, am I? Who else could have written that eloquently? I know it was you, Esther.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe keep it under wraps…”

The downward lilt of my voice must put him on alert. His smile fades and he sounds more focused.

“What happened?”

It’s not fair for me to unload all of my problems onto Miles. The man, so newly into his presidential run, undoubtedly has his own share of troubles and concerns. He doesn’t need to take mine on too.

But he’s so easy to talk to. I lose myself, speaking with him. It’s like we’ve been friends forever, when really we barely knew each other.

Well, outside of the physical. I could vividly remember every square inch of his body. All of his toned muscle…

Shaking my head, I refocus. Now is definitely not the time for a fantasy.

Instead, I share with him what happened with Lila. He listens closely when I begin, but scoffs when I start to put myself down for being too subjective.

“You are a reporter but you are also a person,” Miles says. “You aren’t some robot. You are allowed to have opinions and feelings.”

“I need to be objective…”

“In your writing, not in your life.”

He has a point. I can’t change being a person with beliefs. I can strive to keep it out of my professional work, but I am still going to privately support who I want to support.

This is one of the reasons that talking with him is so damn alluring. He makes everything seem so simple.

“Hugo might fire me if he finds out I wrote this…”

“He won’t,” Miles says. “He has his own opinions, trust me.”

Yes, that is true. Hugo doesn’t like Miles, after all, but he brought none of that forward with me as the interviewer. Nor was it apparent in any of the approved questions.

“You’re new at this. Your editor has you off-balance,” Miles says, “So trust me, okay? If you can’t believe in yourself, believe in me to tell you like it is. You are a great writer and a great person, Esther. You do good work and Hugo is damn fortunate to have you on his team.”

My heart warms at Miles words and his support.

“Thank you,” I tell him.

“No more doubting yourself,” Miles says.

“Okay,” I say. I want to be confident, like him, but it’s difficult sometimes.

“Good,” he says. His voice shifts again, becoming lighter, teasing. “Now tell me what you are wearing…”

I laugh. He’s incorrigible.

“Not now. I’m in the car, about to drive home.”

“Too bad,” he says, but he’s laughing too.

Just like that, I think of what Cynthia said this morning.

Miles’s unrequited love is with me.

In moments like this, I can almost believe it, with Miles being so sweet and so funny. He’s teasing me to lift my spirits and make me smile. Garnar never did anything like that.

Yet I hear Amber’s words too. She believes Miles is just being kind. She could be right. Miles is a kind, charismatic man. It’s possible he treats all his acquaintances like he treats me.

Though I pray not. Thinking of him fooling around with other women ties my stomach into knots.

It shouldn’t. I have no claim over him. But I still don’t care for the thought.

Maybe I should just ask him. Wouldn’t that solve everything? If it’s me, I’ll know. If it’s not me, I can nurse my wounds and move on.

I’m not a coward. I can face rejection.

“Miles…” I begin.

“Yeah?”

“During the interview, you talked about a woman…”

“I did.”

I swallow hard. “Who is she?”