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“Any changes?” he asked.
“No, not one.”
I tried to smile, despite the tears. It was a bit like attempting to walk and chew gum at the same time, only ten times harder.
It was warm in his embrace. Calm and comforting. It was beginning to feel a lot like home.
“Hungry?”
My stomach rumbled, as though reacting to the word. We’d skipped breakfast and had an early lunch, creating that confusing between-meal void, where you were hungry but weren’t sure if you should eat or not. Not that Hugo seemed to mind that much. He generally seemed to eat what he wanted when he wanted, whether it was one of his regular meal times or not.
Food always tasted stronger after crying. There must have been something about a good hard cry that cleansed the pallet, leaving things open for new experiences. A new beginning.
It was a team effort. Matilda wouldn’t be on again for a few hours, so the kitchen was all ours. Rather than trying to one up each other or claim our territory, we came together in the spirit of unity. The connection between us, there from the beginning in a more subtle form, was stronger than it had ever been. It was almost as though we knew what the other needed before being asked. The process of cooking becoming like a dance.
Like magic it appeared. A meal possibly too big for just the two of us, laid out on the table in a flash.
Like a proper gentleman, Hugo pulled out my chair and pushed it back in.
“I have something to ask you,” I said, deciding just to get it over with.
Before I could get another word out, his phone pinged. Like a reflex, Hugo went for it., barely stopping himself in time. He looked at me with a questioning gaze.
“Go ahead.”
He took out his phone, holding my hand at the same time. He looked like he was expecting bad news. Either from me, or the text. Probably both. It could be hard to tell with his sort of poker face.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“Bad news?”
“I’m sorry. Yes. One of the others I was considering. She - she’s not happy that she wasn’t the one I picked. She says she’s going to expose us. More specifically me, and my February tradition.”
“But it’s not…it’s not like that anymore,” I objected, “Right?”
“Still won’t stop her. Particularly not with the speculation already going around. I really hoped they would have forgotten all about me by now. Most probably have, but this kind of scandal is exactly the sort of thing to get the wolves at the door.”
“Ok…so we have to tell them. Tell everyone. Tell them we’re together and very much in love. The truth, or at least a version of it, is that I’m your girlfriend and we’ve been working on a special project. No need to go into the exact chronology.”
It all went so fast. Moving from the dining room to the office as though by teleportation. Hugo’s Zoom account had all the needed contacts. Save for one which had been intentionally excluded. Within the hour, we had every other member of the Boucher Books staff, along with the manager of the printing company and a few key stores on call. Looking at us expectantly from their screens.
“We are sorry to bother you all at this awkward time of day,” Hugo said, “but Vega and I have an important announcement to make. We have finished my next novel. It should be ready to go into final edits early next month. Also, we are very much in love and will be getting engaged.”
It took every ounce of my strength to smile and not show my shock. There was a chorus of congratulations, as well as excitement from the gathered number. The gambit worked. Everyone knew about us, though on our terms. Or at least Hugo’s. Not that they, or indeed the media, were likely to pay much attention with the excitement of his new novel going around. Either way, any plans to expose us had been defused.
“Engaged, you say?” I asked hoarsely when the screen had gone blank and the microphone was off, “When did that happen?”
“Spur of the moment. Probably a bit of a shock for some of them too, I’d imagine. I was something of a bad boy, in my younger days. A ‘player’ you might say. But I’ve put that behind me now. I only want you, Vega. And I would very much like to make you my wife, if you will have me.”
“Of course I will,” I laughed, my head spinning, “Granted, I would have preferred you got down on one knee and asked directly but it’s the thought that counts. So, how shall we celebrate?”
“I can think of a few ways,” he said, stroking my thigh, left mostly bare by the dress I’d been forced to don due to a lack of other options.
