Page 22 of HEA: Happily Ever After

As Lesya spoke, I listened with half an ear, nodding along in the appropriate places, but my gaze kept straying outside. Hugh was out in the city this afternoon getting pictures for his Real Life HEAs TikTok, and knowing him, he probably hadn’t even noticed the freezing rain, he was so damn chipper about his date tonight—“THIRD date, Oscar. Which is serious. Possibly pivotal.”—with Louis, a divorce attorney he’d been talking to for a few weeks.

On the one hand, this was a good thing. Really good. At least, that was what I kept telling myself whenever I remembered how the warm slide of his palm in mine had felt on Thanksgiving in his sister’s hospital room. Three months had passed since then, and our relationship had returned to the status quo: text only. No calling, no seeing each other.

Which was a good thing.

Really.

That was what I kept reminding myself, at least.

Hugh certainly seemed fine with it. After the Thanksgiving debacle with Terry or whatever his name was, he’d immediately jumped back into his hunt for The One with fervor, racking up a whole bunch of first dates all through December and into the new year. I hadn’t been kidding when I’d told him I thought he was brave as fuck for putting himself out there over and over again, for being determined and optimistic no matter how many frogs he kissed along the way, but sometimes I felt like he was putting unnecessary pressure on himself.

In January, after he’d hit a dry spell, he’d interrupted our terrifying, weekend-long Last of Us buddy watch to assure me he wasn’t giving up, like he thought I was the one who was worried about it. I’d told him to chill out, that the world was not actually ending in a zombie apocalypse anytime soon, that he could take his time and be selective. He’d agreed… or so I thought.

And then March had rolled around.

“Oscar?” Lesya demanded.

“Hmm?” I blinked away from the window guiltily. “Oh. Yes. Yeah. I was just… pondering that last thing you said. That’s a… a good point.”

She pursed her lips. “So you agree, then?”

“I… might.” I cleared my throat. “Run it back for me one more time?”

Lesya rolled her eyes, not fooled for a minute. “I said Jay would like to call an all-hands meeting to talk strategy. He has several ideas he’d like to run by you, but I wasn’t sure whether you were planning to handle the Titan acquisition in person?—”

“No, I’m taking care of that remotely. Tell Jay to send out the invites and put the meeting on my calendar. I have some social obligations in the city, so I’ll be around for the next few weeks, at least.”

She nodded. “I’m glad. I feel like you’ve been gone more than usual lately.”

I grunted noncommittally. While I loved traveling… I’d reached a saturation point, even for me.

I should probably have known better than to leave Hugh mostly unsupervised during hearts-and-cupids season, but I’d had a factory issue in Jakarta that required a personal touch, and our text conversations weren’t as seamless when they were happening across time zones, no matter how hard we tried. Then, a couple of friends had wheedled me into joining them on a two-week trip to the Maldives—an invitation that had not so subtly hinted at “personal touching” of a different nature, as I’d joked to Hugh, so I could hardly turn it down.

To my friends’ shock and mine though, once I’d arrived, I had turned them down. Repeatedly. I’d spent two weeks working on my tan, brainstorming a few new projects I wanted to work on in the second quarter, and wishing I was back in the city. As I’d told my friend Boone before I left, keeping up a constant string of sexual partners sometimes felt like effort. Sex was sex: always enjoyable but available in unlimited supply. There was no need to chase it like the blue-haired ladies storming the Walmart on Black Friday back in Texas. This was not—absolutely not—because I was feeling melancholy, as Boone had suggested…

A point I’d proven by setting up a night out with my friend James to have a drink and catch up. See? I could be fun and social as much as the next guy. Except it hadn’t been as fun as it usually was. In fact, in a weaker moment, I’d even found myself making a deal with James’s dilettante ex-boyfriend, Richard, that might make my ex-boyfriend Boone want to erase my name from his contacts list—not that he would, of course, since Boone was far too kind, but if Richard fucked things up badly enough as Boone’s ranch hand, the man might be tempted.

At least my texts with Hugh had gone back to normal as soon as I’d returned to the city… but with a decided twist, because while I was away, Louis had gone creeping into Hugh’s DMs, and now every day featured a new story about something Louis had said or done.

I’d learned my lesson back in November, so I didn’t say all the things I wanted to say about Louis—like, “Why the hell would a person who specializes in happily ever afters date a divorce attorney?”—but I couldn’t deny feeling… protective. Protective enough to recommend that Hugh wear his blue button-down on his date tonight, even though his green shirt did amazing things for his eyes and hugged his lean muscles, because I wasn’t sure Louis was green-shirt-worthy. Almost protective enough to send Louis a discreet message warning him that I could erase him from existence if he so much as looked cross-eyed at my Hugh.

At my friend Hugh, I mentally corrected.

“…and then I told Marigold that if we’re already investing in magic mushrooms, we should go all in on fairy tears. Sell out of all other investments, I told her. In fact, sell Oscar’s Bugatti and invest that money too?—”

“Wait.” I sat forward so quickly I nearly tipped my chair over. “What?”

Lesya sat back in her seat and smirked. “Welcome back, boss.”

“I wasn’t—” I sighed. “Fine, I might have been a bit distracted this one time. It’s just…” I hesitated. “I’ve been feeling off recently.” I shook my head, impatient with myself, and turned my gaze back to the window. “I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like I’m restless but tired of traveling. I’m bored, but the idea of planning a party or throwing myself into a hobby holds no appeal. Even work isn’t as exciting as it used to be. It’s like I’m trying to ride a bull that’s going one way while I’m aimed in the other—” I heard the words I was saying and whipped my head toward Lesya in shock. “Oh, sweet Jesus, now I’m talking in Texas cowboy-isms. What’s wrong with me?”

“Well.” Lesya pursed her lips, set her tablet on her lap, and folded her hands primly on top of it. “I don’t know for sure, but do you think this might have something to do with your sister getting engaged?”

“Stepsister,” I corrected automatically. “Hyacinth is my stepsister. And no, I assure you, I have no particular feelings about that whatsoever.” I narrowed my eyes. She knew I usually avoided commitments with my stepfamily when given the chance. “Wait, how did you know she’s engaged? I only just heard this weekend, myself.”

Lesya met my eyes. I could see the sympathy in her expression, but it was accompanied by a little bit of judgment. “Your mother called to get an appointment on your calendar because, as usual, you’ve been ducking your family’s calls and texts for days. She told me all about Dirk’s Valentine’s Day proposal and how the wedding is going to be on New Year’s Eve at your Vermont house. A ‘Flower Family extravaganza,’ she called it.”

I felt familiar dread creep up my spine. “Yes. Won’t that be lovely? All eight of my stepsiblings, their significant others, my stepfather, and my mother, converging into a perfect storm of family merriment while I stand by, trying not to get drowned in the deluge,” I said wryly. “Remind me to order an emergency case of Macallan well in advance, hmm?”

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