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bit of it and never saw it from the outside.”

“You don’t sleep?”

“Not for a while, although lately it feels I’ve done more of it than I have in like the last year combined.”

“What changed?”

“You.” I admitted, “I can’t quite explain it.”

Her warmth enveloped me once again as Vega kissed me tenderly, filling me with a sense of peace and calm.

“I love you,” I finally said, the words coming naturally.

“I know.”

Chapter Thirteen - Vega

The end was near. There were only twenty pages left. Even though I had a good idea how the story would end, I was still dreading its arrival. Part of the problem with powerful prose. It felt real. Even more so than television, which seemed odd.

Despite the realism of things like television or film, there is always a disconnect. Maybe it’s something about the audience knowing, at least subconsciously, what is really going on. Actors, reciting lines in front of a camera. Particularly if the actors were exceptionally bad or the shot composition especially clumsy. The sudden appearance of boom-mics was the bane of any amateur production.

Text had no such tells. There was no major immediate distinction in terms of the actual pages between a history text and a fantasy novel, except in how the exact words were used.

Which can be gotten around. As in cases of creative non-fiction in which true events are presented in a creative way, and novels which go out of their way to feel like realistic accounts. Especially when based on real life, it can be easy to engage with the characters and events on an emotional level.

Knowing the real story behind Hugo’s novel made it sadder, while also adding to the imperative to get it right. It was his goodbye letter to Delphine. I was honored he had trusted me with it.

“Fuck,” I choked, putting down the manuscript.

My fingers pressed hard, willing the tears not to come. I didn’t know if it would work but figured it was worth a try. I didn’t want to cry in front of Hugo. I didn’t want him to think he’d made me sad. He had, but not in the way he thought.

“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

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