Page 8 of The Hand Surgeon's Housewife
My eyes search for Hugo, and I find him at a table near a window that offers a panoramic view of the city below. He’s wearing a suit jacket but no tie, looking effortlessly handsome. Clean. Fresh. I’ve never had a man make my mouth water before.
When he sees me, he stands and pulls out my chair. “You look lovely,” he says, his voice deep and sincere.
My heart hammers in my chest as I sit down. “Thank you,” I manage to reply, feeling the warmth of his compliment. ”It’s one of my favorite dresses.”
Because Raymond hated it. He said it made me look like I was asking for other men’s attention. He was insecure like that, but Hugo’s all confidence.
Hugo orders wine for himself and a mocktail for me, and somehow his eyes never leave my face. The place is crowded and yet it feels as if it’s just the two of us.
“So, how have you been?” Hugo asks, his eyes never leaving mine and I love how he’s not staring at my cleavage.
“I’m managing,” I say, trying a smile. “It’s been a rough week.”
Hugo’s gaze softens. “I’m glad you decided to come tonight. You’re being very brave. I can tell this isn’t easy for you.”
“I came for you,” I admit, playing with the edge of the linen cloth. “I thought, if there’s anyone who can help me feel normal again, it’s Hugo.”
His smile makes my heart skip a beat, maybe because it’s so rare. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” he replies, ”more than I should. A patient nearly lost his middle finger because my mind kept wandering.”
I snort, choking on my drink. ”Middle finger, huh?” I snicker. ”That sounds like one of my favorite heavy metal songs.”
Hugo’s brows fly to his forehead. ”You like heavy metal?” he asks, and I nod. ”Are you sure? Isn’t that a little too aggressive for you.”
”No, I love it. It puts me at ease.”
He watches me curiously as if I’ve surprised him and I quickly change the subject. But as we keep talking, I notice there’s an undercurrent of tension, something unspoken that lingers in the air.
Finally, Hugo leans back in his chair, his eyes stroking mine. “There’s something I want to ask you,” he says, his tone suddenly serious. ”The reason why I wanted to see you.”
He places a small box on the table. My breath catches in my throat. Another gift? I open it, expecting a necklace or a bracelet. But it’s not. It’s an engagement ring. A huge one. I wouldn’t be surprised if an astronaut could see it right now.
I nearly drop the box, staring at him in shock.
“Marry me,” Hugo rasps, his eyes intense.
“I can’t,” I protest automatically.
“Yes, you can,” Hugo insists, his tone firm. “All you have to do is say yes.”
“I... don’t know,” I stammer, feeling like I’m out of breath. “This is a little sudden..”
“Say yes,” Hugo interrupts, a muscle ticking in his jaw. ”I don’t want you to go back to that place of yours tonight again. I want you to come home with me. As my wife.”
The truth is that I don’t want to go back to my place either. I want to put my old life behind and here Hugo is offering me an opportunity to do just that. If I decline, I might just be making the biggest mistake of my life.
I feel as if I’m melting under his determined gaze, my knees weak. He’s not going to take no for an answer. And the man did save me. I owe him whatever he wants from me.
“Yes,” I whisper and there it is. I’ve said it. I’m going to be his. For life.
***
Hugo
That same evening, Pamela and I arrive at the courthouse. Tension and excitement radiates between us, making my pulse race. Her white, simple dress flows around her like a cloud, but there’s a probative blush on her cheeks that makes me very well aware of the situation going on down my pants.
Her eyes flicker with a mix of apprehension and determination. I didn’t think she’d actually say yes and I feel like I have to lasso the moon and yank it down for her, in return. The moment is surreal, but it’s happening. We’re getting married.
Pamela’s hand is trembling in mine, and I give it a reassuring squeeze. Our eyes meet, and sparks go off between us.