Chapter 110 - The Second Helping of Eggs

"Did you just trick me?" Michelle spits. "I came from the hospital. Gabriel had been discharged last night. You told me he was still there."

"I'm sorry, Michelle, I…"

"No, don't blame her," Gabriel stands up. "And also, there are a few things that confuse me here. For one, who told you to go and visit me at the hospital? And another, you're not supposed to come here, Michelle. We're over. You don't do shit like this anymore and pretend like we're still together. And lastly—" he gazes at Claire, who he quickly realizes is in character as Bella, with her blond wig and office attire and all. "—Lastly, I asked Bella to bring me my meds. She knew only at the last minute to bring my meds here, and not at the hospital."

Michelle's gaze ping-pongs between Gabriel and Claire, trying to ascertain the truth. Then she smiles, trying a new tactic. "I was only concerned about your well-being, Gab. Can't old friends help out each other during a crisis?"

"I don't need a 'friend' like you, Michelle," he says. "I'm sorry. But it would be a lot better for my health if I don't see you. At least not in the next few days."

"What?" Michelle scowls, her façade crumbling down. "But we have urgent matters to discuss!"

Gabriel scoffs. "Are you that dense? Can't you see I'm not in a good place right now?"

Michelle says nothing. She gestures a hand towards Claire. "And what about her?"

Gabriel's brow creases. "What do you mean 'what about her'?"

"Why is she even here? Why did you seem so physically close when I walked in?" Michelle paces the room like she owns it, much to Gabriel's irritation. "And where is that so-called fiancée of yours, that Claire What's-her-face? You were sick. She didn't even visit you? And instead I find your executive ȧssistant doing what your fiancée should be doing!"

"Stop it," Gabriel hisses. "You don't behave like this in my place. Get out. We will talk when I get back. But for now, I need peace and quiet, and I won't have it as long as you're here."

"How have you become such an evil person, Gab?"

"What? Me, evil? What in hell are you talking about?"

"You used to be so nice, especially to women," Michelle sniffles. "But now, you're always treating me like I'm garbage."

"Because you are garbage, Michelle," Gabriel says, matter-of-factly. "I don't see you as a person. So please, give us both a break and just go."

Michelle stares at him; she looks like she's a dam on the verge of exploding. But in the end, she sighs. She casts Claire a look, then quietly she walks out.

Claire looks at him. "Crazy thought. What are the chances she returns, with a revolver, and shoots us both?"

"Morbid," he says, but he heads towards the door just the same, to close it. "But people should know when to move on. I did."

But the door has not been closed for five seconds when it buzzes again. Gabriel doesn't bother to look at the visitor through the peep hole. He slams it open and yells, "Will you please get lost?"

"What did I do to deserve that?" says a surprised Miguel, who looks every inch like he just came from a salon make-over. "And why is Michelle crying like you took away her cotton candy?"

Gabriel shrugs. "I can't stand her."

Miguel sees her, who seems to be tidying up the living area. "I see you've hired a new bombshell maid, bro."

Gabriel laughs, while Claire makes a face. "He cannot afford me," she says. "That's why this service is free."

Miguel turns to Gab. "I just thought of checking up on you. How are you doing?"

"Fine. She brought me my meds. I got a little woozy after taking a bunch of those pills, but generally I'm fine."

"That's good to hear," Miguel says, his eyes upon Claire across the room. There's a surge of excitement in his heart upon seeing her. What is it about this woman? Why was he able to give away Michelle Alcantara years ago, but he can't seem to move on from Claire? The truth is, he had come here expecting to find her. He cares about his brother, but he knows Gabriel is fine; he only wants to get a glimpse of her, who is currently busy picking up stuff from the floor or fixing the orientation of some gigantic porcelain vase in a corner. She looks to be pretending to be busy. And pretending to be busy, in Miguel's book, is a sign of overcompensation—his brother and Claire must have been fooling around a few moments before Michelle appeared. And realizing that, in a space of a few seconds, made Miguel cross the entire spectrum from gladness to despair. "So is Claire staying here? Or do you want me to call up your butler?

"Well, I'm not sure," Gabriel says, really wishing Claire chooses to stay. The room phone rings, and Gabriel goes to answer it.

Miguel follows Claire to the kitchen. He finds her cleaning up the dishes.

"You're too beautiful to be his chambermaid," he says, sitting on the stool by the counter.

She laughs. "I cooked him eggs for breakfast. He left so sudden this—" she stops. Should she tell this story to Miguel, of all people? That Gabriel stomped out of her suite in a fit of fury because of that bathroom prank? Maybe not. "What about you?" she says, changing the topic. "Would you like to eat?"

"I've had nothing but ersatz coffee by the roadside," he says. "I'll gladly have anything you'd give me."

"How about French toast?"

"What did you cook for Gabriel?"

"Uhh, eggs Benedict. Why?"

"Can I have the same?"

"Wow, what a demanding customer," she says, shaking her head slightly. But even so, she's quickly working to prepare his request; after all, Miguel was nice to her at the hospital. Maybe this is the only way she could repay him.

"I'd just like to enjoy what my brother enjoyed this morning," Miguel says, looking at her with meaning.

She avoids looking at him. Instead, she focuses on what she's doing: whipping up the hollandaise sauce, while making sure the bacon is fried at just the right crispness. The eggs are a bit tricky to cook perfectly for this dish, but Claire has her egg poaching skills down pat, thanks to her mom, who had let her prepare breakfast even as a child growing up.

"Are you going back to the office?" he says.

"Yes, I should." Claire deftly puts the bacon and eggs on the open-topped halves of a muffin, taking care not to ruin the presentation. "Maybe after I have served you your eggs, Your Highness."

Miguel laughs. "This is mad skillz, Claire. You cook well. Maybe one of these days you can let me taste some more of your culinary specialties."

She shrugs. "Maybe. If we have time." She dribbles some Hollandaise sauce over the eggs. "There. Taste it."

"I've already tasted it in my heart."

She grimaces. "Stop being corny and actually put this food in your mouth, Miguel, while it's still warm. I have a culinary reputation to uphold."

"Okay, okay," he says playfully, upraising a hand. He forks a morsel into his mouth, and immediately Miguel's face contorts in ecstasy. "My God, my mouth just had an ȯrġȧsm," he says, shoveling more into his mouth and making short work of Claire's eggs Benedict. "I've never thought eggs can be this tasty!"

"Well, my mom is an expert. She has tasted a lot of eggs so she knows how to handle them."

Miguel chokes as he tries not to laugh; the image of Claire's mom with a lot of eggs flashes in his mind for some reason.

The food is gone in minutes. "Can I have more?"

"Sorry, I only have time for that serving," Claire says, smiling this time.

They overhear Gabriel getting a bit animated over the phone. "Must be his vice presidents again," Miguel mutters, shaking his head. "He should just fire all of them and replace the whole bunch with actually competent ones."

"Why do you say so," she says, as she cleans up the counter.

"Either that or one of these ȧssholes betrayed my brother," he says. "I don't believe they didn't know Michelle owned that company they merged with."

"That's my gut feeling, too," she says. "But I don't feel like it's my place to tell him."

"Well, you got in here because he trusts you," he says. "Next time something nags you from within, spill it out. Never mind the consequences. Knowing my brother, he'd appreciate the honesty." Miguel stands up. "Maybe I should head out. Aren't you going, too?"

"I am," she says, as they walk out into the living area.

Gabriel is pacing the room, speaking animatedly to whoever is the poor chap on the other end of that line. Miguel just makes hand signals to him, indicating he's going out. Gabriel nods vigorously, but when he sees Claire going out, too, he puts the phone against his ċhėst. "You're leaving, too?"

"There are some pending stuff at the office," she says. "And I need to appease the dragon lady, see what she's up to."

Gabriel nods. "That's brilliant. Thank you for the eggs—"

"—Fantastic eggs!" Miguel says from the door.

Did she serve Miguel eggs, too? But Gabriel has no time to further explore the question. "Okay, if you're leaving, what about a goodbye kiss?"

Claire kisses him. Miguel turns away, unable to bear watching it. "Take care of yourself here, Mr. Tan," she says. "See you later."

"Couldn't wait," he says, grinning. But all his elation vanishes when he resumes speaking on the phone.

They're already walking on the hallway but they could still hear Gabriel's voice, rising and falling depending on his temper. "He'll never change," she says.

"He is what he is," Miguel says. "Let me drive you back."

"Oh, Dean's waiting for me."

Miguel's is momentarily confused. "Who's Dean?"

She laughs. "The chauffeur. Remember?"

"Oh," he says. "But you can tell him you're with me and—"

"Don't bother, Miguel, I can manage," she says, tapping him on the arm.

The elevator descends. Floor by floor by floor. Miguel gazes at the numbers. "I'm going to your office, anyway. It would be more efficient if I'd drive you."

She says nothing. She just smiles. When the doors slide open, she simply says, "See you later then?"

Then off she goes to wherever Dean must be parked. Miguel watches her walk away. He realizes that lately, all he seems to do is watch Claire walking away from him. When would be the time when he'd see her walking towards him, and settling in his arms? Maybe not. Never. Leave her alone, he tells himself as he walks toward his parking spot. "Leave her alone. She's your brother's woman," he actually says out loud as he eases into the driver's seat of his Aston Martin. But the other half of his brain wants him to scream, "I'm dying in this pain, Claire! I want you with all my heart!"

A car stops right beside him. The window slides down. "You drive safely, okay?" It's Claire, her face, her sweetness almost makes him say, "Why don't you choose me, instead? Why can't you love me?" But he keeps it all inside. Instead, what he says is, "Yeah, you too." He even smiles the fakest smile. "See you later, okay?"

She smiles. The car drives away, leaving him holding the straps of his seatbelt, the fake smile frozen on his face, inside his fancy sports car, sitting still like the world's biggest loser idiot.