Chapter 118 - The White Cake

"Don't open it," Claire mutters, holding Mary's arm desperately.

"But who is it?"

There's no point in hesitating. The cat's out of the bag now. "It's Miguel."

"Miguel?" Mary blinks. "THE Miguel Tan?"

Claire nods. Outside, they can still hear him talking loudly, saying out her name. Good thing Miguel still has the good sense to look for "Bella" and not Claire, because that would have been another layer of complication.

"Oh, gosh. Is he the 'unwanted' suitor?"

Claire nods. By the table, the group celebrating Arlene's birthday have started partaking of the cake, and they look like they have been itching about discussing office gossip, but Claire's presence cramps their style.

"Are you insane, Bella Xavier?" Mary screeches while trying to keep her voice down. "This is Miguel Tan! How in the world is he an 'unwanted suitor'?"

"It's…It's complicated."

"God, there's only one string to untangle. Break up with that nobody boyfriend of yours and hook up with Miguel. Miguel is THE catch. There's no question about it. I don't understand the hesitation."

Claire sighs. Should she tell her it's Gabriel who's in the other end of the equation? Maybe not a good idea. Not now. "It's not easy to tell the heart what it should want, Mary," she says. "But I love my boyfriend, and I can't choose Miguel over him just because Miguel has these irresistible qualities that make women swoon." Sure, but if you tell her the other guy is Gabriel, then this would make sense, the other half of her brain snaps at her.

Mary gazes at her like her head has just exploded. By now the hallway outside seems to have quieted down. "The heart wants what it wants? Then I don't understand what your heart wants."

"Sorry, let's just…Let's just wait here. I don't want to face him."

"Can't you reject him to his face?"

"I did…over the phone, or something like that."

"And?"

"And he doesn't listen."

"This boggles the mind," Mary says. "Miguel Tan behaving this way? This doesn't sound like him."

"I know, right?"

"Is he on drugs?"

"I don't think so."

"Cake?" a woman from the group thrusts a paper plate brimming with a huge chunk of white cake.

"Thanks, but I'm good," says Claire.

"I'm famished," Mary says, taking the cake, and scoops the icing with her bȧrė fingers. "Thank you, Arlene! Happy birthday!"

Arlene smiles, then recoils back to her group.

Claire opens the door the tiniest bit. The coast seems clear. Miguel's no longer in sight.

"Is he gone?" Mary asks, chomping on cake. "Is the biggest catch you could have had in your life, gone?"

Claire ignores the remark. "He's gone." She sighs. But she doesn't feel relieved. She feels like choking on this thing. Like the walls are closing in, and she's stuck in the middle. She opens the door and sticks out her head to look. Yes, he's really gone. Somehow, Miguel still has the good sense to not cause a scandal. Because, really, what is he thinking? It's not like she betrayed him or anything like that. And it's not like he's an idiot who could not understand what she has been saying. Did she string him along? No, she never did. But here Miguel acts like the walking wounded.

"Thanks, Mary," she says, leaving the room.

"But Bella—" Mary says, but her words are cut as Claire closes the door behind her.

She checks Gabriel's room, which looks fine. She checks her desk to see if Miguel left something. But everything seems in order. She turns around and almost screams in horror. Mrs. Gomez is standing there, judgment on her face.

"What seems to be the matter with Miguel Tan?"

"That's what I want to know, too," Claire says.

Mrs. Gomez makes a face. She looks around as she drags Claire inside Gabriel's office to talk in private. "What is wrong with you, girl?" she scream-whispers.

Claire looks at her. "With due respect, Mrs. Gomez, but you're asking the right question to the wrong person," she says. "You should have asked that to Miguel when he was here screaming like a wounded gorilla?"

"A wounded, good-looking, and ultra-rich gorilla, is what you probably mean."

"I don't care about any of that."

"Because you have the better, richer gorilla, is it?"

"Are you my enemy, Mrs. Gomez?"

"Oh, I'm no one's enemy, Claire. I'm just trying to make sense of this, while trying to help you have your shit together." Mrs. Gomez paces the room, her arms folded in her ċhėst as though this was a war room and they're discussing military tactics. "Remember, I was your fairy godmother, although I didn't look like it and my actions were far from being godmotherly. But I was. I helped you out, even if you didn't realize it. And now this thing with Miguel, this is getting messy. You should stop this now."

Claire sighs in exasperation. "But how?"

Mrs. Gomez walks toward the glass wall, looking out the city. "There are a few things you have to learn about being an ȧduŀt, Claire," she says. "The first is how to hurt people's feelings."

"I'm sorry?"

"You've heard me right. I said hurt him."

"How do I do that?"

"Tell it to his face."

"But that's what I've been doing!"

"Tell it to his face in the most hurtful way possible," Mrs. Gomez says. "Because if you don't and you don't shock Miguel out of his ongoing funk, then there is going to be ruination, and you'll be in the middle of it."

"Jesus," Claire mutters. "I don't understand why I have these impossible problems."

"Claire, your problems are problems of a beauty queen. So don't talk like you're at the bottom of the food chain. Your problem is a problem of the privileged. People who have real problems will laugh at you."

Claire says nothing. She looks at Mrs. Gomez, she whose sense of certainty has earned the respect of the likes of Gabriel Tan. She's certain Mrs. Gomez is right, she just couldn't quite accept all the hard feelings she must face to do what must be done.

"But Miguel was fine. She used to be fine, until… I don't know…"

"Until he saw your beautiful vulnerability, Claire," Mrs. Gomez says. "Miguel is a knight in shining armor. He always saves people. But unlucky for him he fell for you. Right now his heart and mind are in a tunnel, and he's not seeing what he should see. All he sees is your face at the end of that tunnel, and all he wants is to possess you. He may be a bit better than Gabriel, but he's a Tan, after all, so expect this craziness."

"But this is too hard."

"Nothing is too hard when it comes to the truth." Mrs. Gomez smiles. "At least hold on to that. The simple fact that you'll be telling him the truth. That when you say 'I don't care about you at all', you're not really lying."

But there's the trouble. Claire cares about Miguel, but only as a friend, a good friend. She couldn't bring herself to be cruel to him. Just yesterday morning she cooked for him, and she did that with love—love for Gabriel's brother.

But then again, there's the matter of things getting out of hand. People are talking now. They wonder why the boss's usually respectable brother is acting like a crazy person. And if she doesn't find a way to knock some sense into Miguel's head, then who knows what could happen?

"Think about it," Mrs. Gomez says, leaving. "Think about it long and hard."

If only things are easier. If only she could command herself to do things without her feelings. If only.

She feels so tired she almost doesn't have the strength to even press the elevator buŧŧon. Ground Floor. Dean, her chauffer, must be at the lobby reception now, eager to please. She wonders where Miguel is right now—where would he go? What if she does agree to meet up with him? For the last time, he said. Maybe that's actually the right thing to do. All these bad things will go away if she could only do that one last thing.

The elevator door dings as it opens to a darkened lobby. And out of that darkness, a voice says, "Bella. Or Claire. Which is it? What is the truth?"