Catnip [romance]

British Shorthair

Freya stared up at the famed Japanese restaurant she and Hugo had arrived from the window of the Mercedes she was in. Hugo had pulled up and the valet opened the door for her first. Hugo passed the key of the car to the same valet and headed out of the vehicle, walking beside Freya as they entered together.

Hugo kept a protective arm near her, never touching, as if he knew she wouldn't like it if it were otherwise. His name was given to the maître de maison who then led them to a table that must have been more expensive than the other seats around them since it was away from prying eyes. Hugo pulled out a chair for her which she graciously accepted since it was what a well-mannered lady would do, and basic manners were what he was only going to get tonight.

"It's been two months since you left me with an empty house, Freya. How have you been?" He asked as if it was nothing. A waiter came to fill up their flutes with Riesling red wine to clear their palettes before trying any foods tonight.

"I've been doing fine, thanks for asking." She kept it short and simple as she skimmed through the menu that had been given, not wanting to dwell so much on a lot of things.

"Out of all the places in the world that you could have ran away to, you chose to come back to New York City. I guess it was easier than expected to find you here. You're well-known in this city. People willingly showed me where you could be. It wasn't until I was invited to your birthday party that I had finally encounter you within a week." He told her.

"Yes, I've heard." She responded with a straight face as she glanced up at him. The waiter had arrived to take their orders, which she quickly decided on while Hugo simply requested for the same that she was having. Soon, they were left alone again. She looked into his eyes, searching for anything that could help in predicting his next move.

"You've changed a lot. I prefer the way you were." Hugo started as he scrutinized her posture, outfit and facial expression.

All of a sudden, she could feel a crack in the dam of emotions as those sentences started to bring memories of when they were together. Her eyes snapped to the table, not meeting his gaze.

"So how have you been for the past couple of months?" He continued, trying to break her shell.

"It's been fine." She replied in a clipped tone.

"Well, it hasn't been fine for me."

She paused. "It's normal to take some time to get over it. Hopefully, you have."

"I haven't. Do you think that you leaving without a trace would not affect me?" He shook his head in disapproval. "I knew you always had a tendency of running away."

"That was the first time I ever left you." She whispered.

"That was selfish of you to leave me with an empty house when I gave everything. What had I not given you, huh?" He said in a stronger, low tone.

"Space."

"Didn't you already have space back in London?" He quirked an eyebrow. "Whenever you went out, that was me giving you space."

The food came and silence prevailed, but the atmosphere between them was so tense that a knife could slice it down to the core. The waiter who handed them their food seemed to have noticed and decided not to say much and quickly left to attend to others.

"I'm going to get straight to the point here, Hugo. I want to do this civilly since now that you live in New York, we'll be bound to see each other again." Freya looked at his face, but not into his eyes. "I'll admit, leaving you without a trace was a bad move and that I should have talked it out with you and decide whether I should stay or not. So now, I'd like to tell you the reasons why I left you and do this properly."