“But Jude didn’t touch that woman. I know him.”
“I don’t believe for a second that he did. But there’ll be more accusations, and then there are the people trying to buy him off. It never ends.”
I nod, closing my eyes and breathing in the ocean air. “I thought that if it wasn’t me holding office—if it was Jude, whom I believe in with everything I am—that it would be easier.”
“It’s hard to see someone you love dragged through false accusations. Worked into the ground.”
“It is. But I love him. And public service is where his heart is.”
My mom’s eyes flood with emotion. “Just don’t forget that it matters where your heart lies, too. It matters every bit as much.”
She puts her arm around me, and I lean into her. It’s been a long time since I considered what I really want. I’m part of a “we” instead of a “me” now, and Jude is my whole world.
But if he’s my world, don’t I have a right to want more of him than I’m getting? To not want to share him with so many people?
Passionate nights together have become a stolen luxury, but why? I need to find a way to talk to my husband, but there’s a major communications barrier thanks to his security team.
I want to tell Jude it’s not that I want more, but that I want less. Less of everything that isn’t just him and me. My mom’s cancer scare and our conversation today reminded me that life can be short.
I never want to look back and wish we’d set aside career goals to focus on the only thing that truly matters—us.
22
Jude
“Jude,did your wife leave you because of the accusations against you?”
A reporter jams a microphone in my face, and I silently glare at him. His eyes widen as I stare him down.
“I’m late to a meeting with constituents.” I put my hand on the microphone and ease it away from my face. “Excuse me.”
“Jessica Culbertson says you tried to pay her off so she’d rescind her allegations against you. Is that true?”
I stop walking, conscious of the cameras filming me. My instinct is to tell this guy to fuck off, but I can’t.
“No, it’s not true. Beyond the photo taken at a rally with Miss Culbertson that’s been circulating, I’ve never seen or spoken to her.”
“The photo where you touched her inappropriately?” A female reporter arches her brows at me in challenge.
“I did no such thing.”
“What does your wife think about the new photos showing you in a hotel room with another woman?”
I hide my amusement at the continuing assumption that it’s another woman in those photos. “My wife and I are good. I’ll let her know you guys are concerned about her, though.”
“Is it true you’re getting advice from your father-in-law, Stan Preston?” a reporter I can’t see barks out.
“Guys.” Tyson intervenes, putting an arm out to hold back the reporters. “He’s late for a meeting with constituents. Let him through.”
My meeting is with a group of environmentalists. When I walk into the room, several are already fired up.
“I’ll vote for Big Bird before this guy,” I hear a guy mutter to someone next to him as I walk by.
So, it’s not exactly a friendly crowd. But that’s okay. I represent everyone in the state of Illinois, and that means I’ll never stop listening to them.
“Thanks for coming, guys.” I slide into place behind the lectern and take the bottle of water Tyson passes me. “I figured we could just go right into questions.”
“Why was the media barred from this meeting?” a woman demands from the front row.
