When we get to the front of the line, I take out my phone to look at the coffee order and end up ordering fourteen drinks. A couple waiting for their order asks me to take a photo with them, and Reagan takes one for them.
Each carrying two trays of drinks, we start the walk back to the bus.
“If we win, I want you to know this job isn’t gonna take me over,” I tell her. “You know how cranky I get when I don’t get to be with you for even a couple days. We get to make our own rules for this.”
She nods, her expression softening with a smile. “I like that plan. And if you win, I’d like to focus on advocacy. I don’t think I want to get another job right now.” She laughs. “Can you believe I just said that?”
“I think that sounds perfect. You can travel with me. What kind of advocacy do you want to do?”
“I’m not sure yet. Something with women’s rights, probably. That may not thrill some of your donors.”
“Makes no difference at all. I’ll be proud of you for doing what matters to you.”
The bus comes into sight, and the closer we get, the more it sets in that we won’t have many moments like this until that post-election vacation. When it’s just me and her, we’ll be too exhausted for much besides sleep.
Well,shewill. I can always manage the energy for sex with my wife.
“Babe,” I say, stopping outside the open bus doors. “We can just do one term if you want, okay?”
She smiles and nods. “We make the rules.”
I kiss her before walking back onto the bus. Finally, everything’s right. I care more about having Reagan at my side than I do about winning or losing.
But I’m gonna do my damnedest to win.
27
Reagan
Jude grabsa glass of champagne from a passing server’s tray and passes it to me.
“Drink,” he says with a wink.
I sip it gratefully, feeling more like throwing back the entire glass at once.
God, I’m nervous. The polls were running so close yesterday that we still don’t know who’s likely to win. Considering how recently I wasn’t sure I wanted my husband to be governor, it’s ironic that I’m now hoping for it with everything I’ve got.
And worse, I can’t let it show that I’m a bundle of nerves. We cleaned up and left headquarters to come to an evening election-night party put on by wealthy supporters.
It’s nice seeing the aides and interns from the campaign all cleaned up, the men showered and shaved and the women wearing makeup and fancy gowns.
I’m pretty sure that like me, they’d prefer to be scarfing down pizza from a box right now as we all hover in front of the TV making inappropriate jokes and waiting for returns to come in—but they deserve to be here. They’re taking advantage of the open bar, but Jude and I decided to stay sober.
Looks like he changed his mind about me drinking, though. I think it was a good call, because I’m about to jump out of my skin.
I’m staring at a TV monitor set up for us to watch the returns come in, and Jude takes my hand and tugs gently.
“Let’s mingle, babe. Somebody’ll let us know when it gets updated.”
I blow out a nervous breath. “Okay.”
He slides an arm around my waist, and we walk over to a group of couples. Everyone shakes Jude’s hand and asks him what his first order of business is going to be.
“Win or lose, we’re taking a vacation,” he tells them. “We’re leaving Friday morning.”
“You certainly deserve it,” one of the women says. “This has been a hard-fought race.”
One of the men, who I’m pretty sure is one of the Branch brothers, rolls his eyes. “That happens when you’re fighting a millionaire willing to spend whatever it takes.”
