Slowly I turn the knob, praying she doesn’t start screaming before I get inside the room. When the door is cracked just a few inches, I catch a glimpse of her.
She’s hunched over the desk, holding her head in her hands and sniffling.Oh God, she’s crying.It’s my fault. I’m the cause of her sadness, and it guts me.
We were both fools for not thinking ahead. Of course, a political debate is going to get nasty. It’s cutthroat.
She doesn’t hear me enter over her muffled sobs or the click of the door as it closes behind me. My hands are balled into fists, and I want to kick my own ass for hurting her.
“Reagan,” I say, my voice almost a whisper.
Slowly she lifts her head and locks eyes with me in the mirror. “Jude,” she whispers and stifles her tears. Her beautiful face is covered in streaked mascara, which is made worse when she wipes her cheeks with her fingertips. The sadness in her eyes morphs, and her gaze turns icy. “I don’t want to see you.”
Stepping forward, I keep my eyes pinned on her. “We need to talk.”
Her body stiffens when I’m in her personal space. “No. There’s nothing left to say.”
Reaching out, I brush the tiny strands of hair that have fallen loose from her bun, and she closes her eyes and pulls away. “There are too many words to say in the few minutes we have.” She peers up at me in the reflection, but all I want is for her to turn around.
“It’s too late for ‘I’m sorry.’”
“I’m not sorry for what I said, Reagan.” My grimace isn’t lost on her. That didn’t come out exactly how it sounded in my head. “I’m sorry that they were said to you…about you.”
Her legs swing around on the tiny bench, before she’s in my face, glaring at me. “I don’t know why I thought we could get through this unscathed, Jude. I knew you were going to try to discredit me.”
There’s little space between us. Such a small amount that I can feel her body heat and the familiar pull of her body to mine.Don’t touch her—you can’t.
“I’m discrediting the candidate, not the woman.”
“We’re the same,” she tells me, slamming her open palm against my chest and knocking me back a bit. The look on her face hurts me more than her hands ever could.
It’s deserved. My behavior’s been shitty. I could’ve formed my answers differently, spared her some hurt, but people would get suspicious. Reagan and I are opponents—we’re supposed to go for the jugular.
Before she can pull her hand back, I wrap my fingers around her wrist and haul her body toward me. “I don’t care what happens on the stage or what you say in an interview, Reagan. That’s the candidate speaking—the woman who’s trying to fulfill her passion and dream. The person standing in front of me isn’t the same stuffy, uptight woman on the stage.”
Her eyes dip to where our bodies are connected and she tries to yank free of me, but I don’t let her. “You’re the same cocky asshole.”
I’m still holding her wrist, and I snake my arm around her waist and bring her closer. “Stop,” I whisper, brushing my lips against her forehead near where it meets her hairline. My eyes close, relishing the feel of her in my arms again as our hearts thump uncontrollably and in sync. “I’m sorry.”
“You hurt me, Jude. I don’t know if anything anyone’s ever said has hurt me as much as you did on that stage tonight,” she admits. Her warm breath skids across the skin of my neck, and every strand of hair on my body stands on end.
I open my eyes and lean backward, staring directly at her. “I don’t know what else to say but I’m sorry.”
Her chin starts to quiver before she closes her eyes and speaks. “This is too hard. Our text messages, the kissing, all of it.” She melts into me, hiding her face as she rests her cheek against my chest. “Sometimes I forget we’re enemies, but then it slams back into me like a ton of bricks.”
There’s nothing that has given me as much pleasure in the last weeks as I feel now, having her pressed up against me. “I know, baby.”
Her hand slides up my arm and rests on my bicep, her fingers gripping me tightly. “When I told you good-bye at the hotel, I meant it, Jude. I can’t keep doing this to myself. It’s not fair to either of us.”
“I have a solution.”
“I’m not fucking you,” she grumbles.
I can’t help but laugh. “Not that, but I wouldn’t say no if you offered.” I pause because she’s going to like my idea even less. “Why don’t you drop out?”
She tenses in my arms, and her fingernails bite into my skin. “Drop out?”
“Yeah.” It comes out casually, like we’re discussing something other than our political future. “Then we can be together.”
Her head jerks back, but she can’t get away with my arm wrapped around her middle. “Why don’tyoudrop out?” she asks through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw.
