Allen, Collin, and George left the hospital three days ago.
George stopped by one more time to say good-bye and give me a hug. He’d gotten a shave and a haircut and looked a lot better than he did when we were pulled off that rock. I know my men have talked with him several times, and there will likely be visits back and forth with all of us, campaigning for each other, and just sitting around as friends.
Because, comeon, the man likes Monty Python. How bad can he be?
He also privately whisperedcongratulationsin my ear as he hugged me, so I know either Carter or Owen spilled the beans to him.
Daddy doesn’t know yet, and I’m not actually looking forward to telling him.
I’m afraid he might want to make me pull from the race, and wouldn’t be shocked if he threatens to ratfuck us somehow if I refuse.
We go straight from the hospital to the airport, to an awaiting charter flight. From there to Manilla, then to LAX.
In LA, Carter and Owen roll me off the airplane and down the jetway in a wheelchair. We’re taken off first, along with Connie, and surrounded by officials, but my men refuse to let anyone else help with me or our stuff. Owen’s carrying our bags, and Carter’s pushing me. One of Connie’s sons is pushing her in another wheelchair.
We emerge from the jetway into a Customs area, where we’re processed in what is probably record time before we’re escorted out into a crowded terminal full of press, cameras, and people who explode into cheers and applause at our appearance.
Goddammit, Daddy.I don’t even have any fucking makeup on, and I look like shit.
I should haveknownhe’d do this.
I mean, yeah, Igetit. Senator Benchley Evans is nothing if not pragmatic when it comes to politics.
Still, I would have preferred a private welcome.
Carter leans in and whispers in my ear. “Sorry, pet. I asked him not to do this.”
When I catch Daddy’s eye before he’s allowed to walk over to us, I spot his wink.
Goddammit.
It’s been over seven weeks since I’ve seen my parents, and I don’t know if it’s because my perspective was forcibly shifted, or because the stress of my ordeal aged them in record time, but they both look incredibly frail compared to when I last saw them.
Owen looks about two breaths from tears. I hope Carter can figure out a way to get him alone to calm him down. Despite how aggravated I am at Daddy, I’ve given up trying not to cry as I hug him and Momma, even though I hate crying in public.
It’s emotions, it’s hormones, it’s…everything.
I’d finally convinced myself dying wasn’t the worse thing in the world, right before we were rescued.
Then my world shifted again when I found out surviving wasn’t the best news I could receive.
It’s hard to pound it through my skull that I’m going to go to sleep in my own bed in Tallahassee tonight. I know Carter won’t be able to talk Owen into returning to the mansion, either. Carter won’t have the heart to.
Neither will I.
Even the bastard extraordinaire has a soft spot or two hiding in there, somewhere, when it comes to his beloved pets.
Especially forourbeloved pet.
For the first time in my life, I’m overwhelmed by the press and the crowd. I offer a tepid smile and hold up a hand. I’m sure I look like shit without makeup, and my hair’s a disaster, but this story will lead every newscast in Florida tonight and tomorrow, and I guess I need to make it count before the news cycle spins on and leaves us in the dust.
“Thank you, everyone, for the well-wishes,” I say. “I just want to get home and get back to work. We have a state to run.”
Hopefully that will carefully straddle the line between authentic and orchestrated. I wish I’d known about this, or I’d have had Carter prepare me something to say.
He leans in and whispers in my ear. “That was perfect, sweetheart.” He kisses my cheek.
I reach up and pat his hand.
