#duh
Well, at least my ordeal accomplished a second thing—everyone definitely knowsmyname, and it isn’t Daddy’s name that’s the sub-lede in every story anymore.
It’s now a variation of “her miraculous story of survival.”
Voter turnout is astronomically higher than four years ago, both early voting and for today’s voters. By seven-thirty, a clear picture is developing. Miami-Dade hasfinallygotten its shit together for this election, with ninety-two percent of its precincts soon reporting Owen ahead by over sixty points. Hillsborough has reported ninety-three percent of its precincts, with Owen showing a fifty-point lead that only widens with every data refresh. Orange County, which is Orlando, shows eighty-nine percent of precincts with Owen already ahead by fifty-six points and growing.
Those are the biggest concentrations of voters, which means it’ll likely be gravy from this point on. We might see some chipping away at that lead, because rural areas of our state tend to trend red, but our most recent surveys showed increasingIandDvoters registered in those areas, so who knows?
By seven forty-five, throughout the rest of a state as a whole, there’s an overall fifty-five-percent reporting average from counts in progress, showing Owen ahead by over forty points and with an ever-widening gap.
At seven fifty-five, with eighty-five percent of the state’s precincts reporting, the Democrat calls and concedes. The Republican waits until MSNBC, Fox News, and CNN all call it at eight fifteen.
FNB, those dickless fucks, wait until eight twenty-five to call it, until after Duval County—Jacksonville—reports in at ninety-nine percent counted, and Owen’s handily won by over fifty-five points.
There are not enough uncounted, provisional, absentee, and overseas ballots left to count in the entirestate—including the Panhandle—which would, even if none of the votes were cast for Owen, come close to bringing another candidate into recount territory, much less overtake Owen’s lead.
Fuck you, Panhandle. Stupid time difference.
Carter puts on music. Owen’s wearing a smile as he walks over to me and offers me his hand.
“Next to Me” by Imagine Dragons starts to play through a Bluetooth speaker, and I take Owen’s hand. He helps me up off the couch, and we dance while Carter smiles and watches us, his arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the wall, his jacket off, sleeves rolled up, and tie loosened.
The handsome perv always does love watching his pets together.
Halfway through the song, Carter walks over. “May I cut in, Governor?”
Owen grins. “Certainly, Sir.” Owen’s going to hand me off to Carter, but this time, Carter take Owen’s hand and pulls him in to dance, earning us laughter and applause.
Daddy walks over, smiling, and offers me his hand. “May I have this dance, Lieutenant-Governor Evans?”
“Sure, Senator Evans.” As we dance, I watch Owen and Carter dancing. Carter’s actually letting Owen lead, and while they’re whispering to each other, I see one of those sweet smiles cross Owen’s face.
I pause to slip my phone out of my pocket and snap a picture of them like this, just for me.
“Still say you should have married Owen.” Daddy’s smiling, though, so I know he’s not really serious.
When the song ends, Carter hugs Owen, patting him on the back as he says something. Owen’s reluctant to release him, and Carter stays there, the two goofballs of mine nearly making me cry, they’re so sweet.
Or maybe that’s pregnancy hormones hitting me.
Carter starts to step away from Owen but sees me watching, and they open their arms to me.
Of course I go to them. I always will.
With our arms around each other, we stand there, just breathing in each other’s scents, feeling the warmth of the others.
Just us.
Carter moves in a little, pressing me even more firmly against Owen as he tightens his embrace of both of us.
“Mine,” he whispers, kissing my forehead. Then he looks up at Owen and smiles. “So are you,” he says.
Owen leans in and touches his forehead to Carter’s. “Love you both,” he says.
“I will killbothof you if you make me cry right now,” I growl, which cracks them up.
I’m back on the couch a few minutes later, Owen and Carter next door, when my personal phone buzzes with a text message from Daddy.
