And then I fell in love with Owen. How could I ever choose between them?
That’s when Carter made me a promise—that I wouldn’t have to choose.
Ever.
All I had to do was trust him.
When I look at the bigger picture, I honestly think I got the best deal. Owen likely never would have run for office—anyoffice—if it hadn’t been for Carter. What we’ve accomplished was never part of Carter’s original plan that he secretly formulated before they met me.
Not really.
Carter never would have plunged into the world of Florida politics the way he did if it hadn’t been forme.
Yes, Owen had a wishful-thinking kind of dream about maybe being governor, one day. But even he’ll tell you he considered it a pipe dream. That he didn’t have the drive or determination to go for it, even though he longed to help people.
Carter, however, saw through him, and realized he absolutely could get Owen elected, once they met me.
Iwantedto be governor, and Carter saw that immediately. Not like I hid it. But he also knew it would be easier to get Owen elected first.
Carter sacrificedeverythingfor that goal, forme. He sacrificed being able to love his boy and his pet in relative obscurity. All because he knew Owen’s biggest wish was to makemehappy.
Could wenothave pushed Owen to run, and ended up staying in the private sector? Sure.
Except Carter also knew I’d never be happy settling for a simpler life like that, even though, had Carter asked it of me, I probably would have agreed to it by the time I realized how much I loved these two men.
Owen was content to be carried along in my current, following me and Carter in our wakes. As a result he’s now governor, but he’s lost all privacy, lost the ability to flop into bed with us at the end of a long day, or to curl up with us on the couch and unplug, with his head in my lap and his feet in Carter’s and simply…be.
Lost the peace of mind coming home every day gave him.
He’s lost the freedom to be Carter’s boy—and mine—whenever he wants.
Lost the ability to speak or even live freely, in that he now has to worry if someone’s got a cell phone camera pointed at him any time he’s outside the confines of his private residence, or ours.
No more runs to our favorite tap house in Hyde Park to have flights of craft beers, drinking to the point we’re all giggling and laughing before we take an Uber home, pawing at each other in the backseat the whole way, Carter pulling each of us in for long, deep kisses without a care who sees us.
No more intimate dinners for three at our favorite steakhouse, tucked in the corner booth we love and able to play footsies with each other.
No more casual strolls through the grocery store together with us laughing and joking about nonstandard uses for phallic-shaped foods.
They’ve done all of this forme, with no guarantee we’ll be able to make it all the way. I have no illusions, either. If I don’t get elected the first time I run for governor, I’m not going to make some pitiful repeat attempt in four years. That’s just pathetic. I’ll have already moved on to bigger and better things by then.
These two men love me, and love each other. Maybe some people would rightfully criticize Carter for how and why he brought the three of us together, but you’ll never hear me or Owen complain about that.
What we have is perfect, perfectlyus, and perfectforus.
But back then we were kids, and we laughed and loved and planned.
And I remember the day I first laid eyes on the two of them as if it were yesterday.
* * * *
When I wake up that Monday morning for my first day of college, I’m filled with excitement. I have a load of classes I’m eager to dig in to, starting with Florida Politics & Government. Daddy warned me over the phone last night to try to keep an open mind, listen, and learn, even when I know more than an instructor.
In some of these classes I’m already sure, based upon the curriculum and syllabus, that I know more than the instructor.
I start my first year at USF Tampa a year and a half ahead with credits earned through dual-enrollment. The only reason I don’t already have a two-year college degree is that I spent my freshman year of high school in Tallahassee, working as an intern to state senator Marlene Samuels. The sixty-two-year-old—at that time—had energy and enthusiasm to spare, and she ran my ass into the ground.
I learned so much from her. It was her last year in office, and she was the reason I knewIcould run for office. It wouldn’t surprise me if her daughter, ShaeLynn—who’s only two years older than me and who was, at that time, already in her third year of college and studying to be an attorney—one day ends up as President. ShaeLynn’s a force of nature, someone even more driven than I am.
