At this point I know there’s nothing more I can do. Unlike Owen, she doesn’t need me dropping her into pet mode to cope with the stress. She thrives on this adrenaline spike.
God help us if she loses.
God help everyone else if she wins.
Benchley walks over to me and nudges my shoulder, then silently points toward Susa with his glass. A glass I hope contains iced tea and not bourbon, or Michelle will take it out onmefor him drinking.
“She’s fine,” I say after glancing around to make sure no one’s close enough to hear.
He leans in. “Contingency plan if she loses?”
“Not really, no.”
That’s a lie. Of course I have one, but it’s none ofhisfucking business, Susa’s father or not.
How I runmyfamily and take care ofmyspouses is none ofhisbusiness, even if he thinks it is.
Benchley stares at me for a long moment with the blue eyes he gave his daughter. “Take care of my baby, Carter,” he hoarsely whispers. “Don’t let her burn out, please. Don’t let her becomeme.”
My irritation at him evaporates. I had completely misread him. To be fair, Benchley has never directly expressed this kind of vulnerable emotion to me, not even during those raw, desperate days when we didn’t know if she was alive or not. Days when we suspected she was already dead, even though we prayed and hoped and refused to give up.
I pat his shoulder and gently squeeze. “I’llalwaystake care of her. You have my word.”
Ethan, Dray, Gregory, and a few others who rightfully count themselves part of Susa’s trusted inner circle, have gathered around her now in front of the TV. Dray drapes an arm over her shoulders and one over Ethan’s. On Ethan’s other side, Gregory slips his arm around Ethan’s waist.
It reminds me that the three of us—myself, Susa, and Owen—aren’t the only ones in this room with secrets to protect.
That this is one of the few safe places there are in our world right now.
The cycle repeats.
It also reminds me how grateful I am to be alive, that I didn’t die in the desert that day, and to have found people who will fight almost as hard for my wife as Owen and I will.
It reminds me how grateful I am that Susa survived the plane crash and being shipwrecked. It would have crushed me to lose her, but it would have destroyed Owen in ways I likely couldn’t have helped him heal.
Ever.
I might have lost him, too.
Not now, though. He’s a father, has other reasons to live besides myself and Susa. He’s a damned good father, too. I know he’s looking forward to moving back home with me and the boys.
It also eases, in some small ways, my regrets about someone who’s not here and never can be. Someone who has to remain in my past, and I have to remain in his.
If I hadn’t made certain choices, none of us would be here tonight. I might not have my sons.
Susa might not be alive.
Owen might be miserable and unable to escape his mother for a life of his own where he discovered joy and made his dreams come true.
We’ve all had dreams come true. I suppose the price I pay for my part of that will forever remain entwined with memories of the sound of Eddie’s sobs in a dark room, and the nightmares I might never completely rid myself of.
Susa will be happy having the governor’s mansion mostly to herself, because she’ll be too busy to even notice those times when we’re not with her. We’ll make sure we have frequent photo ops so the general public doesn’t realize what’s going on. Besides, having our townhouse so close to the mansion, and the boys being so young, means that no insiders will gossip too much about us wanting to keep them in the only home they’ve ever known, away from the harsh political spotlight.
Susa’s sons willnotgrow up the way she did, and that’s byherchoice, not mine, not Owen’s.
She wants the family business to die withher.
They’ll be in middle school at the end of two terms, if she’s elected to both.
