“Laur,” I gently say, “this is averycomplicated situation.”
“Not really, Kev. You sleeping with her, or not? Either you tell me, or we’re done here, and I’m fucking hammering her with this when I interview her.”
Pain is a wicked, evil thing.
Pain mixed with jealousy even more so.
I settle on something I can live with, which won’t betray any truths directly. It’snota lie. It’sa misdirection that does the same thing, though.
“Yes, I'm gay.”
“Thenwhatthe hell is going on?”
Who did I live with for two years?” I finish the question with my eyebrows arched, meeting her gaze, letting the silence play out.
I stand there, praying she still feels enough love and loyalty for me to give me a chance.
At first confusion, then understanding fill her gaze. When her hands dropto her sides, I finally draw in a relieved breath.
I wait her out.
“Oh,” she whispers.
I press, taking advantage of her weakness and hating that I’m manipulating her like this.
Except…Ihaveto. “And, yes, the people who need to know—know. There is an…arrangement. For…reasons.” None of that is a lie. “You know yourself sometimes, people need…cover. More than one person in this particular equationneeds cover, for a variety of reasons. I love you, honey. I’llalwayslove you. If you still love me, and consider me a friend,pleasedon’t go down that road in the interview. It’s beneath you. Grill her on foreign policy. Go after her on military spending or tariffs or trade. Crucify her on her voting record. Bring your A-game and hit her hard, butplease, Ibegyou, don’t gothere. Becausesheisn’t the one you’ll hurt if you do.”
Lauren’s processing, she’s still obviously…confused. So it her takes a little longer to formulate the ask than she normally might.
“I want full access, if she wins.”
I nod. “Done. First interview after she’s sworn in. Day after the inauguration.”
“And cameras inside the day of following her and her husband for candid shots.”
“I’d have to clear thatwith Secret Service first. I will ask, but I can’t promise that. Iwilltry to make it happen, though. Or something like it.”
She eyes me, studying me, her gaze narrowing. “Wait…”
Shit.
“He’s from Florida, too, isn’t he?”
Hidden cameras and mics have taken people down before. While I’d like to believe Lauren wouldn’t do that to me, who’s to say someone else wouldn’t? “He, who?” I ask whilemeeting her gaze head-on.
She cocks her head at me. “Really, Kev?”
I need a couple of breaths to buy me time. “Sweetie,” I slowly say, “I have security clearance now. I am a presidential candidate’s campaign manager, and very possibly soon to be the White House chief of staff. There are things I cannottalk about for a variety of reasons, professionally and personally. Some being that I havetrusts I cannot break.”
“Not even for me?”
“I wouldn’t talk about yours. I havenevertalked about yours.”
That wounds her—I see it in her eyes. She props her hands behind her, on the edge of her desk, and leans against it to study me. “Have I ever…” she slowly starts, “been made…awareof…your current…partner’s…previouscontact with you?”
“Between Kev and Laur?”
She nods. “I need to know.Forme. I won’t bring it up in the interview.”
