“Are they back yet?” Myla asks.
Shit.
I opt for simple. “They’re not back yet. Once they are, I’ll make sure they say hi.”
Chris walksin—better late than never—and kisses me before walking around the table to greet the kids. “Hey, how was school today?”
“Our class made cards because of Aunt Lauren,” Ivy says, opening her backpack.
Ohhh…shit.
They’re condolence cards for the White House in general, which is both incredibly sweet and also a tear-jerker I don’t need right now.
I meet Jasmine’s gaze and she mouths, “Sorry.”
I could’ve done without this. I force a smile. “That was very sweet of them.”
Note to self—write a personalized thank-you note for their class.
I make myself stay there with them for my usual time before I excuse myself and return downstairs, where I lock myself in my private bathroom and silently sob.
I can’t do this without Kevin. I feel weak and horrible and guilty and selfish, but Ineedhim.
And that both scares me and infuriates me. I had an eighteen-year Senate career without him. I got myself elected three times without him. I passed the bar and did all sorts of things in my life, all sorts of accomplishments, without Kevin’s help.
Why isthistaking me out at the knees?
I clean up and return to my study to get some more work done.
I’m about to head upstairs to sit throughdinner with Chris and the kids—not that I feel hungry, because I don’t—when Leo appears in my study doorway.
My heart races, and I’m already up and moving, intent upon going to Kev’s office, when Leo intercepts me with an outstretched arm. “He’s not here, ma’am,” he softly says.
I also realize Leo looks like hell, and I’m pretty sure he’s dressed in the same clothes he wore to the funeral yesterday.
“What?”
“He went to the townhouse.”
Some cranky toddler buried in my soul wakes up howling for her blanky and a cookie and her favorite stuffy, and I slam the door shut on it. “Is he okay?”
Leo shakes his head. “He’s going to take a couple of days off. He’s already told Ben.”
Leo has very deep, expressive brown eyes. In the right light, they hold flecks of amber and green and even greyishblue. Right now they look dark, worried, with russet tones.
I step back and motion him inside and to close the study door behind him. Once I know our privacy is assured, I say it. “When’s someone going to tellmewhat’s going on? I shouldn’t have to learn about this second-hand. Why didn’t you call me?”
“Because I literally didn’t have any privacy to call you, ma’am. He’s not doing well.”
“Then he needs to behere, withus, where we can take care of him.”
“He won’t do that, ma’am.”
“Why not?”
“Because of the optics. You havenoidea. Right now, every eye is on him. You haven’t been checking the news today, have you?”
“You know I don’t, unless something’s breaking I need to see.”
