Chapter Twenty-One
Leo is on his way up the stairs as I’m on my way down them the next morning. He smoothly pivots in mid-stride and walks with me. If you didn’t know he’d nearly died in a plane crash, you wouldn’t be able to guess.
Then again, I don’t jog, so he doesn’t have to keep up with me like that. His limp is barely perceptible when he’s walking. Anything faster, andit shows.
“Good morning, ma’am.”
“Good morning, Leo.”
“Did you eat breakfast?”
I know that question came from Kev. “What’s first on our agenda?” I sip my coffee and he doesn’t even try arguing with me.
I tried a piece of toast upstairs and nearly threw it up after the second bite, so I tossed it.
Coffee it is.
I’ve had this happen before, and Leo, Kev, and Chris have seen it, but usuallynot to this extent. It’s been years since I’ve had it this bad: when I was studying for the bar, when I ran for Senate the first time, when I ran for re-election as a senator the first time.
The morning I knew I had to kill my mother.
You know how it is.
The only thing I can do when one of these spells hits me is stay hydrated (I am) and suck it up (in progress) and keep moving (I will). Theyusually last two or three days, it’s a hard way to lose a few pounds, and then life returns to normal.
I’d rather be hungry than puke it up.
We have to formulate a new routine. I drop in on the staff meeting to say hi and note the puffy noses, red eyes, and somber expressions. It’s going to take a couple of days for it to really sink in, and Kevin’s absence isn’t helping them.
I’m sure thereare probably a few of them worried he might not be coming back, either.
After the staff meeting, Ben approaches me about some items and I almost snap his head off until I realize that he’s trying to do Kevin’s job the only way he knows how.
He knows Kev and I are close. Everyone does.
He just doesn’t knowhowclose.
I sit back in my chair and apologize. “I’m not at my best right now. Sorry.”
“It’s okay, ma’am. I understand. I don’t think any of us are.”
When Chris prepares to leave that night, after the kids are asleep, I pull him in for another long kiss. “Give that to him, too, please?”
He tucks my hair behind my ear. “I will, sweetheart. Did you ever eat anything today?”
“Don’t worry about me. Take care of our boy for me.”
He studies me for a moment, but doesn’t challenge meon my answer. After pressing a kiss to the middle of my forehead, he heads off.
I retreat to our bedroom and go to bed wearing nothing but one of Kev’s tees, the TV on and turned down.
I feel…helpless.
That’s a feeling I’m not very familiar with. My men are wounded to the depths of their cores, and there’s not a damn thing I can do tofixthis for either of them.
Worse?
Now I’m a mom, andI want to raise these children and love them and heal them, and I can’t fix anything for them, either.
