The thought of leaving DC without him, knowing the shape he’s in, feels…wrong.
I’m terrified to ask, but I have to. “He won’t hurt himself,will he?”
“No.” He kisses me. “No, he’ll come back to us. But after the election, he’s going to need to sort through the townhouse. She left everything to him. He’ll probably spend some time there at nights. I need you to let him.”
“Okay.”
He rolls us onto our sides. “We have about an hour before we need to get up. Let’s go to sleep.”
“Okay.”
I don’t think I’ll be able to, but there’s a littlelight peeping around the blackout curtains when I feel him sit up a while later.
We take a shower together, and I put on a brave face—no makeup—and head downstairs with my coffee. Today, I’m two steps from the bottom when Leo appears in the doorway.
“Sorry, ma’am. Good morning.”
“No apologies needed, Leo. None of us are at our best.” If I can’t have my Sir, I at least need to do him proud andput on my game face.
“How was breakfast, ma’am?”
“How was yours?” I offer him a smile before I sip my coffee.
I tried to eat a banana and ended up throwing it away after one bite. I’m sure that bite will probably sit and sour in my stomach, too. Admittedly, this is the longest stretch I’ve had this problem, but I’ve got Gatorade in the small fridge in my study, and a couple of those bottledshake things.
I’m not starving to death, I just need to let my body’s stress reaction sort itself out on its own.
I make it through the day without biting anyone’s head off or breaking down crying, even though I do walk over to Lauren’s office and stand in the doorway.
After dinner, where Chris doesn’t try to make me eat while I sit and talk to the kids, I walk back downstairs to my study toread through a couple of intelligence reports that were produced today about North Korea. It’s after nine when I startle as I realize someone’s standing in my doorway. I never heard him.
Kev’s wearing jeans and a Tampa Bay Lightning T-shirt under a denim jacket, and his name badge.
He never comes in dressed like this.
Ever.
I also realize he’s holding a takeout bag.
Without a word, he walksin and closes the study door behind him, locking it.
Then he points at the floor.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I’ve slithered out of my chair and I’m on my knees in front of him.
He takes his jacket off and sits in my chair, still not speaking. He sets out what looks like cartons of Chinese food, then he takes his name badge off and drops it on my desk before he leans back in my chair.
After a long moment, he motions with his finger, and I know what he wants.
I’m in a skirt suit. I pull my blazer off, my blouse, my bra. My shoes were already off, but I rise enough I can peel off my skirt and panties, and then I’m kneeling before him again.
Much of what and who we are is silent, reading each other, needing to conceal what we’re doing.
It’s all now part of Sir.
My heart pounding,I wait as I stare up into his blue eyes.
Eyes that are red, puffy, as is his nose.
