I lived alone for twenty-plusfucking years. How do you think I got clean briefs?
I takecareof my boy, and my girl. And now our kids. I’m still trying to find my footing in that last role, because I was used to being the fun older uncle, and now I’m the caretaker and the disciplinarian. I try to schedule my time so I’m home as much as possible, I sit and do homework with them nearly every day, and I have them help me cookdinner and do the dishes with me.
Shae and Kev set her schedule so she’s eating dinner with them almost every day, when she’s home. Kev joins us, too. He’s Uncle Kev to them.
We’ve already discussed, the three of us, that there needs to be a conversation about that, too. They’re young, the girls just turned eight and Hudson’s five. We need to instill in them the need to maintain our privacy,not talking about us and our relationship, and that we have an unusual dynamic.
Because once Shae’s out of office, whether it’s in a few weeks or four more years, the three of us are together for life.
There’s only so much I can do for him at the townhouse. I’m sure he’ll wake up, see it, and feel guilty, and I don’t care. I’ll talk him out of feeling that way later.
He’s my boy.
If I can’tpublicly claim him right now, at least I canshowhim how I feel, my language of love to him.
I send a text to the head of my detail to give them a five-minute heads-up that I’m almost ready to leave. I would stay all night and all day, if I could, except I have a schedule to keep tomorrow, I have to think of the kids, and Prophet would never forgive me for totally ignoring the optics of thepress catching me leaving the townhouse in the morning when Shae’s at the White House and not here. The deaths of my brother and Lauren have given us a brief PR respite so there’s not wild-assed conjecture swirling around us. We’re friends, it’s a trying time, and ofcoursewe’re going to comfort each other.
But it can’t last, and one careless optic could bring it all down.
In the kitchen, Ileave Kev a sticky note on the counter, where I lay out his favorite mug and a spoon next to the coffeemaker.
LU,b
S.
We have lots of shorthand codes we’ve come up with over the past several years, which we use in text and in writing. This way, if someone ever gets their hands on something, they’re left with nothing they can use against us because they have no clue what it even means.Or if they have a clue, they have no proof.
Love you, boy.
Sir.
After prowling through the townhouse one last time to check doors and windows, I set the alarm, let myself out, and lock up. Agents are standing there, waiting for me, and escort Priest back to Stagecoach, and off we go.
I look back as we pass through the gates of the small, secure development and wish there was more I could dofor my boy in this moment, because I haaate feeling helpless like this.
If I’d known in that moment that there’s a bottomless well to helplessness, I might have stayed the whole night.
