I don’t lock him up today because Iwanthim hard and needy, and I want the possibility of teasing him, should the chance arise.
I want to know he’s hard forme.
For what I’m doing with him.
I do my best at the barbecue to let my Governor Forrester mask shine. Even when Case gets me alone for a moment and drops into full-on friend mode and asks me ifI’m okay.
I somehow manage not to cry as I hug her and thank her again for letting me have him for the weekend.
And I apologize, again, for my asshole behavior.
I really don’t deserve her—I don’t.
“When do I get to hear the story about you and Declan?” I ask. “He said you asked to tell me that story.”
Her smile bears a wistful pang I can’t interpret. “Not right now. Enjoy your time with him.We’ve got too much to do right now, between budget hearings and the DC trip, to worry about that. You and I can sit down and talk about me and Declan later. I’d rather if you have free time where I can shoehorn in time for you with him that we do that. You need it.”
I can’t argue with her there, because she’s absolutely right.
Idoneed it—I needhim.
I survive the barbecue, and fortunatelyvery few people talk to me about Ellen or my ordeal. Declan and Casey help redirect people if they start triggering me, and when Casey sees I’ve had enough, she runs interference for me and has Declan get me out of there.
Upon our return to my house, we spend the rest of the afternoon in bed, making love and talking—yes, talking a lot about work, but also…talking.
I want to know more about Declan.
We talk movies, and books, and I learn for the first time he had an older sister who died, but he doesn’t want to talk about the circumstances today.
Fair enough, because I’d rather keep things light for both of us, if possible. I order us Chinese food for dinner so we don’t have to go out, and for the first time in two years, as we eat in bed, still snuggled and talking, I almost feel…normal.
Sunday, we spend it in bed, too. Not just fucking, but going over budget stuff, and working on my speech for the NGA.
Which reminds me of what’s coming up.
I lie there with my head in his lap while he sits up with his laptop and works on the speech, reading me stuff, trying lines on me, noting my edits.
This is…
Weird and delightfully domestic, and I’m terrified for tomorrow morning to come.
I don’t want to lose this.
Him.
I don’t want to losehim.
I want to order him to park his car in my garage—literally, because it looks fucking empty with only my SUV out there, and I rarely drive it anymore. It’s a three-car garage with only my car in it. I gave Aussie Ellen’s car.
I…
I swallow, thinking about it.
“George?” I realize he’d been talking to me.
“Huh?”
“What did you thinkabout that line?”
