I look up at him. I’ve left my glasses off for now, and he’s a little fuzzy, like a soft filter. “I need to tell you something and it can’t go any farther than this room.”
He nods.
“Susannah Evans. I was shipwrecked with her.”
He nods again.
“She and her husband, Carter, are way more than friends with Owen Taylor.”
“The Florida governor?”
“Yeah. They’re a triad. They’vebeen together since college.”
“You mean…romantically?”
“Yeah.”
He sets his laptop aside and apparently is following my train of thought. “You’re the governor of one of the most conservative states in the country,” he reminds me, Declan in the room now, not my boy, not Casey’s boy. “And you’re running for re-election.”
“So? Owen’s the governor of Florida. Heran. Susa is his lieutenant. Carter’shis chief of staff. She’s going to run for governor after Owen’s second term.”
“Why are you bringing this up right now?”
I sit up, eye-to-eye with him. “Why not us?”
“Why not us, what?”
“The three of us. Full-time.”
It takes him a long moment to answer me. “Well, for starters, I think you and Casey might kill each other.” He smirks. “Or me.” Then he laughs. “Or I might kill both of you.”
“Would you be for it?”
“After you’re out of office? Maybe. We can’t do anything right now to jeopardize your re-election.”
“Maybe?”
“George, whatever this is, it’s still new. We don’t even know what the hell thisisbetween us yet. Alotcan change between now and November. Hell, I’ll be happy just to get you through the DC trip. I’m focused on immediate goals. DC trip. Passing the budget. Legislativesession. Fundraising. Re-election.”
“But we could do it. Even if we have separate houses still, we could do it. You and Casey could get married or something.” I don’t miss the scowl that flashes across his features. “What?”
“She won’t ever marry me or anyone else, George. You know that.”
“What?”
He gives me a look that’s nearly a Dom look. The eyebrow thing, all of it. “She warned me earlyon she’s not marriage material. Nothing she’s ever said or done makes me think she’s changed that position. She made it perfectly clear to me thatshewould ownme, not the other way around, and I had to be okay with that. That was part of the trade-off I made to be with her, knowing she’ll never marry me, and that she very well might not ever want to live with me.”
I have to ask it. “Has shecheated on you?” I don’t understand why I’m going there, but I do.
He looks confused. “What?”
“You know she dates lots of guys, right?” I feel like a cowardly shit for saying that.
He sadly sighs and then leans in and kisses me. “You’re adorable.”
Which confuses me even more, but I go with it. “What?”
“Most of the time,” he says, “it’s as their beard. Or for some other politically convenientreason. Like she wants to meet someone else at an event to talk, so it doesn’t look prearranged, or the guy she goes out with wants to make connections, so they have a quid pro quo arrangement with each other. ButIdidn’t tell you that.”
