I nuzzle my nose against his. “Love you, too, Sir.”
“That doesn’t bother you, does it?” he asks.
“Does what bother me?”
“Ellen.”
I nuzzle his nose again. “No, Sir. It’d bother me if youdidn’t.” Economy of words this morning, because I don’t want him upset before this stressful day.
Again, this is something we’ve repeated dozens of times now. I find it endearing. He gets into these little…routines, almost. It’s just the way he is. Ellen told Casey he used to do that, too. Things he says or does all the time.
I love that about him.
He blows out a long breath. “Okay.” A nod. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
Aussie’s going to join us for the watch party tonight at the campaign headquarters, but both Logan and Ryder have classes tomorrow morning, so George asked them to stay in Knoxville. Tonight will, hopefully, not be too exciting, and will produce a comfortable vote margin for him as far as numbers go. I’ll spend the next few days crunching numbers with the consulting team we hired and see where we stand going into the general.
If he can pull in more votes than all his opponentscombined, it’ll take the wind right out of the Democrats’ sails. Especially if the results break down to show a considerable number of Democrats defected to vote GOP.
At least we have good weather today, easy flying. Between me and Casey, we keep George calm without a Xanax.
That evening, as we sit in front of TVs at the campaign headquarters, eating pizza as the returns roll in, it’s obvious to me and our hired consultants that while George’s victory in November is not exactly a slam-dunk, there is very little doubt he’ll be able to pull in more votes than whoever the Democratic candidate is.
That’s if George isn’t hobbled by stupid scandals, or self-inflicted political injuries.
Like being linked to fucking a male staffer.
Not even the Petula Bounce would pull us out of that fire, if we were ensnared by it.
Late that night, it’s the three of us in George’s bed. We’re exhausted from a day of travel and stress, so instead of sex, we sit up eating Ellen’s favorite ice cream—strawberry—right out of the carton while watching episodes ofGrey’s Anatomy.
It feels…fitting.
“I’m not going to jinx this and say I think I have it won,” he says. “I’ll keep working my ass off.”
“Good,” Casey says. “Because I’d have to punch you in the snoot if you jinxed us.”
She’s sitting in the middle tonight. We’ve had some movie nights and cuddle times where she was in the middle, but with those she’s always clothed.
For sexytime, it’s me in the middle.
One thing I have noticed, but haven’t mentioned to George, is that when it’s just me and Casey in bed, she’s never let me fuck her from behind.
Not once.
No doggy style, not on our sides, not even reverse cowgirl—nothing like that. I don’t know why that’s a bad trigger for her, because she’ll gladly fuck me from behind with a strap-on, but it’s something on my list of topics to discuss with her once we’re through election season and can fucking breathe again.
They’re both better about communication with me, too. No more blow-ups on my part, either.
George and I both understand Casey’s dealing with her own demons, and we can’t force her to rush that process. We’re okay with that, because at least she’s trying.
In her own way.
We’re both very patient men.
And now the next chapter of our life begins.
I get picked to take what’s left of the ice cream back downstairs to the freezer. When I return, they’re sitting there talking, Casey’s head tipped over onto George’s shoulder, and I pause in the bedroom doorway for a moment to watch them together.
