Yeah, maybe I could get used to this.
* * * *
We’ve rented a hotel ballroom for the party, and head over there thirty minutes before returns are due to start coming in. There’s already a large group of volunteers and supporters there when we arrive.
I stand back and let George be George. It’s out of my hands, out of Declan’s hands, although he’s tucked away in an anteroom just off the ballroom, with computers, monitors, TVs, and several campaign staffers. They’re still crunching numbers.
Aussie makes her way over to me and hooks arms with me, leaning her head against my shoulder. “I wish Mom was here.”
“Me too, kiddo.”
“Where’s Declan?”
“War room.”
“He should be out here with Dad.”
I pat her hand. “You know he can’t be. Not like that. Not yet.”
“It’s almost time for returns to come in. It won’t hurt Dad now.”
“That’sDad’sdecision.” I look down into her green eyes. “Unless you want me announcing to the world right now that his daughter’s gay?”
She rolls her eyes. “Fine. Point taken.”
“I should hope so.”
We watch George, Logan, and Ryder watching one of the TVs we have on in the ballroom as another exit poll is displayed. A small cheer goes up, because it’s got George ahead by over fifty points. George stands with his arms around their shoulders, and their arms around his waist. The three Motherfuckerteers.
The boys look more George every day. Logan especially so, and watching him brings back a mixed bag of memories and emotions for me. I see the boy I held and named at his birth, the little boy I babysat and loved as a son, the stubborn teenager whose mom used to threaten with calling me in as the disciplinarian, when George wasn’t around.
And now the ghostly image of the man who broke my heart back then without knowing it.
Neither of the boys have girlfriends right now. I know part of that is because they have trouble trusting. Several times over the past two years they’ve had girls try to get close to them because of their father’s fame, both as the governor and because of his survival story. Or because they assume the boys are rich and will spoil them rotten, not realizing that it’s their father’s money and they have no say in how it’s spent.
Trust. Another silent casualty of that horrible day. I wish I had good advice to give them, but I know from personal experience how badly it sucks to realize trust is a precious and rare commodity.
Ryder’s mused about maybe running for office in a few years. School board, or county commissioner, he’s not sure what yet. Logan says he just wants to practice law, but his little brother frequently has a way of changing his mind.
George would have a fit if he knew Aussie’s already planning a run for state rep, once she’s graduated from college and is old enough. You have to be at least twenty-one to run for state rep.
And she’s asked me to run her campaign.
I told her we should wait to break that news to her dad. He wants his kids to be happy and not be in the media spotlight. But I know Aussie really has her heart set on changing our state.
What better person to do it?
Yes, maybe I already have been laying some groundwork. I’ll own that. Mostly because I know damn well what’s going to happen—Declan will jump in and take over and shoo me out of his way so he can get her elected.
Our boy can do it, too.
* * * *
By 9:45 p.m. nearly every media outlet has called the race in George’s favor, and the champagne has been uncorked. I don’t drink, because I opted to drive myself to the hotel. Declan and I stand off to the side, shoulder-to-shoulder, watching as George gives his victory speech to a standing-room-only crowd who loudly cheers and applauds nearly every line.
Declan wrote it, and it’s brilliant. George and I made few tweaks to it.
He absolutely knows his Sir’s voice and how he talks.
