“Why did you take off your wedding band?” I quietly ask.
“Because I need to move forward. I need to release her. Doesn’t mean I don’t love her, or don’t miss her every damn day. But I have you and Declan, and I can’t keep the two of you second-place to her. That’s not fair to either of you.” He stares at his left hand as he rubs his fingers together, like he’s trying to process his hand is now bare. “The next ring I wear needs to be for you and him, even if only the three of us know it’s for both of you.”
* * * *
I finish putting together the plans for the inaugural ball. We were going to hold it at the Tennessee Residence, except it soon becomes apparent we’ll have way too many people in attendance and will need a larger facility.
So we rent a ballroom at a hotel in Nashville, and I keep track of every damn dollar we spend, even though it’s the campaign paying for it and not the state. I refuse to do anything to trip George up. We have no problem releasing financials, because there’s nothing shady going on.
Which is more than I can say about most of George’s opponents throughout the years. Yes, technically the bulk of campaign violations are stupid mistakes, or minor grey-area issues that shouldn’t have happened, not deliberate malfeasance.
Except George’s reputation, in this way, remains untarnished. We’ve never had a violation despite how deeply he’s been scrutinized over the years.
And I guarantee you plenty of opposition research money and time and effort went into scouring our records for any whiff of impropriety. Hey, I welcome it. It’s money they’re wasting on that instead of dumping into ads or polling. It only benefits us.
If only they’d looked that hard at George’s personal life. Except even then they’d be hard-pressed to find anything amiss.
Well, other than Declan.
And me.
And what Declan doesn’t know is that I created a resignation letter for him on his work laptop and printed it out while he was at an off-the-books meeting one day. I’ve dated it to take effect the day before the inauguration, on that Friday, at the end of the work day.
I’ve also started quietly talking to people about a staff opening and asking them to keep it confidential. So when the howls start the morning after the inauguration—or that Monday, at least—I’ll have plenty of people to back up my version of events and the timeline.
It’ll insulate George and Declan from claims of impropriety. No one will be able to say the two of them have been together before now, so they’ll have no idea what the true timeline is.
All that will matter is I can publicly back up my version of the timeline.
Because that’s what Ido. I’m George’s political consigliere, his fixer.
If it wasn’t for Declan…maybe I could’ve married George, if he was already out of politics.
But I’m more worried about protecting Dec than I am George. George is tough, a political beast. Dec is about to be hurled face-first into a political maelstrom. The safest place he can be is tucked close against George’s side and protected by him while I shield them both.
I owe Ellen. I want to keep George happy and alive for his kids, if for no other reason. I want Declan to be happy—and George makes him happy. And the truth is, I reallydon’twant to get married, not even to those two goobers. I love them, and do want to spend the rest of my life with them, but I don’t need a piece of paper for that. I just need them.
I spent too many years imagining Ellen married me and we spent our lives together, even though I knew it was an impossibility.
Still, try telling my heart that.
