George has practiced both law and politics long enough that by the time he emerges from the limo he’s pulled his own mask into place. We make it through the event with no hiccups, and with Declan shadowing him for part of the event, when George is working his way through the attendees and giving grip-and-grins with people, taking selfies.
Being George.
George the survivor, the nice guy, the father, the rock-steady hand controlling the state’s rudder and keeping our budget balanced and our people safe.
I watch them carefully, and midway through this portion of the evening, I approach them from behind while George is busy talking and step in for Declan, sending him out of the room to regroup. I can tell he’s close to tears again.
George turns to say something and is shocked to see it’s me standing there with Declan’s work phone, ready to take notes.
It throws him. “Where’s Dec?”
“Taking care of something.”
He finally remembers what he was going to say, and I take notes.
Once we’ve sent George home with EPU at the end of the event, I send Declan out to my car to wait for me while I speak to a few more people. When I rejoin Dec, I make him get out from behind the wheel. He’s too wiped out to drive.
Tonight will be about taking care of my boy, soothing his wounded heart, and slapping a bandage over my aching conscience.
I am incapable of giving them what they really want tomorrow. But, maybe, I can give them what they both desperately need.
Hopefully they’ll be so happy to have what they feel is a resolution that they won’t notice what’s missing.
Especially after how bumpy tomorrow will be.
* * * *
EPU is due to pick us up from George’s at 8:00 Saturday morning. I opt to skip the workout today because it’s going to be a long, stressful day. We stay in bed until 5:30. When I use my phone to check on George, I see no motion detector activity. The last detected was around one a.m., and I hope beyond hope the man held on one more night, that I didn’t push him to the breaking point too soon.
We shower together. This morning, I opt to shave Declan myself, shaping his facial hair into the mustache and goatee. It’ll throw George to see it, I know, and he’ll probably assume Declan did it himself.
Declan’s not his boy right now, though.
I want the extra tug on George’s heartstrings.
“We’re’ going to drive over separately,” I tell him. “I’ll go over first. You hang back until 7:45. Donotpark in the garage like you normally do. In fact, where’s your clicker?”
“On my visor, next to yours.”
“Okay. I’ll get it.” His SUV is parked in my garage, and damn, have I missed seeing it there.
This is going to be a bumpy day on multiple fronts.
“How is his speech?”
“We finalized it on Wednesday, but he hasn’t gone through it since then. I mean, not with me.”
“Okay. You have hard copies?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Good.” I cup his face in my hand. “Alpha Declan today. No matter how it sucks, no matter how upset he gets. Letmehandle George. Unless I ask you to step in, you do your public job, and nothing more. Understand?”
“Yes, Ma’am. Do you have his Xanax?”
“I do. I’m not going to give him one unless I’m forced to.”
“You mean on the return flight?”
