For the entire drive, George sits slumped in the corner and staring out the window, barely acknowledging me while I catch him repeatedly looking at the back of Declan’s head.
But when we reach the airport, when Declan starts to grab everything and start for the plane, I can tell George has had enough.
“Hang back, Declan,” he says.
Declan’s gaze hesitates on mine and I give him the briefest of nods.
“Yes, Governor,” Declan says.
I’ve noticed today Declan has done his damnedest to avoid referring to George as “sir”, because he knows he’s not supposed to capital-Sit and he desperately wants to.
George leans in and says something to Declan as he heads for the stairs, and Declan falls in behind him.
I follow them.
Except for the EPU officers who’ve already boarded, everyone else hangs back to follow us. Before we left the event, I asked the head of the detail to hold them until we’re settled in our seats.
On the plane, Declan stows the garment bag and other items. I watch as George clamps a hand on Declan’s shoulder and basically plants him in an aisle seat on the port side, in a row in front of the wing, then steps past him, into the row, and takes the window seat himself.
George meets my gaze and points at the aisle seat in front of Declan.
I’ll give him this one, because I think I’ve proven my point.
Once we’re in the air, when I unfasten my seat belt and turn to speak to George, I see he’s staring out the window. He’s raised the armrest between the seats and his hand is resting on his own right thigh, but with his thighs spread a little, it means his hand is pressed against Declan’s left thigh.
Declan’s left hand lays on his own thigh, positioned so that he can reach over with his pinky finger and stroke the edge of George’s hand.
For a moment Declan and I stare at each other, and I spot the conflict roiling through him. He’s still Alpha Declan, because otherwise he’d be outright holding George’s hand, or he would’ve put George’s hand on his thigh.
But this is killing Declan inside.
That’s all I need to dig down deep and find the determination to see this all the way through to the end.
I end up fielding campaign staff for the flight, moving around the cabin the way I usually do and keeping the focus off George and Declan, including standing in the aisle, right next to Declan, and blocking people’s view of the men.
Everyone’s getting a weekend off next weekend. No events other than a cocktail meet-and-greet after work on Friday for hospital, insurance, and health care industry bigwigs. It was a calculated risk I’d built into the schedule earlier, before all this happened. I knew George would be in desperate need of downtime.
Now, I can use it to my advantage.
I hope.
