I love watching him as he stares out the car window. He’s so excited to be traveling with me as boyfriends, and not as a work trip. This past year we’ve spent together has been nothing short of amazing. In what little spare time we have, Jordan loves to sketch, sometimes while we’re chilling out on the sofa and watching TV. He takes pictures of DC landmarks with his phone and then draws them.
It breaks my heart I never got to meet Mimi. She obviously loved him very much, and he thrived once he moved in with her full-time.
Part of me wants to look up Jordan’s parents one day and pay them a visit so I can deck his father.
But…that would be baaaad.
I’d be willing to bet his parents would turn it into a political thing, too, instead of a just being total assholes thing.
I digress.
My boy is happy and, for this sweet pocket of time, I’m going to pretend that everything is perfect with the rest of the world. That nothing’s amiss.
I’m going to hold his hand without reservation and drape my arm around his shoulders. I’m going to kiss him in public and make moony eyes at him.
All while I’m doing my damnedest not to wish he was Elliot.
Because that’s not fair to either of them. Especially when I love Jordan.
If the rest of my life is going to be spent loving Elliot in secret, or from afar, then so be it. Jordan deserves to have me fully present this weekend. That’s why I decided to spirit him out of DC for a few days—to have a little bit of normalcy.
I want to walk on the beach with him.
I want to lie in bed with him and softly talk about future dreams.
I want to spend time with him without worrying who’s watching us, or what Elliot might hear or see.
I want…
Everything.
Because I love him.
“Do you think they’ll like me?” Not the first time he’s asked that.
I reach across the seat and take his hand. “They’re going to love you, baby.”
He speaks his next comment so softly I almost miss it. “I wish Elliot did.”
This is the first time he’s voiced the thought. “That Elliot is as open as he is around you says how much he likes you.”
“Hetoleratesme.” Jordan turns in his seat. “He doesn’tlikeme.”
“He isn’t allowed to lie to me. Hedoeslike you.” Although, truthfully, I hoped we’d be farther along in this process by now. I’d thought for sure we would. Jordan is now considered a White House insider and not only excels in his job, he’s been talking to Kev and picking things up in the world of politics. He voraciously devours memoirs and biographies of previous White House and government officials, informs himself about current events. He wants to be more than a designer, and I love that thirst, that hunger in his soul.
Mostly because, in some ways, he reminds me a lot of me when I first joined the Secret Service.
We check into our hotel before going to my parents’ house because it’s only five minutes away. I decided I wanted to be in a hotel. It’s a little pricey, but it’s on the water, and we have a fantastic view. It also affords us a level of anonymity we can’t assume in DC.
Jordan stands at the sliding doors leading to our balcony and stares at the Pacific. “Wow.”
“You saw the ocean in Florida, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. The Gulf, and the Atlantic. It just looks…different. It’s beautiful.”
We’ve spent the last year in perpetual motion, it feels like. He’s traveled a few times, including once to California, but he doesn’t get to see anything except the inside of a plane, the inside of motorcade vehicles, and the inside of event venues. No time for sightseeing at all.
I wrap my arms around him and try not to let my mind drift to fantasies of living out here, Jordan finding plentiful and lucrative work as a designer while I go to work for any number of multi-national companies who need a translator on their team. Or even for a security firm. Of my family welcoming him and helping me heal his soul.
