We can’t affordnotto do it.
I need it as badly as he does today.
When we emerge from the suite, Vice President Woodley is ready for work and takes charge as I quietly follow along half a step behind him. The faithful companion who makes all his staffers’ jobs tenfold easier with my presence.
I’m honestly shocked no one’s ever asked me if there’s more between us than friendship but we’ve been damned careful over the years, and my reputation is already well-known.
And then I had Jordan—
I cut that thought off.
Somehow, some way, I need to pull together the raw and gaping edges of that chasm within me and try to stitch my soul back together. For Elliot’s sake, if nothing else.
Except I’m a horrible person.
During Elliot’s first meeting of the morning, I feel my personal cell vibrate in my pocket.
That it’s vibrating at all, bypassing thedo not disturbsetting, can only mean one person is texting me.
Jordan.
I weigh my options for a moment before slipping my phone out of my pocket and looking at his text.
It’s a picture of his desk at his new job. It nearly drives my knees out from under me when I see that among Jordan’s eclectic collection of Funko Pop! figures, some of which I gave him, and small 3-D models of Washington DC landmarks, sits a small framed copy of the picture of us at Shae’s first inauguration.
There’s also a message.
What do you think?
I think I’m fuckingdyinginside, like my guts have been caught on some medieval torture device and are slowly being torn from my body and wound onto it.
Not only because of that picture but because of what’s missing from his text.
NoSir.
NoMaster.
No capitalizedYin theyou, where before it was rare he ever forgot to capitalize it.
I glance around where I’m standing at the back of the room. Elliot’s attention is focused on the meeting and he doesn’t need me there right this second. He has his staffers. It’s not uncommon for me to step out of a room.
It is, however, uncommon for me to lock myself in the men’s room one floor down and quietly sob.
My hands shake as I sniffle back tears and ponder how to reply. I finally settle on something totally lame and safe, because I can’t handle any more guilt right now. I don’t want to put my emotions onto Jordan’s shoulders. That’s not fair to him.
Looks good. :)
I want to addboyand resist.
Barely.
I want to add the extraction of a promise for him to be careful and to please let me know if he has even the slightest hint of trouble in his life, trouble of any kind.
I want to add a heartfelt plea for him to return to DC and let me have more time to win Elliot over.
I want to drop to my knees and pray to a god whose existence I don’t even believe in to bring my sweet boy back to me.
I want a hole to swallow me and put me out of my misery.
