And here comes the pitch.
His father’s gaze narrows. “Why? What haven’t you told us?”
“They needed to be here even before this…but also because I’m announcing Sunday morning that I’m running for President.”
Wow. Oliver is a cold-hearted bastard. He really is. He seems to mull that info for a moment before slowly nodding. “About time. You’ve been talking about it for enough years.”
Motherfucker.
I sense it’s going to be a rough return to DC and an even rougher night, once I get Elliot alone in the residence. My boy’s gutted.
Norah goes in for another hug, though. “Like I said, honey, we’re very proud of you, and we love you. We’ll vote for you.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“So, what’s for lunch?” Oliver asks his wife as he sits down at the table.
I end up sitting next to Elliot. Under the table, I slide my foot next to his, feeling it when Elliot slides his over to meet me there.
That he’s seeking comfort from me now tells me he’s already frayed and unraveling.
I’ll do my best to keep him stitched together while we’re here.
Dammit, Leo. Why didn’t you talk him out of this insanity years ago?
