“Yes, Mr. Walsh. We’re to load your things with his to transport to the residence. He also told us to coordinate with you about moving everything else.”
“Oh.”
Elliot’s not a bullshitter. I guess it really means he’s planning to have me live with him at Number One Observatory Circle, and then the White House.
Hell, he’s single, and I’m single. As long as it looks like I’m paying rent, and we have an official lease or something, it’ll be fine. It’s what Kev and Chris and Shae did after Kev got shot. They moved Kev into the residence with them.
Okay, slightly different circumstances here, but considering Elliot’s fear, if he’s willing to do this…I guess I shouldn’t fight it. Right?
Before we leave my apartment, I also change clothes, into one of my suits I haven’t worn since leaving DC six months earlier. I pack the clothes I was wearing today, and my sneakers, into my overnight bag. I also check the weather in DC and hold back my heavy coat, a scarf, and gloves.
I no longer look like a TA—I look like I just stepped out of the White House.
Once I’m ready to leave, and the agents have carried my stuff down to the SUV and are waiting for me there, I’m left staring around at my small and rather barren abode. It hits me once again how sad it is that one living space isn’t much different than another to me.
Especially since I’m a freaking designer. Kind of my gig, and yet I live in something that’s got less personality than a Chinese food take-out container. IKEA flat packs are merrier than my loft.
Although that is due in no small part to my depression over having left Leo.
I could disappear tomorrow and who would even miss me? Really?
Well, I guess Elliot would now. And the Secret Service, I suppose.
I haven’t been able to bring myself to communicate with Leo in months, so he wouldn’t even know I was missingtomiss me.
Before today, my boss would have, hopefully, reported me missing if I disappeared.
Except now I’ve resigned from that job.
Yes, I told her why, because I felt I owed her an explanation for not giving her notice. She was happy for me, too.
I mean, I told her I was unexpectedly going back to work for the White House in DC, in a dream job. I didn’t tell her exactly in what capacity. Obviously, I didn’t tell her I just received a blowjob from the VP, or the other…details of what my duties will entail.
She laughed and told me she was glad I wasn’t being sent to Guantanamo Bay or something similarly sinister.
No, just going to be the Dominant and professional hand-holder of our country’s VP, and probably our next president.
Takethat, Dad.
I’m sure I could throw around a “Master Baiter” pun or twenty, but I’m too exhausted and emotionally overwhelmed.
Besides, the only person I could tell that pun to would be Leo, and he’s not around.
Right now, I’m also wondering if I’m an idiot for not thinking this through more clearly before saying yes to Elliot.
I feel sorry for him, though.
Mostly because I know how much I’ve been suffering without Leo, and I’m a private citizen. I can only imagine how bad it is for Elliot, not only keeping himself shoved deep in the closet, but rarely able to get what he truly needs to be happy.
And rarely able to be with the person he truly needs.
Not just alone, but lonely. Especially ironic considering how many people he’s surrounded by on a daily basis.
Shoot, I don’t even know how much money I’ll be making. Maybe this wasn’t the brightest idea. Hopefully my salary will be at least as much as I was making before.
It’s not quite nine when we roll up to the plane again—which I belatedly realize is technicallyAir Force Two—and there’s still no one around except ground crew, law enforcement, and Secret Service agents.
I try to unload my stuff from the SUV, but I’m instantly swarmed by Secret Service agents and ground crew stepping in to do it for me, leaving me carrying only my messenger bag and overnight bag as I head up the stairs.
