Chapter One
Now — January 1
I know that by nearly all standards I am a lucky man leading a blessed life. Sitting in church today, listening to our minister give her sermon about blessings, helps me reflect upon that.
Blessings.
My biggest and brightest of blessings currently sits at my right side, his left hand resting on my thigh and my right arm draped around his shoulders.
Glancing down, the gold wedding band on his left ring finger is also proof positive of my blessings.
The ring I put there ten years ago, when I finally yanked my head out of my ass and realized the only person I needed stood right there in front of me, patiently waiting for me to move past my old trauma.
No matter what the ghosts of my past chattered at me at the time, and no matter how my wounded, aching heart scolded me for not moving on sooner.
No matter what my soul still cried out for. Here this man, after I confessed to him how fucked up I was,stillwanted to be mine. Despite his own reservations about the institution of marriage, he willingly accepted the choice to live with me and the phantom shadows in my soul, assuring me he was strong enough to share me with those noisy ghosts.
Which have quieted, finally, thanks in no small part to Daniel’s love and devotion. Although there were countless days I never thought they would stop tormenting me.
One particular ghost, actually.
I shove that thought away and focus on Reverend Ormand’s words. I like this UU church and miss it when we’re in DC and can’t make it home to Massachusetts. We’ve attended it for most of our marriage, although Daniel wasn’t certain about it, at first. He was raised in a liberal Methodist church, and Reverend Ormand frequently blends in bits and pieces from other beliefs, not just Christianity.
Like me, it eventually grew on him, I suppose.
When we’re in DC, we attend an Episcopal church with a very inclusive minister and congregation, although we don’t manage to make it to services every Sunday. Frequently, work interferes, or one or both of us are too tired to make it.
We’re both members of a couple of prayer groups on the Hill, and sometimes making it to one or more of those is all we can cram in on any given week. I don’t like to attend church alone. I did enough of that before I met and married Daniel. Sometimes, it’s better for our personal well-being—and our marriage—to sleep late on a Sunday morning when we can and spend it focused on each other.
I’m reasonably certain God won’t hold it against either of us.
Especially since there are plenty of times Daniel’s on the road on Sundays, traveling to events with his boss, Congressman Marlowe Effings. Unlike senators such as myself, the US House reps are running for re-election every other year. Seems like they spend most of their time in campaign and fundraising mode.
I miss Daniel when he’s not home, but at least we work in the same town and can eat lunch or dinner together on the regular. We’ve made it work all these years, and I’m not complaining. He loves his job and thrives in it.
But when heishome?
Then he’s all mine, and my boy gives me his undivided attention.
At least, until work calls him.
More than once, I’ve had to hold his phone up to his ear for him because I literally had him tied up and wasn’t about to untie him and ruin our play, but he needed to deal with an issue in one of the offices.
Daniel’s an old hat at this, though. He’s worked for Effings for years and is now his chief of staff. Started out as a campaign volunteer, which is what he was doing when we first met.
I’m getting ready to begin year three of my second term in the US Senate. And when we return to DC in three days, I won’t need to engage in office musical chairs. I was able to keep my current office, happy to swap my offered new assignment to larger digs with a re-elected former GOP senator from Wyoming, who’s already said this is his last term. He became a persona non grata to the GOP after switching from GOP to Independent when he filed to run for re-election for his fourth term. Due to his popularity, he still handily won re-election.
His margin of victory only rubbed salt in the GOP’s wound. For years, he frequently crossed the aisle and voted with Democrats regarding social issues, which vexed his fellow party members.
In exchange for trading him the larger office, I received his tiny “hideaway” office in the Capitol building. He lost his old office due to construction and has been desperate to find somewhere larger than the tiny space he’d been assigned. None of his former GOP colleagues would make a deal with him. From what I heard, incoming freshmen GOP senators were warned not to trade with him, either.
The incoming GOP freshman who would have gotten my current office is now getting the one the senior senator would’ve been assigned, because fuck you, that’s why.
Didn’t hurt that President-elect ShaeLynn Samuels—former Senator ShaeLynn Samuels—put in a word to let the horse-trade go through.
Hey, I’m always willing to reach across the aisle. Especially if it’ll benefit me or my constituents. Otherwise, it’d be unheard of for a second-term senator, majority party or not, to score one of those little gems. The hideaway office is literally smaller than the walk-in closet in our master bedroom here, but it’s convenient for quick, private meetings.
And quick, private blowjobs.
