Chapter Six
Now
There’s a rare, precious beauty in a Sunday afternoon nap spent wrapped around the man you love.
I lightly doze and, every time I awaken, I realize Daniel’s still in my arms.
He hasn’t disappeared.
He’s no ghost.
He’s real, and solid, and as devoted to me as I am to him.
I think I knew the day I met him that there was something different about him. Time has only reinforced that view.
We didn’t party last night. In fact, we politely declined at least a dozen invitations from various friends and political operatives and coworkers. We stayed home, cuddled and canoodled on the couch while sort of watching festivities on TV, did a single shot each of tequila at midnight, and then came upstairs and fell asleep.
It was exactly how we wanted to spend it. I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect way to celebrate the new year’s arrival, or a more perfect way to spend the first day of the new year than starting it by listening to an uplifting sermon before making love to my boy, and then napping together.
Sunday afternoon naps will be few and far between over the next weeks as we both bury ourselves in work. Daniel is congressional staff, not campaign staff, but because he’s chief of staff, he frequently travels with Effings to campaign events.
Or if Daniel’s not traveling with the congressman, he’s busy in the office, there to ride herd on staff and make sure things happen. Especially if there are committee meetings or hearings Effings is involved in.
My boy can juggle several metaphorical running chainsaws at once, along with a few flaming swords. It’s one of the things that makes him amazing at his job and why he’s constantly fending off lucrative and enticing offers from outside organizations who want to hire him away. Especially political consultants, lobbyists, and other businesses.
But he likes the challenge, and it keeps us relatively close. There are no ethics conflicts, because we don’t work together.
I’ve always envied his ability to fall deeply asleep. Right now, he snuggles closer, his face pressed against my shoulder, that sexily scruffy beard lightly rasping against me, my arms around him, our legs tangled together. I listen to him breathe and know from the slow, deep, easy pattern that he’s enjoying his slumber.
It’s a good thing, because there will be plenty of late nights ahead in the near future, where my workaholic hubby will barely get any sleep.
It’s another of those promises I made him—I will not interfere with his career. I will never lie to him about my thoughts regarding it, but giving him input is different from ordering him to give it up.
Yes, I make more money than he does, and yes, he could make a lot more money than I currently am if he left his job for the private sector.
Except we both know conflicts of interest could then potentially crop up in ways they don’t now.
He’s happy. That’s what’s important to me. He’s safe, happy, and fulfilled.
If he wasn’t, I’d admit right now that I’m willing to not run for a third term in four years.
I’m actually kind of dreading it, in some ways.
Being men of faith has not come without some…disconcerting interest from certain parties.
Especially members of one particular shadowy religious organization that prides itself on not being an organization.
What little public face it has is usually comprised of various well-known members claiming it’s not nefarious, it’s not secretive, and it’s not shadowy in the slightest.
Which only makes it seem more nefarious, secretive, and shadowy.
While we enjoy the prayer meetings we attend, at any given one at least half of the attendees are in The Fellowship, or The Family, or whatever they’re calling themselves at that particular moment. We’ve both been approached numerous times with invitations to other events, more private events, some of which are held at a certain C Street townhouse known for its lawmaker alumni.
We decline, because…yeah.
We have enough on our plates as it is. Not to mention I suspect one of the main reasons they’d love to have us as members is so we can be publicly trotted out to others as the token gays in their group. How bad could they be if they’re so inclusive?
Again, no, thank you.
