“Do you think they might ask you about a diplomatic post? I heard they’re focused on filling all of those now. Or maybe a secretary or undersecretary posting? I mean, they’ve already announced the cabinet. And they would feel safe tapping you, because Massachusetts is reliably blue, and our governor’s a Dem, so they wouldn’t be risking your Senate seat ending up flipped to red, and—”
I shrug and interrupt him. “I sincerely doubt that’s what it’s about, but who knows?” If I don’t cut him off, he’ll spin it out a thousand ways. That’s one of the things I love about him so desperately, his ability to visualize many different options almost simultaneously.
Daniel glances around and waits for a couple of interns to pass before whispering, “If they want to offer you a diplomatic posting, let me know ASAP.” He brushes a quick kiss across my lips. “I’d be willing to discuss me quitting for that.” He drops me a wink that would normally harden my cock.
I smile. “We’d have to get assigned to Canada, or the UK, or Australia. Or somewhere else English is pretty widely spoken. Neither of us speak anything but English, and what little Latin I remember is pretty worthless, unless we get the Vatican.”
“Yeah, we’re abject failures of the American public school system, front and center.” He grins. “Keep me posted onanydevelopments.”
“It’s probably exactly what he said it was. Don’t say anything to anyone about it.”
“Of course I won’t.” His cell rings and he studies it before answering, his voice back to professional mode. “Daniel Walker.” He doesn’t use the hyphenated version in situations like this. Which I don’t mind…usually.
Today, I wish he was adding my name to his.
Which is totally not the reaction I was expecting from myself after—
Shit. Ward.
I nervously glance behind us, but don’t see him in the hallway.
“Yes, Mr. Markos,” Daniel says into the phone as he glances at me, and I realize Kev just caught up with him. I use this as my escape, blow him a kiss, and practically run to the nearest bathroom, where I lock myself in the handicapped-accessible stall and wash my face in the sink there with shaky hands.
Fuuuuck me.
I grab my personal cell from my pocket and Google Ward.
Sure enough, I find stories about his election, pictures of him and his wife Olivia—
cold-looking cunt
—at his victory party last November, and several in-depth interviews with him, feature pieces published in Georgia papers about his “rising political star.” Including several quotes from both his father and his father-in-law, as well as other high-profile Georgia politicians.
In every picture, Ward looks either sad or downright miserable. Isn’t truly smiling in any of them.
Sonofabitch.
I cannot hide in this bathroom for the next four years. I’ll have to face Ward, sooner or later.
For starters, they’re going to assign desks shortly. I need to get back out there and be ready for that. Everyone knows I’m going to speak up and request to move mine closer to the front, since there was a minor shuffle with a couple of Democrats retiring and new Democrats elected to their seats. If I miss that, it will make people who know me wonder what the hell is going on.
This is definitelynothow I imagined today would turn out.
Not at all.
It’s particularly shitty, even by first-day standards. Somehow, I must force my body and brain to function if I don’t want to draw attention to myself.
I need to find time alone with Ward to get some goddamned answers from him.
I also need to figure out how to keep the truth of my history with Ward secret from my husband, to protect both of them.
Why the hell can I not summon abjectrageover Ward’s reappearance in my life? Why is my first go-to instinct to conceal the truth and protect him from Daniel?
My old instincts. What I always did back then. The multitude of half-truths and outright lies I had ready to deflect and obfuscate the truth of our relationship.
To protect him. To protect My boy.
Fuck me, I still think of Ward like that, don’t I? Even after all these years.
