Looking down at her, I put on my best brotherly smile. She doesn’t dare pull away right now because she knows damned well that would draw the wrong kind of attention to her.
I again watch how I talk so no one can read my lips. “What’s wrong, Stell? Running out of excuses to keep Ellis in DC?” Yes, I can be a massive dick in addition to being a petty bitch.
Her lips part slightly even as she smiles. “Fuck you, Elliot.”
Bingo. That struck a bull’s-eye.
I shouldn’t enjoy her discomfort as much as I am but hey, I’m only human. Payback’s a bitch.
And so am I, it would seem.
A verypettybitch.
It feels like time slows to a torturous crawl until the polls finally close. Back up in the living room of the hotel suite, Leo, Jordan, and I watch as election returns start rolling in. We’re standing with my arms draped around Leo’s and Jordan’s shoulders and with theirs hooked around my waist. Meanwhile, Ciro is downstairs with his wife and whipping the crowd into a frenzy.
Good for him. He genuinely loves this shit and enjoys this part of it.
I don’t. In four years I’ll be happy to stump for him. For tonight?
I know what I said about winning. Except if I lose, tomorrow morning I can literally get spit-roasted across theResolutedesk by these two men and who even cares if it goes out live on CNN?
They believe in me, though. They keep me going.
Dammit, I don’t know how I’ll spend the rest of my life making this up to them. Their sacrifice, their dedication, the long hours, the stress and secrecy—all of it.
I owe them in ways it might be impossible to repay.
But I’ll damn sure try.
Kev walks over to join us, glancing around before he leans in and speaks in low tones. “You know this is in the bag, right? Your poll numbers are way too strong. Better than last time.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I mutter before realizing exactly what I’ve said. Both Leo and Jordan look at me and wear nearly identical scowls.
“Do we need to have a private discussion, Mister President?” Jordan asks.
I shake my head. “No, Sir,” I whisper as the CNN anchor starts listing the states they’re presumptively calling for me not even fifteen minutes after the first polls closed on the East Coast.
Only two go red out of that batch for a combined fifteen Electoral College votes. I’m already three times that in blue states and quickly pulling ahead in the tally.
Including Pennsylvania.
Against my back, between my shoulder blades, both Jordan and Leo are doing that thing with their hands, scrunching their fingers.
What I wish I could do is drop to my knees in front of both of them—or at least in front of Leo while Jordan kneels next to me—and rest my head on their feet and let them take over for me.
How’d I get…here?
I thought I knew what I wanted out of life. I thought I knew what I was getting myself into.
When Shae asked me to join her on the ticket I thought I was fast-tracking myself into the White House. I mean, thatisexactly what I ended up doing. What I always thought I wanted.
I always considered myself incisive and driven. I didn’t realize the full cost to myself in the process, or to the people I love. I didn’t realize how hard and fast I was runningaway. It’s what I’ve always done—flee from my uncomfortable truths.
These two men have remained at my side through it all even when I’ve been a spectacular dumbass.
I’m tired. I’m sooo fucking tired.
I’m tired of Jordan having to run interference for us and hiding things. I’m tired of fielding what feels like endless queries from women hoping to snap me up, and from people related to women who are looking for an in with me.
