But…yeah. I’m not into golf and really don’t enjoy all the attention focused on me any time I do something “active” outdoors.
That’s the only bad part about tomorrow but since it’s for a worthy cause—benefitting the charity,duh, not the proposal—I’ll deal.
It’s almost nine when I finish eating, clean up the dishes and leave them in the sink, ask my detail to keep the residence cleared of staff for the evening, with the exception of Leo and Jordan, obviously, and carry my briefing materials into the private living room where I shut myself in.
After a shower and changing into sleep shorts and a T-shirt, I use my wheelchair to return to the living room and turn the TV on in there. I’m going to give myself a longer break from Duck tonight because I’ll be doing a lot of walking tomorrow.
And hopefully wearing myself out tomorrow night.
Stretching out on the sofa, I let the TV play unwatched while I prop another briefing book on my stomach and resume reading. There’s always briefing material to go through.
Always.
It wouldn’t shock me if Leo and Jordan butt heads in the beginning when it comes to me. Jordan sometimes orders me to stop working and take a few hours off in the evenings.
Leo being Leo, would never do that if he thought it was something work-related.
If it wasn’t for Jordan I’d likely rarely do anything but work, workout, eat, and sleep. And even then the last item would probably be sporadic and not even close to approaching a healthy schedule.
I have no idea what time it is when I startle awake to find Jordan smiling down at me, the briefing book I’d dozed off over now in one arm. “Hey,” he softly says, his other hand cupping my cheek. “It’s past your bedtime.”
My heart races, both from the sudden awakening and the fact that if he’s back it means Leo’s here. I sit up, groggy and disoriented. “What time is it?”
“Almost one.”
I hear the living room door open, and there’s Leo, with an overnight bag slung over his shoulder. Even at this time of night he’s dressed in a suit. “Did we wake the pet?” he teases.
“Hi, Master.”
Jordan snorts. “Yep. I’m chopped liver.” Which makes Leo laugh.
“Sorry, Sir.” I kiss him.
Leo crosses the room and hands his bag over to Jordan to take care of. He carries it on into the bedroom while Leo stands in front of me, hands out and wiggling his fingers.
I take them and let him pull me up, where he kisses. “Missed you, pet.”
“Missed you, too, Master.”
“Let’s go to bed.” He keeps hold of one hand as he pulls my wheelchair close, even though I don’t need him for balance and he knows it.
Five minutes later, we’re all snuggled in bed together with Leo in the middle, and Jordan and I both have our leather collars on.
It’s tempting to blurt the proposal out now. But I’ve lasted this long. I can wait until tomorrow and do it right. If I had any doubts about him saying yes, obviously I’d do it in private.
Except, here’s the thing—IknowLeo’s going to say yes. I won’t have to pressure him to accept my proposal. He’s flat-out told me, countless times over the years, that when I’m ready to come out and propose, he’s ready to marry me.
What I’m doing tomorrow is finally giving him the public acknowledgement he’s long overdue and rightfully deserves.
I can’t wait to see the look on his face.
I owe him this.
I owe him a grand gesture, apublicgesture.
Because I owe Leoeverything.
I owe Leo for me being elected POTUS.
