Of course she’d know where I was and what I was doing. It’s kind of her job.
I drop the binders onto my desk with more force than I mean to. “Not as good as I’d hoped I’d be doing right now.”
“This doesn’t have to happen publicly, you know. You can summon them both back here right now, take Leo out to the Rose Garden, and let the official photog shoot it and release it to the pool. That would be beautifully romantic and still a very public story.”
“He deserves better than that.”
“Uh, better than proposing to him at the fricking White House? There are literally people who’d pay to be able to stage that scene, dude.”
I glare at her because I hate when she’s right.
She’s not the slightest bit imposed and shakes her head at me. “Is the point to propose to him in front of the world to make him your husband, or to prove to yourself you finally came out? Because you know damned well Leo won’t care how it happens. Doesn’t have to be perfect. Besides, doing it like that means we can control how long it takes to release to the press, and it will give you a chance to talk to your parents first.”
My stomach churns. I know she’s right but for once in my life I’d like to do things totally on my terms and not anyone else’s.
Plus there’s another critical factor now. “I don’t want the news crawlers crowing about how a woman was shot, a man died, and yet the president not only proposed but came out as gay.”
Her head bobs back and forth in contemplation. “True. Good point.”
“I have them every once in a while.” I take a deep breath to give me a moment to tone back my snark. “How’s the woman doing?”
“She’s in surgery. But she’s stable and expected to be okay. They’ll let me know when she’s out of recovery and awake enough to talk so you can call her.”
“Thanks.”
She points her index finger at me and circles it, indicating my wheelchair. “Are we moping, or in legit pain, or what?”
“Yes.”
I realize how petulant I sound when she smirks. Before I realize it, we’re both laughing.
I slump back in my wheelchair. “This is so fucked up,” I admit.
She stands and hands me a cell phone. “That’s my personal cell,” she says. “Lock code’s 1515. Call your parents first and tell them you’re okay. They’re probably worried. Maybe tell them a few other things, huh? I’ll need it back in twenty if I’m going to get out of here and still make the puck drop.” She heads for the door. “And I’d better make the fucking puck drop, or I’m going to be one unholy biatch next week.”
“Where are you going?”
“I have shit I can do since I’m here and not shoveling the pre-written statement to Angie and talking her off the ledge for not letting her know ahead of time.” She leaves, closing the study door behind her.
I stare at her phone for a moment and then wheel over to the couch, transferring to it before I unlock the phone and dial my parents’ home number. It’s one of the few I know by heart. I know Casey’s number will come up on their caller ID because they have her number, as well as Jordan’s and Leo’s in case they ever want to call me and can’t reach me because I’m on the move.
Mom answers almost immediately. “Ms. Blaine?” I hate how worried she sounds. Even more, I hate that I let myself get so wrapped up in my personal misery that I didn’t call them sooner.
“It’s me, Mom. I’m on Casey-Marie’s phone. Jordan has mine and he’s not here right now.”
“Elliot! Oh, thank goodness! Are you all right?”
I’m certain the agents will have told them I’m fine but she’s my mom. “Yeah, I’m fine. It was a domestic violence incident. It was nowhere near me and had nothing to do with me.”
“What a relief! I called Stella but she didn’t know anything, and…”
That leads us into another ten minutes of Mom nervously talking at me in that way she has that tells me she loves me, with me mostly listening.
She did this a lot in the early days when I was first injured and called them from Germany while still in the hospital. Every conversation we had from that point on, until she was able to physically lay eyes on me in person and hug me, went along these lines.
I hate that she’s anxious. Sometimes I forget I wasn’t the only one who lost something when I nearly died.
There also doesn’t seem to be any good way for me to interrupt her to tell her I’m gay and that I want to marry Leo. I realize that without Jordan’s presence here to bolster me, I have no confidence.
