I realize why.
Taking a deep breath I shake my head. “No, Sir,” I whisper. “I’m okay.”
The frown furrowing his brow signals he’s not convinced.
“My meetings don’t require me to walk around,” I remind him. “I’ll tough it out.”
That was the wrong answer because his gaze narrows. “Sir, if you are in pain weneedto address it.”
Make no mistake, the way he says that word—sir—is in no way that of an employee to their boss.
He might as well have called meboyand snapped his fingers while pointing at the floor, because it has nearly the same effect on me.
“I’m all right, Sir,” I whisper. “Please don’t make me use my chair. If I was walking around a lot, sure, I might break down and ask for it. But not today, and not with the Speaker eating lunch with me.Please?”
That’s the last thing I need, one of the Speaker’s asshole aides leaking something to the press.
Or worse, to my brother-in-law.
It’s no secret I sometimes use crutches or a wheelchair in front of others but I try to keep those occasions to a minimum.
Jordan’s resigned sigh reveals he’s going to give in but he’s damned sure not happy about it. “I reserve the right to call for it ifIfeel you need it.” He finally steps aside and opens the study door for me.
I nod and head down the hallway to the Oval Office.
Why’d I want this job again?
Oh, yeah.
Because I’m an idiot.
* * *
“So what areyour plans for the holidays, sir?”
I inwardly groan. This is the third time the Speaker has not-so-subtly attempted to maneuver our conversation toward personal matters. The first two times, he worked his daughter’s name and single status into the mix. Now I expect he’s about to tell me—once again—that she’s single and has no plans for the holidays.
It’s me and him and a Secret Service agent in the small private dining room just off my study.
Sitting back, I dab salad dressing from my lips with my napkin. “John, we really don’t have a lot of time today. I’d like to nail down a rough outline of our agenda for the next session before we finish lunch.” He’ll be starting his tenth term in the House after handily winning re-election.
“I’m just saying, sir, there’s a lot of holiday events coming up. I know Meghan doesn’t have any plans if you need a volunteer to help with East Wing duties and take some of the burden off your plate.”
The words escape my mouth before I even realize I’ve said them. “There is no ‘burden’ on my plate. Please stop trying to play matchmaker because I’m not on the market.”
No, I can’t believe I said it either. I know my knee-jerk reaction has much to do with my current irritation over Stella’s latest round of pressure on me in combination with my pain-induced grouchy mood.
He looks…stunned. Which probably has more to do with my blatant irritation than what I actually said.
I take a deep breath. “Look,” I continue, not bothering to moderate my tone now that we’re doing this. “Ireallywish everyone would stop fixating on my personal life. I wasn’t elected to play out a DC version ofThe Bachelor. Just because I’ve never flaunted any of my relationships doesn’t mean I haven’t had any or don’t have one now. Frankly, I’d appreciate everyone staying the hell out of my personal business. Especially when I’m happy with the way it’s going. I’m embarrassed on everyone else’s behalf, the way they’re tripping over themselves when I’m not in need of pairing in the first place.”
His eyes widen a little. “I-I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean any disrespect. Ellis never said anything. I just thought you were—”
“Single, yeah. I know.” I might regret this later but I’m sick and tired of this bullshit. “Something you should understand is that there are alotof things my brother-in-law doesn’t know about me. I was raisednotairing my laundry, good or bad, unless it’s literal laundry. Just because I’m able to have a personal life without it hitting the press doesn’t mean I don’t have one.
“Did you ever think that maybe there’s someone in my life who doesn’t want to dodge the fricking press every time they need a gallon of milk, or want Fox or FNB sending hidden cameras after them at their job, because we’re not at a point in our relationship where we want it to be public knowledge? Maybe because we’re still trying to figure things out between us. Also, what I’ve just said is between the two of us. Don’t be spreading that around.Especiallynot to Ellis. Do I make myself clear?”
The look on his face means my tone has slid from snippy to pissed off by the time I conclude my tirade. “I’m sorry, Mister President. No offense intended.”
