Admiration shone from Madden’s and Archer’s eyes. “Good for you. Get in front of this and take control.”
With a wink at Brenner, I tipped my head to them. “I’m all about taking control.” Brenner shook with laughter.
“I can’t believe you’re handling this so well.”
The reality was, inside I was falling apart, but not in public. I’d never allow that. The time might come where I’d shatter completely, but Brenner would be there to pick up my piecesand help put me back together. The same yet different. Forever changed.
My mind ran in a hundred directions as to the best way to handle the situation. One thing I’d learned growing up in a political family was to make sure you always had an answer prepared.
“I’m not, trust me. But I’m staying.”
The room filled up, and I recognized New York’s social elite, board members of museums, the opera and ballet, plus a mix of television and Broadway stars. Of course the press was close by, always sniffing for a juicy tidbit or scandal. Brenner remained steadfast by my side, hand in mine. I nudged his cheek with my nose.
“You look like my bodyguard instead of my boyfriend. That glower is killer.” I lowered my voice. “And fucking hot.”
“Weston Lively?” A husky voice interrupted my flirting, and I tensed, ready for battle. A tall man, midforties, tanned and trim, with flinty gray eyes, stood poised with his phone at the ready.
“Yes, that’s me. And you are?” I raised a brow, using my don’t-fuck-with-me voice.
“Chuck Peterson, Channel Eight news. What did you think of your father’s speech in North Carolina today?”
“What do you mean?” I sure as hell wasn’t about to volunteer anything. Let him ask the question.
He blinked. “Your father accepted the endorsement of the very right-wing, evangelical, influential pastor, Austen Carlyle.”
“Quite a lot of adjectives for one man.” I chuckled, but Peterson didn’t join in.
“Mr. Lively, how do you feel about your father rejecting you because you’re gay?”
A small crowd had gathered around us—Madden and Archer a step behind us while Christine hovered with Tony. A woman close to my age with similar facial features as Madden stood by Christine.
“First of all, I’m not gay. I’m bisexual. I’ve dated women my whole life, but I happened to fall in love with a man. And you know what?” I tapped my jaw, pretending to be deep in thought. “I find it funny that you’re asking me that question. MaybeIrejectedhimand his refusal to accept my relationship. You see, I don’t grovel for anyone’s attention.”
Eager to get what he perceived as a scoop, Peterson continued on. “Is that what happened, Mr. Lively? Did you tell the senator that unless he approves of you and your boyfriend, you’re not going to participate in his campaign?”
Like sharks smelling blood, several more reporters circled us, one with a camera filming, and I had the audience I needed to make my statement. I didn’t ask for this fight, but my father had provoked and pushed me to my limit. He’d poked the bear, and I was ready to growl in return.
My grin was broad and bright. “Oh, no. I never had any intention of voting for him. He stands for everything I’m against. In fact…” I paused for effect, squeezing Brenner’s hand. I always did enjoy a bit of drama, and from Brenner’s dancing eyes and how hard he pressed his lips together, he knew. “If he does win the primary and becomes his party’s nominee, I plan on actively supporting his opponent in the general election.”
The uproar I’d counted on occurred, with the reporters shouting question after question at me. I held up my hands to quiet them.
“I have to insist you stop making this night about me. This is an incredible charity event for a very worthwhile cause. My mother, Melinda Weston, whom I’m named after, passed awayfrom an aggressive form of blood cancer, as did Brenner’s foster mother. I’m very grateful to Christine and Tony Gigante for inviting me tonight, and I plan to set up a trust in my mother’s name, which will donate to this yearly fund raiser. If you truly want an important story, speak with Christine, as she can tell you about all the research funded by the money raised each year from this event. Now, if you’ll excuse me, we’d like to move on and enjoy the rest of our evening. Good night.”
The questions didn’t stop, but I walked away, and with Brenner at my side, escaped to the opposite side of the room, where another bar awaited. I let out a long sigh, tension uncoiling from my stomach, and took the drink Brenner handed me. The glass trembled in my hand.
Brenner said, “I guess there’s no coming back from a speech like that.”
Surprised by his remark, I set the glass on the bar. “Why would I want to? I refuse to be a pawn in his political game. What he asked—for us to hide our relationship—is abhorrent. He doesn’t care for me or anyone else. Power is his one true love.”
Still, Brenner continued asking questions. “But Emily? Don’t you think this might hurt your chances to see her, even after what he said?”
I loved how despite all the terrible things that had happened between my father and me, Brenner’s wish was to keep my family intact because he understood how much my little sister meant to me.
“Are you forgetting Bill’s recording?”
“No, I’m not forgetting anything. But I wonder if your father will find a way to wiggle out of that promise he made you.”
“Paige is her mother, and she has a say as well. I’m not saying we’re going to be best friends or anything, but she’s the one who initiated the first meeting. I think we can work it out.”
