"So not following Daddy's footsteps into politics?"
"God no," slips out with heat. "I want to work with non-profits and LGBTQ+ advocacy groups. Use the Huntington name for something that helps people."
I stop, realizing I've told James way more than I planned to. "I'll go to the fancy law school and get the prestigious degree,but what I do with it will be my choice. My version of rebellion, I suppose."
James looks at me for a second, and I see something that might be respect in his eyes. "That's pretty smart, playing the long game."
"It's survival. I've learned to pick my battles with my family."
He nods. "Well, for what it's worth, I think you'd be excellent at advocacy work. You've got the perfect combination of insider knowledge and outsider perspective."
The compliment hits me out of nowhere, I wasn't expecting it, and he seems to genuinely mean it. Before I can respond, another group of my parents' friends walks up to us, and we smoothly switch back to the social act.
As we continue to move around the room, I'm impressed by how well James interacts with everyone. He speaks well but doesn't show off, and he's polite without being ass-kissing. When Senator Wilson starts pontificating about cybersecurity, even though he clearly knows nothing about it, James gently but firmly corrects him with such tact that the Senator ends up thanking him for the information.
"You're good at this," I whisper as we move away from that group. "I'm impressed."
"Years of practice dealing with clueless people who think they understand technology," he explains. "Same principle, correct without humiliating."
"Well, it's working. Even my mother's watching you with that calculating look she gets when reevaluating an asset."
"Is that what I am? An asset?"
"To her? Everything and everyone is an asset or a liability. With no middle ground in campaign thinking."
"And to you?" he asks, his dark eyes surprisingly intent.
Before I can answer, a familiar voice interrupts from behind me. "Caleb Huntington, as I live and breathe."
Every muscle in my body tenses at once. I know that voice. I've spent years trying to forget it.
Turning slowly, I make my face go blank. "Christopher. I heard you were attending tonight."
Christopher Montgomery stands before us, holding a whiskey and wearing the same smug smile I remember. At thirty-two, he's a decade older than me, though he tries hard to look younger. His family's manufacturing fortune has funded both his lifestyle and my father's campaigns for years.
"And who's this?" Christopher holds out his hand as his eyes travel over James with unconcealed interest.
"James Hunter." His arm slides around my waist, returning the handshake, pulling me slightly back and away from Christopher. "The boyfriend." The words are polite. The body language is pure 'fuck off.'
Christopher's attempted handshake hangs in the air, ignored. He drops it with a tight smile. "Christopher Montgomery. Old family friend. I've known Caleb since he was a teenager."
"Fascinating." James’s tone is all kinds of flat and dismissive.
The exchange makes me feel ill. James subtly shifts in close to me, his arm tightening around my waist in a move that feels protective and real to me.
"Anyway," James continues smoothly, dismissing Christopher completely. "I'm afraid we need to speak with the Hendersons before they leave. You will excuse us?"
He navigates us away before Christopher can respond, steering me toward a quieter corner of the room.
"You okay?" he asks once we're out of earshot. "You went pale."
"I'm fine… Actually, no. I'm not. Who are the Hendersons?
“I don't know, but it sounded good.”
I stare at him for a second, then start laughing. The absurdity of James making up random people just to escape Christopher breaks through the tension.
"Seemed to work." James's half-smile fades quickly. "But you're still pale."
