“Um, I’m sorry.” Cary leaned closer. “What was that now?”
“I want my own platform.” I sat up as straight as I could in the lumpy armchair. “I understand you’ll have to crunch the numbers and figure out exactly what we can promise. And that I would be using your campaign to advocate for something that benefits me personally. But so what? Corporations hire lobbyists to fight for them all the time.” I thought of Gia’s sad eyes in the teacher’s lounge, Muriel’s fear that, even after devoting forty years, her head could be next on the chopping block. “The people making decisions about education should have expertise in it, and who has more than us? Whyshouldn’twe stick up for ourselves?”
I realized I was breathing a little too heavily, so I forced myself to relax. “If you agree to adopt this position, you’ll rally educators to your side. And if you have educators on your side, I promise: the campaign will be unstoppable.”
It was the closest I’d ever come to giving my own speech. My heart was beating very fast. I resisted the urge to watch their reactions from behind my hands.
“Okay, Rudy.” Cary whistled. “Way to become everyone’s favorite underdog and unexpectedly clinch the game.” He turned to Logan. “Coincidentally, still the only movie to ever make my dad cry.”
“We can’t do it.” Nora leaned forward. “We’d have to redo our budget proposal. Talk to other constituent groups. Consult policy experts.” She shook her head at me. “You were supposed to want us to make you a TikTok influencer or put in a good word with your principal. Hell, I even looked up how to get Beyoncé to come back to Texas in case you wanted to meet her. I never imagined...” She shook her head, but this time, turned to Logan. “At best, it’ll look like you’re grasping. At worst, it’ll look like you’re letting your girlfriend dictate your politics, and that’ll make you look weak. Either way, you’ll face the same dilettante accusations we’ve worked so hard to avoid.”
“I’m sorry you see downsides,” I said carefully, heart skipping. I never disagreed with people out loud. “But this is what I’m asking for. If you want me to be Logan’s girlfriend, the campaign needs to stand up for educators. And I get to use my voice.”
Silence fell around the coffee table. I tried and failed not to sweat, feeling a misty dampness creep down my back. Finally, Logan cleared his throat, and all eyes turned to him. As blunt as he could be sometimes, I was learning that when it came to making hard choices, he tended to stand back and listen before talking. It seemed like a good, though possibly unusual quality in a politician.
He met my eyes, and—oh. In this moment, there was no pretending that being looked at by Logan—reallylooked at—didn’t simultaneously freeze me and make my insides soar. I could only hope the effect would fade with time.
“Fuck me,” he said, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Of course we’ll do it. It’s the right thing to do. Should’ve thought of it from the beginning.”
“Logan.”Nora’s voice was sharp, but her censure was tempered by her obvious surprise. A feeling I shared. Logan had just said yes to making a major change for me. And even though I’d asked for it, a persistent noise was now humming in the back of my mind that sounded suspiciously like the wordsHe’s doing what? Reverse!on loop.
He removed his hands from his face and knocked on the coffee table, one short, decisive rap. “Cary, will you call those economics guys first thing tomorrow? We need them to look at the numbers and find a way.”
Cary nodded smoothly. “Sure thing, boss.”
Logan turned to Nora and braced his hands on his knees. “People won’t think I’m weak, Nor. I promise. They’ll think I’m strong for dating someone smart and passionate, who cares enough about her work that she’s willing to go to bat. It’s the decision I’d make if Alexis and I were really dating, so it’s what I should do now.”
Nora looked like she was about to say something, a protest on the tip of her tongue, but then her eyes flitted between Logan and me and she seemed to come to a decision. “All right. If that’s the way you want to play it.”
“Thank you.” Logan turned to me. “And of course you should own the issue. You’re the expert and my partner.” He rose, running his hands down his slacks. “I mean, you know, as far as the world is concerned.”
I jumped to my feet and turned to include Nora and Cary. “I swear I won’t let you down.”
This was really happening. This year, I wasn’t going to hide my head in the sand and hope someone else fought the budget cuts. I was going to do it myself.
Oh, God: I was going to do it myself. On second thought, I didn’t know how to fight. And I hated the spotlight. I didn’t even like meeting strangers’ eyes in the grocery store. I felt an immediate gut-punch of regret.
“Have dinner with me,” Logan blurted, snapping me out of my spiral. Everyone’s heads whipped to him. “If we’re going to merge platforms,” he continued, voice softening, “I want to hear more of your thoughts.”
Our eyes locked. “That makes sense.” I spoke slowly, testing the words. “Like a business dinner.” This was good. We’d talk shop, figure out details together. But when Logan smiled and those small commas framed his dark eyes, my mind ran footage of him ushering the svelte Rockets cheerleader into a private car, topped with a flashing neon sign that said:Like a date.
“Excellent idea.” Nora stood and whipped out her phone. “A public outing. Something frothy so we can warm the public to Alexis before she starts campaigning. I’ll get reservations for this weekend and call my guy.”
“Nora,” Logan growled. “This isn’t a PR stunt. No photos.”
“Sure thing.” She put her hands up in mock surrender as she strolled to the door. “Like I said, if that’s the way you want to play it. You’re the boss.” But as she passed me, she winked, and I had the feeling that was not, strictly speaking, the truth.
12
The Love You Earn
My mother’s face popped up on my phone screen while I was up tomy elbows in chopped onions. “Ugh,” I groaned, but put the knife down and pressed Accept with a sticky finger. Time to clean the screen again.
“Alexis!” Mom’s giant grin fell. “Oh, no, what’s the matter with my baby?”
“Nothing,” I said, wiping my tears on my sleeve. “I’m just cutting onions.” While I’d never been able to convince my mom to call me Catherine Earnshaw or Elizabeth Wakefield growing up, I couldn’t get her to stop calling me baby now that I was grown.
“Oh, good,” she said—then, “Ow, Jingle Bell, no!” as a cat leaped and seized a strand of her hair.
