“Don’t be. But one day I’ll look back on this morning, remembering how it felt to kiss the most amazing woman I’ve ever met and how I hated that I had to let her go.”
All at once, the fireworks he set off are now only smoke. “Maybe we should just be friends?” I offer. “You’re only here for a few months, and this could get a bit… messy.”
“Is that what you want?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Well, there’s nothing wrong with messy.”
Isaac’s wide smile reignites the swirl of lust inside me again, but he’s wrong. I’m absolutely going to get my heart broken.
After leading me inside the coffee shop, we order our usuals. He beats me to the card reader, but only by a second.
“Not a chance,” he laughs, tucking his card back into his wallet.
“I hope this isn’t because of my sob story yesterday.”
The grin he’s worn most of the morning falls. As we walk over to the handoff bar, he insists, “You could be a millionaire who’s never had a shitty date with some asshole, and I’d still want to treat you to coffee. We’re not going to be friends, Olivia, and I take care of what’s mine.”
“Yours?”
“Only if you want to be.”
Gripping my chin with his thumb and forefinger, he brings my lips to his with a kiss I feel all the way to my toes. This is incredibly stupid, and I’m going to get hurt, but like he said, life’s too short to be ashamed of things you enjoy. So, for now, I’m going to kiss a man I shouldn’t be with but can’t help wanting anyway.
4
Isaac
PRESENT DAY - ELECTION NIGHT
Ican’t remember the last time I was on edge like this. Not when I became Prime Minister two years ago. Not four years ago when the US elected their first female President and Vice President. Not when the Quebéc City Dynasty won the Stanley Cup.
No. Tonight, I have the same pit of dread in my stomach that I had when Olivia publicly announced her engagement. The same uneasiness I had when I had to say goodbye to her.
The biggest regret of my life was leaving.
Sipping my whiskey, I lean back in my office chair, clicking through the election coverage on TV. The polls in California closed an hour ago, and while the presidential race appears to be in favor of the incumbent, Jaclyn Taylor, the only updates I care about are Olivia's.
It’s nearly midnight, and as I’m about to shut off the TV, a projected winner banner flashes across the screen. The reporter announces, “In one of the closest gubernatorial races in California’s history, Democratic candidate Olivia Harris isprojected to become the youngest and first female Governor in the state.”
“That’s my girl,” I sigh to myself, relief washing over me. Tears prick behind my eyes; I’m so fucking proud of her.
While we haven’t spoken in nearly fifteen years, a promise is a promise. Setting down my drink, I look up her campaign office number, and while calling her from my cell could be risky, there’s no harm in congratulating in an official capacity. As I dial her number, I take a deep breath before I press the final digit. It rings four times, and my heart stops as I hear her generic voicemail greeting.
With there being a good chance a staffer will hear it and not her, I keep my message brief. “Governor-elect Harris, this is Prime Minister Banks, and I’d like to formally congratulate you on your win this evening. It’s been a pleasure watching your political career over the past five years, and I wish you the utmost success in your new position, Livy.”
Hanging up, I hate how formal I sounded, but I had to be safe. For all I know, she’ll never hear it. After turning off the TV, I check in with my protective detail, then head home, still unable to wipe the smile off my face—I never should’ve doubted she’d win tonight. She always insisted she wasn’t meant for public office, but she’s magnetic, genuine. Everyone loves her, as they should.
On the drive home, I think back to the few short months I spent with the one woman I’ll crave until my last breath. I never should’ve talked to Olivia that day at the coffee shop, and definitely shouldn’t have given her my number or asked her out. I knew the moment I kissed her I’d never be able to let her go. Dating the woman you’re supposed to spend the rest of yourlife with, while knowing you can’t keep her, is a special kind of masochism I’ll never forgive myself for. I’ve tried to move on—was even engaged for a year—but no one ever held a candle to Olivia. Seeing her in the spotlight only makes the ache stronger, the pain almost unbearable.
She’ll never be mine again.
As I walk up the steps to my door, my phone vibrates in my breast pocket. I quickly retrieve it, stupid hope filling my chest that she could be calling. Luck isn’t on my side, showing an American number not already saved in my phone. I don’t recognize the area code, and it’s likely spam, but with it being the middle of the night on election day in the US, it could be from President Taylor’s reelection campaign waiting on my public statement.
Stepping inside, I answer, “This is Banks.” There’s a pause, but whoever is on the other line sucks in a breath. “Hello?”
“Isaac,” she whispers with an undeniable smile in her voice. It’s been fifteen years—fifteen long years of missing her—but hearing my name from Olivia’s lips transports me back as if no time has passed.
