Westley swipes my key to do a sweep of my room before leaving me for the night. As he turns on the light, I gasp. There’s a bouquet of blue lilies on the table. Wes hands me the accompanying sealed card, then proceeds to check the suite from top to bottom. I open the little envelope, stupidly swooning, knowing who they’re from before even reading it.
Already miss you, babygirl.
It’s not signed but in his handwriting, and I sigh to myself. “What am I going to do with this man?”
“He needs to be more careful,” Wes insists, more gruff than usual.
I lean forward to breathe them in. “They’re just flowers. It’s fine.”
“Which he ordered to your room.” Letting out a long sigh, he makes his way to the bathroom and I follow as he checks the small drawers. “My wife was under the same scrutiny that you are before she relinquished her royal title. If it gets out that you’re receiving gifts from the Canadian Prime Minister, you’re not going to be painted as two people in love, reconnecting after years apart. They’ll claim you’re an opportunist and used your husband’s death to launch your political career. It doesn’t matter what the truth is.”
“You’re right. I’ll remind him of what Ned told us.”
I take out my phone to text Isaac but spot one from Aubrey. I click on it first, and it says she’s going downstairs to the hotel bar for a ginger ale and wants to know if I need anything. I let her know I’m fine, then text Isaac. He doesn’t reply right away, and once Wes leaves, I shower and get changed for bed. As I’m about to plug in my phone, there’s a new text.
Isaac
I promise I’ll be on my best behavior from now on. Unless you wear that blue dress you wore in D.C.
I glance over to my suitcase, where that dress is most definitely packed, and can’t help the stupid grin on my face.
What if I do?
Guess you’ll just have to find out the hard way.
20
Isaac
The storm is beginning to pick up, and even if we’re not snowed-in this week, there’s a good chance the roads won’t be clear enough to drive to and from the convention center. The hotel attached to it is fully booked, but I pack a bag, just in case there’s a last-minute vacancy. With all of my staff here for the week, I may be able to crash with one of them.
Once I arrive and make my way through security, I leave my bag with the front desk. Wandering to the convention space to check in, I’m scanning every face I pass, hoping one of them is my girl. I won’t be able to touch her; the best I can hope for is a friendly hug. I fucking hate it. What I would give to have a single stolen moment to do more than shake her hand.
I spot Westley wearing all black and an earpiece—Livy can’t be far. The moment she’s in view, my heart skitters to a stop. We lock eyes, but only for a second before she continues her conversation with Aubrey. Olivia’s a fucking vision, wearing a blue dress with a black blazer. Of course it isn’t just any dress,it’sthedress. Cerulean, as Aubrey called it. In a damn trance, I can’t take my eyes off her.
As they approach, Aubrey breaks the spell I’m under, greeting, “Good morning, Prime Minister.” She shakes my hand and leans in to whisper, “Behave, Isaac. All eyes are on her this week.”
She’s right. This entire event is happening because of my brilliant, selfless Livy. No matter how much I crave her, I keep a safe distance, only offering a handshake. “Good morning, Governor. I’m excited for our roundtable discussion later.”
“There’s nothing exciting about people who are starving,” she retorts.
Even though she’s right, I’m taken aback by the comment. Olivia knows where I stand politically, and the work I’ve done over the years. I’m genuinely confused why she’d have such a harsh tone with me.
What’s changed since last night? Is this about the flowers?
Livy glances left, then right, and leans in to quietly tell me, “I’m sorry. I love you.” With her this close, her sweet perfume fills my nostrils. Coupled with those three little words, I have to stifle a groan. She rights her posture, but the lust in her eyes is unmistakable. “Thank you for the invitation to attend.”
As she brushes past me, her hand grazes mine, a ghost of a touch. I spin in place, needing one last look at her, but my admiration comes to a screeching halt when Aubrey’s sing-song voice pierces the bubble I’ve been in. “Sorry,Daddy Isaac, don’t get any ideas. I’m next door to her.”
Oh, I have more than ideas…
I shamelessly watch them walk away, and in true Olivia fashion, she glances back once. Despite her serious expression, her eyes are bright, full of fire. For months, I’ve imagined what it would be like to have her here, proudly by my side, showing the world that she’s mine as much as I’m hers. But it’s just that—my imagination, a dream.
I retrieve my badge and lanyard, then make my way to the large conference room where we’ll be hosting one of the roundtable discussions. Checking the nameplates, I adjust where Livy’s sitting so she’ll be across from me. If I can’t touch her, I at least want to have an excuse for not being able to take my eyes off her.
The first panel of the day begins soon, so I head to one of the ballrooms that’s set with a large stage and theater-style seating. We have a variety of speakers scheduled, including a social worker, dietary specialist, and a few education experts. The moderator is a psychology professor from a local university who jumped at the opportunity to interview. The focus of this panel is to discuss the impact of malnourishment in school-aged children and how to combat the problem.
A few people are already seated, talking quietly amongst themselves. I find a seat in the front, and several minutes later, the space is filled with attendees. Even through the chatter, Olivia’s voice pierces it, and I have to resist searching for her—but there’s no harm in eavesdropping.
