by T. A. Foster
“My family can take the time to grieve in peace now.”
They all sounded appropriate. They all sounded like things I should say, only there were more things I could have said. I had to keep those to myself.
“Just the bare minimum,” Paxton had warned. “If you give them any morsel, they’ll run with it. Keep it short and simple.”
“Is this how you were trained?” I asked.
He chuckled. “I had professional coaches and image consultants, but yes, it was something like this.”
I turned off the bedroom lights. He followed me to the bed.
“How long do you think before we can stop sneaking between houses?” I asked.
My apathy included not caring what people thought anymore. Spence was gone. Paxton was taking care of me. He made dinner for me the night’s he didn’t attend a political function. He made sure my wineglass was always full, and he made sure the last thing I saw before I fell asleep was him on top of me. This was my new normal.
“I think as soon as the election is over we should be together publically.” He stood behind me, rubbing against my back.
“November?” It seemed reasonable.
“By then it will have been a few months since Spencer’s death. Also, I think it will give meaning to how our relationship started. People will see this as a love story, not something dirty. You’ll see. Voters forgive.” He peeled the pants from my thighs, and I willingly stepped out of them. He spread my legs apart, stopping to cup my ass.
“I don’t see how, Pax. This is dirty.” My body was already trembling, needing him, needing things to be hard and rough. I didn’t want tender and sweet.
He nipped at my ear. “You a widow. Me a widower. Finding comfort together. It’s political poetry.” He unsnapped the hook on my bra and took me in his hands.
I leaned back against his shoulder while he pinched and squeezed me. “Poetry?” I groaned.
“Poetry. Like how you sound when I do this.” He bent me over the side of the bed. My head was spinning. He was making me wait, torturing me, asking me what I wanted. Finally, when I answered him and told him I needed him, he slammed into me and I screamed. I smiled, knowing I could stop thinking now.
So, I gave my interviews as he instructed. I practiced my lines. I read his speeches and gave suggestions. There was no contest for the senate seat now that Hughes was out of the race preparing for a trial, but Paxton wanted to give the campaign the best he had. There were still two independent candidates, and he said he had to catch any undecided Hughes fans. Every vote counts, he reminded me.
Little by little, I started staying longer each morning. Breakfast, turned to lunch. Some days, lunch turned into dinner. I brought Pepper with me. He slept on the couch. Paxton never said anything.
I watched TV. I drank wine. I waited for night to come when Pax would take me under.
Weeks passed like that. He never complained if I didn’t shower. He didn’t tell me I needed to start looking for another job. He let me be, as long as I was in his bed at night.
Tomorrow was Election Day. I tossed a few eggs in the frying pan and whisked them over the heat. Paxton walked into the kitchen, wearing his dark suit. The black one that set off his eyes. My breath hitched.
“Eggs?” I cracked another one into the pan.
“No, I have to meet the team to go over polling numbers.”
“Polling numbers? You’re practically the senator now. The election is just a formality.”
I smile crept across his face. “Not for tomorrow’s election. It’s to talk about the next one.”
“What do you mean?”
“The governor’s race.”
“What?”
He was light on his feet, bouncy almost. “Polls are showing I’m an early contender. If I can get these mid-term elections wrapped up, we’ll launch my campaign for governor immediately.”
“But you haven’t even voted on your first piece of legislation. You haven’t done anything yet.” This was more proof I was illiterate in the political world.
“I’ve got to stay one step ahead. I should thank you.” He kissed me on the forehead.
“Me?”
“Yes. The initial feedback shows that 80 percent of voters could see you as first lady of the state.”
I almost dropped the pan of eggs on the floor before I scooped them onto my plate. “What are you talking about?”
“First lady. You know of South Carolina.” His eyes gleamed. He crammed a muffin into his mouth and poured coffee in a to-go cup. “They love that you are a first grade teacher.”
“That’s what this is?”
“You’re mad?” He fastened the lid on top.
“We haven’t talked about anything like that. It’s presumptuous, I think.”
“Audrey, we’ve made it through hell together. We sleep together every night. You’re in my kitchen, wearing my shirt, making breakfast. I want this. I know I want this. And apparently the focus group wants it too.”
I shook my head. “This is crazy. First lady? I don’t know anything about politics. But it’s more than that. I don’t know that I want to get married again. I can’t think about marriage.” I had moved my wedding ring to my right hand after the funeral. It felt better there. I looked at it now.
He looked at his phone and typed in a text. “Look, I’ve got to go. We’ll talk about this tonight. See you at dinner.” He kissed me brusquely on the cheek. “Just think about it, Audrey.”
“Can we move?” There were candles and roses. Champagne and a ring perched in a velvet box sitting in front of me on the coffee table. The diamond was large. Too large.
Paxton looked puzzled. “Where?”
“Just out of this neighborhood. I don’t want to see my house anymore.” I couldn’t live here and look over there.
“Yes, yes, we can move. We have to stay in the district, but you can pick any house you want.” He was still on his knee. “Does that mean you’ll say yes? You’ll marry me?”
“It’s only been three months,” I stated. I knew exactly how many days, but that wasn’t the kind of detail Paxton wanted to hear in the middle of his proposal.
“We can keep it to ourselves for a while. Maybe make an announcement after the holidays. Plan a summer wedding?” he suggested.
“No wedding.” I blinked.
“We can’t get married without a wedding.”
“A ceremony. A court ceremony. I don’t want a minister. No flowers. No big poofy dress. We’ve both done that.”
“What if I just fly us to Vegas and swing through one of those drive-through chapels?” He was mocking me.
“I don’t care. Just promise me no wedding.”
“No wedding. And you want a new house. Anything else?”
“Do you love me, Pax?”
My eyes landed on his gaze. Those lashes had caught me off guard the first time we met. I had wanted to swim in those dark pools of mystery until I was lost. I wanted to drown in them, go under, gasping for air. And now I was.
“God, you know I do. I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life. I can keep you safe. I know I can make you happy.”
It had started to happen, the sprinkles of happiness. I repressed them. Told myself I didn’t deserve a respite from my misery, but they were there anyway. When Paxton walked in the door after a fundraising event, I would smile. When he washed my back in the shower, I let my body be caressed by his hands. When he stuck post-it notes around the kitchen for me to find in the morning, I saved them. The darkness was turning gray. Paxton was healing me.
“Yes.” I flicked a tear from my lashes.
“Yes?” He grabbed the ring and threaded it over my knuckle, making sure it fit snugly. “You don’t know what this means to me.”
“I do.” I pressed my forehead against his. “I know.”
He kissed me tenderly. “First the senate seat and now this. I’m the luckiest man on the planet.” He held the ring up to the light. “You like it?”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Good. I want you to like it. I want to make you happy. I swear I’ll do whatever it takes. You’re going to be happy again, baby. I swear. This life we’re building—it’s everything.”
I was able to turn it off again—the guilt, the feelings of cheating and dirtiness. With champagne coursing through my veins and a new rock on my hand, I promised myself to him. Pledging I’d be his wife, giving him what he wanted. It would keep me from drifting, I told myself. Pax wouldn’t let me submerge in the darkness. There was relief in his arms.
On Election Day, Paxton Tanner became the next state senator from our district. He was humble and gracious. He promised his constituents to listen to all of them, no matter their affinity for blue or red. His speech was televised across the state, because his story had become popular. He was popular. I watched it from his couch while Pepper slept at my feet.
Paxton was right. Voters forgave. They also forgot.
We spent the holidays together in a cabin we rented in Vail. My family was upset and confused I didn’t come home for Christmas, but they knew I was mourning Spencer. I wasn’t sure Avery would want me to invade her cheery time at home. It was better for everyone if I stayed away.
Worse than that were the calls from Spencer’s mom. She wanted to see me, wanted some reminder of her son over the holidays. The problem was, I didn’t.
I didn’t want anything to be the same. Everything had to be different. Vail was different. My life with Pax was different.
He dropped the bags on the living room floor. I looked around our cabin, if you could call it that. It was more like a winter palace.
“This is incredible.” The fireplace was lit. There was a twelve-foot Christmas tree in the corner. There were wrapped white and gold boxes under the limbs. I smelled dinner in the oven.
“You like it?” he asked.
I looped my arms around his neck. “It’s beautiful. When you said we were renting a cabin I pictured a one-bedroom log cabin for some reason. A week of flannel and drinking beer. Maybe we would hang up a wreath.”
He chuckled. “It’s Christmas time. I tend to go over the top.”
He pulled my hands from around his neck and squeezed them. “Where’s your ring?” He traced the empty place on my finger.
I reached into my pocket and slipped the rock over my knuckle. “I-I just wanted to wait until we were out of town.”
He kissed my forehead. “I understand. You’re not ready for everyone to know about our relationship.” He led me to the fireplace. The heat felt good. “But soon everyone will know that you’re going to be my wife. Soon. And then you can wear it everyday.”
I closed my eyes and leaned against his chest. “Pax, I still need more time. I’m sorry. The holidays are bringing up a lot of memories.”
He tilted my chin with his forefinger. “Don’t apologize. We’re here together. We’re getting married. If you need a little time to get your bearings I get that.”
“Thank you,” I whispered. It was good to be out of Charleston. Away from my boxes of Christmas ornaments and Spence’s tacky blinking lights. Away from the silly stockings we had given each other. Away from the holiday parties.
“Do you think you’ll always wear the other ring, though?” His eyes locked on my right hand.
“Does it bother you?”
“I know it’s sentimental, Audrey, but another man put that on your finger. I don’t wear the one Sarah gave me. It’s in my dresser drawer. At home.”
I yanked on the platinum band. I hadn’t thought it would make Pax uncomfortable. The truth was I didn’t consider his feelings when I looked at it.
“I’m not asking you to take it off.” He squeezed my shoulders.
I shook my head. “I know, but you’re right. I can’t wear your ring on one hand and Spence’s on the other.” I wedged my wedding band into my pocket where the engagement ring had been.
He grinned.
“How about a couple of drinks?” He walked to the bar. It was stocked with every liquor imaginable.
“Sounds good.” I nodded.
He placed a couple of glasses on the granite top and started to pour us generous servings of brandy. His phone rang.
“Tanner,” he answered. “Yep. Yep. I think I could bring them on board. They’re old family friends…yep…we could use their support.”
He handed a glass to me and walked into another room, the phone pressed to his ear.
I curled up on the couch, savoring the brandy as it warmed me from within. We might have been leaving as much of Charleston behind as we could, but I knew the future was always going to be tugging on Pax.
The chalet was decadent right down to the bearskin rug. It could have housed several large families for the holidays. It was an extravagant trip—something I never would have been able to afford.
I watched the flames flicker.
He returned ten minutes later and sat next to me on the couch. It was snowing and everything outside had a white glow, even in the dark.
“Sorry about that. We’re working on adding to the donor list. I need big names.”
“I thought you had big names.”
“I need bigger.” He took a swig of brandy.
“Don’t people know you’re on vacation?” I questioned. “It’s Christmas.”
“It doesn’t really work like that. I’m not going to be governor without the backing the campaign needs. I’m kind of at their mercy right now.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about that.” I stared at the falling snow.
“Look, it’s going to be hectic for awhile, but we’ll figure this out together. I need you to support my career. I can’t do it if you’re not on board.”
“I do support you. I never saw myself in politics. It’s just so different, Pax. And it’s Christmas. Can’t we just have this?”
“I know, baby.” He took the glass from me and placed it on the table. “But I need you to understand this is part of who I am. This is my life.” He twisted my body until I was directly under him. “I need you.”
“I need you too.”
He kissed me. I arched toward him, drinking the brandy off his lips. My hands clinging to his back. The ring on my left hand sparkling in the firelight as he shed every stitch of clothing from our bodies.
I convinced him to wait until the spring to announce our engagement. Eight months would still seem undeniably quick to the public, but considering we were previously involved, it might not come across as rushed. His team had a way to spin our story into a tragic love story. We were suffering losses from our spouses and only together we could heal. It was masterfully choreographed.
The polling numbers hadn’t changed. The “Tanner for Governor” campaign would kick off in a year. Although, I knew it was already underway. The fundraising dinners were almost nightly. It took millions to be governor.
As soon as we returned from Vail Pax gave me the task of finding our new home. He said he would take care of selling both of ours, but he wanted me to choose a new place that would make me happy. A place we could start our life together.
He was in Columbia most days I met with our realtor, but I accepted that this was a way I could help him—lessen his workload.
It took a few months, but I finally settled on a house in a gated beach community. The rooms were large. The porch stretched from one end to the other. It looked nothing like our old neighborhood. I was certain it would be a fresh start for both us, but I knew it was more important to me than Pax. He would have been just as happy if I had moved into his house.
It fit our criteria. It was in his district and it was devoid of memories. Of course, we couldn’t move in until we were married. We were trying to let our relationship progress publically, and many constituents wouldn’t approve of our arrangement if we hadn’t exchanged vows. Howe
ver, I could spend the next few months moving things in and planning the décor. We were going to start hosting dinner parties and lunches for our political friends. It had to look like a governor’s home.
The boxes were marked with large white labels. My handwriting scrawled across each one. I remembered how I used to take my time to make sure each letter was perfectly formed on the chalkboard. I had teacher handwriting, people used to tell me.
The hall closet was empty. It was easy, when I threw everything in trash bags. I looked at the black trash bag filled with teacher mugs and apple frames. I didn’t need them at the new house. I wasn’t a teacher anymore.
I insisted on packing up the house myself. I didn’t want Paxton involved. It was the last bit of my former life memorialized inside these walls. I didn’t want him intruding. Of course, that would hurt his feelings. Crush him, really. But I used all the excuses I could fabricate to keep him from helping. It worked, and I took two weeks sorting, packing, and trashing what was left of my life with Spence.
“Knock, knock! Audrey?”
I heard Cricket’s voice from my bedroom. I walked into the kitchen. They were all there. My neighbors from book club. The women who had taken us in when we first moved here six years ago.
“Hi.” I smiled.
“I’m glad we didn’t miss you,” Mrs. Ellerby broke the silence.
“No, I haven’t left yet.”
“I can’t wait to see the new house,” Jill added. “I’ve heard good things about that neighborhood.”
“Thanks. Yes, we’ll have to have you over.”
“Do you need any help?” Cricket surveyed the kitchen. “A few extra hands could make this go a lot faster.”
“No. I’m almost done. I’m just bagging up the rest of my clothes.” I had decided the clothes I could take. The rest was off to Avery or Goodwill.
“You sure, honey? We’d love to do something.”
“I appreciate it. Really. And thanks for stopping by. I was going to come see you all before I left.” We all knew that wouldn’t happen, but it sounded nice to say it. I could pretend I was the neighbor who did those things. The neighbor I always wanted to be.