I pulled the box out of my pocket, setting it on the desk between us.
I watched as the rest of the color simply slid from Jackie’s face. Panic filled her gaze as she looked first at the box and then at my expression.
“Open it.”
Her voice shook, her hands gripping the arms of the chair. “No.”
I continued, too far past the point of sanity to let go. “It was my grandmother’s. She would have liked you, I think.” I rubbed a hand over my face. “I wasn’t planning on proposing anytime soon, of course. I knew we were on a break until the election, and I knew you’d need time, figured I’d ease you into it.”
Ever since my lunch with Blair, I’d been unable to get the idea of marrying Jackie out of my head. I knew she wasn’t there yet, but I’d wanted the ring so that when she was, everything would be perfect.
“I wanted you to have the ring when I did ease you into it. It seemed right to save it for you. I went to see my mother and told her I was going to marry you—eventually, after I’d convinced you.” I laughed, the sound bleak. “Maybe that was my mistake, to think I could convince you to do anything.”
“Will—”
I shook my head. “I can’t keep doing this anymore. I’m tired. The sex is great and all, but you were right from the beginning. I’m not that guy. I’m not looking for a fuck buddy. I’m twenty-six, and maybe I’m staid and boring, but it’s who I am. I thought if I gave you time, you’d realize there was more to us than just sex. I thought you’d love me back.”
“Will—”
“I’m done.”
Jackie
When the word “love” came out of his mouth, all rational thought fled. When he put that velvet box on the desk, my heart fucking stopped. And now, listening to the words “I’m done,” he’d just ripped my heart out of my motherfucking chest and laid it down next to that terrifying little velvet box.
I wanted to open it. Some masochistic part of me wanted to slide that diamond onto my finger. I wanted to believe he loved me; wanted to be with him. I wanted it all, and felt like I deserved none of it, and didn’t know how to trust him when he’d turned my entire world upside down.
I never would have predicted he would propose, not in a million years. And he just sat there, hurling his anger my way, not giving me a chance to catch my breath or figure out what I wanted.
I’d hurt him. I could see that now. Could see that by not trusting him, I’d called his integrity into question, and for someone like Will, that was everything. But those pictures—seeing my father here in the office after seeing those pictures of Will with Blair—it hit too close to home. Maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe I should have trusted him; maybe I should have asked him about the photos before flying off the handle.
“I’m sorry if I jumped to the wrong conclusion.”
“If?” His eyebrow rose.
I flushed. “What would you have thought if you saw pictures of me with some guy? How would you have felt?”
“I’d like to say I wouldn’t have cared, that I would have trusted you, but you know what, you’re right, I probably would have felt the same way. That’s the problem. From the beginning, this thing between us has been—what, exactly?”
“We said we were exclusive.”
“For sex. And in the same breath, you told me it was fine for me to date a woman for appearances’ sake. And then you get pissed off because there are pictures of me and Blair, totally innocent pictures, but still.
“You don’t get to have it both ways. You tell me we need to slow things down, tell me we should take a break, that things are just casual. And then you come in here like a jealous girlfriend. You’re jerking me around.” He gestured toward the ring box. “My cards are on the table. I’ve told you what I want. What do you want? Because for the life of me I can’t figure it out.”
That was the problem. Neither could I.
“I don’t know, okay? I don’t know what I want. This is all so easy for you. You’re handsome, and rich, and charming, and everyone fucking fawns all over you, and you can’t take a wrong step.
“I don’t know what I want, and I can’t afford to screw my life up. I don’t have a safety net. So excuse me if at twenty-one, I’m still figuring my shit out. Excuse me if I didn’t plan on getting proposed to before I even graduated college. I didn’t even know you a month ago, and now you’re looking at me like I’m your future, and I’m trying to catch up.”
Will
Maybe I was the crazy one. Maybe we were just at different points in our lives. Or maybe the problem was that I was in love with her, and she wasn’t in love with me.
She spoke as though things were easy for me, dismissing me as if I didn’t know what it meant to ache, to crave something just out of my reach. Didn’t she get that what I wanted—needed—most sat across from me, slipping through my fingers with each minute that passed? She clutched my heart in her fist, and yet she acted like she was the only one taking a risk.
I closed my eyes, exhaustion filling me. “This was a mistake. You’re right; we don’t want the same things. I can’t keep doing this. Maybe it’s unfair for me to ask for more; maybe I never should have tried to push you into something you weren’t ready for.” I couldn’t help feeling like I’d just overplayed my hand.
I knew it seemed crazy to fall in love this quickly, but I had. And I didn’t want to lie about it, or pretend that the love I felt for her wasn’t real. I couldn’t.
“I love you. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you from the beginning, and I . . .” I struggled for the words, but I had no clue what I even wanted to say. She’d taken everything I had—my heart, my pride—and I had nothing left to give. I couldn’t sit here, begging her to love me, and I couldn’t stand looking at her, being around her, with this pain in my chest.
I rose from the chair. “I’m going to get out of here.” My voice sounded hollow, each word an effort to push out. “I’ll see you around.”
She lurched up in her chair. “Will—”
I shook her off. I needed to get away, needed space.
I rarely lost my temper, rarely got emotional. And here I was with a gaping, bleeding hole I couldn’t fill. Maybe she was right; maybe I was just the spoiled rich boy for whom life came easily. Honestly, right now I didn’t even give a shit. I just needed to breathe.
I didn’t bother letting her respond, didn’t look at her. I simply headed for the door, abandoning her and my heart in the office behind me.
Jackie
I sank back down in the chair, my legs shaky, my gaze on the box he’d left on the desk, its presence taunting me.
What the fuck just happened?
A tear slid down my cheek, and then another one. My shoulders shook as the sobs poured out, my gaze blurry as I stared at the box that could have held my future.
Did I love him? Yeah. But so what? What did that mean in the face of everything surrounding us? I’d stopped believing in fairy tales a long time ago. Love plus orgasms did not equal happily ever after. Not with the obstacles we faced.
I didn’t see how he could love me, how he could choose me. He could have had anyone. I could understand sex, could understand him wanting me. I wasn’t stupid; we were amazing in bed. But beyond that?
Besides, I’d never envisioned myself getting married. I wasn’t that girl. I didn’t dream about big white dresses or wedding cakes. I didn’t even think I wanted to have kids.
With one little box he’d painted a picture of a life I’d never considered, and then with the closing of the door, he’d yanked that picture away. Part of me wanted it back, and part of me didn’t know what I wanted anymore.
That was the dangerous thing about Will. He took what I’d originally thought would just be a one-night stand, and leveraged it to forever. I was still somewhere back at the Hay-Adams, wondering what the hell had happened. And I worried that if I didn’t catch up soon, I would lose him for good—
If I hadn’t already.
; Chapter Twenty-four
Get your computers ready for our juiciest scandal yet. Certainly our hottest . . .
—Capital Confessions blog
Will
We spent over a week tiptoeing around each other. I stayed out of the office as much as possible, going out on impromptu campaign events, avoiding Jackie like she had the bubonic plague. It was supposed to be easier that way, but somehow it was anything but.
I missed her. Missed talking with her, laughing with her, missed waking up beside her. By the following Thursday, I was ready to crack.
It had been a little over a month since that night at the Hay-Adams, and she’d completely changed my life.
Mitch walked into my office. “Got a minute?”
“Yeah. What’s up?”
He sat down in one of the empty chairs in front of my desk. “We need to talk.”
“Okay.”
“You look like shit.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You look like shit. Are you sleeping at all?”
Not really. “Some.”
“You guys broke up?”
I stared at him, shaking my head in annoyance. “Are we really going to have this conversation? Do you really want to talk about our fucking feelings?”
“I can’t think of anything I’m less interested in talking about. But when your feelings are screwing up my campaign, then you bet your ass we’re going to talk about them.”
I arched an eyebrow at him. “Your campaign?”
He snorted. “Please. I’m the one busting my ass for this campaign while you’re worried about getting laid.”
My eyes narrowed. “Has anyone ever fired you for being insubordinate?”
Mitch laughed. “Yeah, Jackie’s father, and in case you haven’t noticed, he’s a real asshole.”
“I’ve noticed,” I muttered.
“She wants to quit.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Jackie wants me to tell Price we don’t need her anymore. She wants off the campaign.”
“Since when?” I knew how much the internship meant to her, how important her career was. What would happen at Price if she left my campaign? And what would happen to us? Was that it?
“She told me today, but I’m guessing your little fight last week spurred it on.”
I winced. “You heard that?”
“The whole fucking office heard it. Luckily, no one could make out what the two of you were saying.”
“Can this get any worse?”
“Yes,” Mitch answered bluntly. “You both need to lock this shit down before everyone figures out the two of you were having sex with each other. . . if they haven’t already.”
“I don’t know what to say to her,” I muttered.
“I don’t really care what you say, but whatever it is, I don’t want her to quit. Not this close to the election. We need her—she’s become my go-to person. And she shouldn’t throw away her future. Talk to her.”
“She doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“Then apologize.” Mitch stood up, disgust dripping from his voice. “You need to contain this before you both end up on the front page of Capital Confessions. We’re close to the election, and you’re neck and neck in this race. A scandal right now would be the death of you.”
I nodded like I cared, like the biggest thing to come out of this conversation wasn’t my fear that Jackie quitting the campaign meant I wouldn’t see her again. I didn’t want to let the people around me down, didn’t want to disappoint Mitch and all of my campaign contributors, didn’t want to screw over my staff.
But right now, my biggest concern had nothing to do with the campaign, and everything to do with the girl who had stolen my heart.
Jackie
I couldn’t take it anymore. It was awkward as hell having to see Will every day, having to pretend his presence didn’t affect me. I was beginning to worry that someone would figure it out, that the tension between us would give it all away.
It was time to move on. I knew Mitch was pissed, but hopefully he could sell my departure in a way that wouldn’t totally ruin my chances at Price.
I probably should have cared more than I did.
I’d spent the last week fielding media calls and dealing with the reaction to Will’s lunch with Blair. Nobody had expected how big it would become, least of all, Will. It likely had less to do with his notoriety and more to do with Blair’s, but still. The press salivated over the pictures, and each day a new story, more ridiculous than the last, emerged. At this point I was surprised they hadn’t suggested Blair was pregnant with Will’s love child, and that was the reason her engagement with Thom ended.
Each day the media circus highlighted all of the reasons why being with Will was a bad idea, and every day I was around him, I fell more in love with him. Quitting became less of an option and more of a necessity.
I gathered my stuff, staring at the clock on the wall. It was five o’clock, way earlier than I normally left work, but screw it. It was my last day; if there were ever a time to duck out early, it was today. I hadn’t wanted to do the big good-bye thing with the staff, hadn’t wanted to draw attention to the fact that I was leaving. Mitch could tell everyone I got called back to Price later. He said he’d sorted things out with James Morgan, so hopefully I hadn’t thrown away my career along with everything else.
I hesitated in the entryway of my cubicle. It felt weird leaving without saying good-bye to Will, but I didn’t know what to say. We hadn’t spoken to each other all week, and the idea of going back to his office after our fight was about as appealing as a trip to the gynecologist. Besides, Mitch had to have told him today was my last day. If he’d wanted to say good-bye, he’d had his shot. And it wasn’t like I was moving far away; I’d still be in D.C.
Screw it.
I grabbed my stuff, heading toward the elevator, trying to tell myself I wasn’t running away.
I hit the elevator button, my heart pounding as I waited for the doors to open.
I’d never been here before, never had my heart broken. I didn’t know how I was supposed to act or what I was supposed to do. I worked all the freaking time, so it wasn’t even like I had girlfriends I could talk to. I was totally out of my element. Part of me wanted to go out to a bar and get drunk, and pick up some random guy whose body would make me forget Will’s. And even as the thought entered my mind, I knew it would be a while before I could imagine touching anyone else, kissing anyone else.
It had been a week and a half since we’d last had sex, and the absence of it had left me edgy and miserable. I was a hot mess.
The doors slid open, the elevator empty. I walked in, turning back and taking one last look at the office, my heart stuck in my throat. I moved forward, punching the button for the ground floor, and when I looked up, I saw Will stalking toward the elevator, anger etched across his handsome face.
My gaze ran over him like he was a tall glass of water and I hadn’t a drop to drink. He was dressed in one of my favorite suits—navy, and impeccably tailored—white dress shirt, silver tie. His eyes were hooded, his mouth—the lips I loved and missed—a harsh line. His face was covered in sexy stubble; it looked like he hadn’t shaved in days. I ached to kiss him, to stroke his cheek, ached to touch him. I curled my hands into fists at my side, desperately wishing I were strong enough to break the contact between us, too weak to do anything but devour him with my eyes. He kept walking toward me, practically taking out Wanda who worked in the mail room as he closed the distance between us.
The mature thing would have been to step out of the elevator and say good-bye like a grown-up. I stabbed the button to close the doors. He moved forward, disbelief in his gaze as the doors began sliding shut. I didn’t know what to say, or what to do, so I literally did the only thing that came to mind—I gave a little, “I’m sorry” shrug, all the while relief coursing through my body.
We stared at each other, watching as the doors closed. And then, just
as I tasted freedom, a tanned hand, long tapered fingers that had teased orgasm after orgasm out of me, slid into the tiny gap between the two elevator doors. The doors opened, and suddenly Will was in the elevator with me, punching buttons until the doors closed, trapping us together.
Chapter Twenty-five
We have exclusive video of a certain young candidate for state senate in a very compromising position . . .
—Capital Confessions blog
Will
I couldn’t speak. The ridiculousness of all of it, that she’d run from me like I was someone to avoid, considering I’d been inside her, destroyed whatever calm Mitch had attempted to instill with his little chat.
Fuck calm. Fuck her.
I hit the emergency stop button, bringing the elevator to a halt. Jackie’s eyes widened, moving back into the corner opposite me, as if putting distance between us was enough.
“What are you doing?”
“Were you seriously going to leave without saying good-bye?”
She looked down at the floor. “I didn’t know what to say.”
“How about good-bye? How about something to explain why you’re doing this? Why I had to hear about you quitting from my campaign manager, rather than the one person who should have talked to me about it?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Jesus, Jackie. It’s not enough that you’re sorry. You’re treating me like we’re fucking strangers, like I’m as important to you as the girl who works in the mailroom.”
“Her name’s Wanda,” she snapped.
My eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to piss me off?”
“Oh, get over yourself.” She moved toward me, blue eyes flashing. “You haven’t talked to me. You don’t even look at me. You look through me like I don’t exist. You don’t think I know what you’ve been doing, that you’re avoiding me? Punishing me because you didn’t get exactly what you wanted?”
“That’s not fair.”
“You want to talk about fair?” Her voice rose. “You ask for way too much—that’s what’s not fair. You push, and you push, and then when things don’t work out the way you planned, you freeze me out. And now you have the audacity to come in here, and what, give me a hard time for not coming and saying good-bye? Fuck you.”
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