by Chelle Bliss
My phone dings with a text, and my mom smiles. “I think Jude’s missing you. Give him a call.”
“He can wait.”
“I owe Ben a call back, actually.” She turns toward the house. “Want some tea?”
“I’d love some.” I take out my phone and see that she was right—Jude was the one texting me. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
I touch my phone screen to dial Jude, who answers right away.
“Hey, babe, how are you?”
“I’m good.”
“Hang on a sec.” His voice becomes muffled as he covers the phone and talks to someone else. “Okay, I’m here.”
“Tyson?” I ask.
“Yeah. He took almost an entire day off. I’m not sure he’ll ever recover.”
I laugh at the image of uptight Tyson trying to relax.
“How’s campaign life?” I ask.
“Nothing new. I got an unexpected visit from your father, though.”
“My father?”
“Yeah. I take it you didn’t know he was coming either?”
“No. I haven’t talked to him in a while. And I would’ve let you know if I knew he was coming. He just showed up?”
“Yeah.”
“What did he want?”
There’s a pause. “Oh, I’m sure you can imagine, given what’s going on.”
“I can imagine a lot of things he might say. What did he want, Jude?”
Another few moments of silence pass. “I don’t think we should talk about it now.”
“Why not?”
“I just…I need you to tell me you and I are good. That you’re still all in.”
“Still all in?” I sit down on a large, flat rock, smoothing my windblown hair away from my face. “Why are you being so cryptic? Tell me what’s going on.”
He sighs into the phone. “Babe, I can’t. We hired a new security team, and the tech guy told me I need to assume none of my communication is secure.”
“You mean…someone could be listening?”
“Yeah. Same with our texts. Some conversations are going to have to be in person.”
I consider, then say, “Okay. But why are you asking me if things with us are good? I’m just here with—”
“Don’t say it. I don’t want photographers finding you.”
I’m quiet for a few long moments, not sure what it’s safe and not safe to say. I’ve been deliberately avoiding the news, but what am I missing?
Oh God. Are there new accusations against Jude? Is that why he’s asking me if we’re good? The thought makes my stomach roll nervously.
Until I know, I have to assume things are the same. “Of course we’re good. I love you.”
“I love you too. And I miss you. I’m thinking of you guys, babe. Both of you.”
“I know. Thank you.”
“Any idea when you’ll know?”
“Should be in a couple days.”
“Okay.” His voice sounds weary. “I’m sorry, babe, but I have to go. Tyson’s about to have a coronary. We’re on our way to a meeting.”
“I understand.”
“I’ll call you tonight, when I’m all done.”
“Okay. Bye, babe.”
“Bye. Love you.”
I walk alone on the beach for a few minutes, giving my mom time to talk to Ben and also thinking about what my father could have possibly said to Jude.
He’s got no business coming near either one of us. I tolerate him, but that’s about it.
Some hurt just runs too deep.
20
Jude
By the time Dominic Marino bothers to call me back—two days after I left him a message—I’m out of patience.
“What can I do for you, Senator Titan?” he asks when I pick up the call.
“I think a better question is, what have you already tried to do for me without my permission?”
There are a couple seconds of silence on the other end of the line.
“I’m sure I misheard you,” Dominic finally says. “Because if I were doing your dirty work—not that I’m saying I am—you’d be thanking me for it.”
I look up at the ceiling and then step off the campaign bus. I don’t want anyone—even my trusted staffers—hearing this conversation.
When I’m a safe distance away, alone in the middle of a parking lot, I respond. “I took one meeting with you. And in that meeting, I asked you for nothing.”
“But I offered my support,” Dominic says in a cool tone. “Which you said you’d be grateful for.”
“Support means voting for me. Telling others about my platform. Maybe contributing. It doesn’t make you a spokesman for me. What have you done?”
“You have a problem. I’m making it go away. The less you know about it, the better.”
Dammit. Reagan was right about Dominic Marino. I should have known. Guys like him try to buy politicians’ allegiance in crooked ways like this. It’s everything I refuse to be a part of in politics.
“Listen to me, Marino.” My voice is smooth and sure. “Any offer you’ve made to anyone needs to be taken off the table. Not only will I never be your pawn, I’m about to put your name at the top of my shit list.”
“Are you threatening me, Senator?” He sounds amused.
“Not at all. What I’m saying is that if you want a friend in the governor’s mansion, you’re talking to the wrong candidate. I don’t want anything to do with you.”
“I see. Not even if Miss Culbertson is eager to accept…a gift from me in exchange for a full retraction?”
“No. Keep your money. I’m not interested in having anything to do with you.”
I end the call and shove my phone into my pocket, putting my hands on my head. The race between my opponent and me is tight, because she’s pouring millions of her own money into her campaign. I’ve had to ramp up time spent campaigning, and there’s no time left for working out or even a quick morning run.
I’m going to have to build that time back in. With Reagan gone, I have to find another way to relieve stress.
My favorite way to release tension is a couple hours of sweaty sex with her. But until she gets back from Florida, I have to rely on my hand, which isn’t even a close second to my wife’s body.
Her mouth. Her toned legs. Her breathy voice. God, I miss her. I want to talk to her about this shit with Marino, but I can’t because of the secure phone line issue.
There’s no one else in the world I can just let my guard completely down with. And I know her, she wouldn’t say I told you so. She’d tell me Marino’s a dick and everything was going to be okay.
It will be okay. I believe that. But the road’s getting rocky, and I don’t want to cross the finish line without my wife by my side. Win or lose, I need her with me.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I take it out. It’s a calendar reminder that I have a meeting with my new communications strategist in five minutes.
Fuck. I don’t get why my strategy can’t be “Tell the truth and work your hardest.” Politics can get convoluted. But the RNC is completely behind me, and I appreciate the resources they’ve sent.
This woman, Vanessa Grayson, is supposed to be the best. She’s run focus groups, spent time with my pollsters and Tyson, and even took the interns out for lunch one day. Her research into messaging has been thorough, and I need to listen to what she has to say.
By the time I get back to the bus, there’s no one left on it but Vanessa. Even Rita’s seat at the front of the bus is empty.
“Tyson took everyone to the pub down the street for lunch,” Vanessa says. “He said you can text him if you want him to bring back food for you.”
I slide into the other side of the kitchen booth from her, setting my phone down on the table.
“Okay.” I arch my brows. “You ready to get started?”
“I think I’ll grab a drink first. Do you want anything?”
I shake my head and look down at the stack of papers on the table i
n front of me.
“These demographics are a little surprising,” I say, scanning a chart.
“How so?”
I look over and see that she just took a bottle of water from the refrigerator and she’s closing it.
“I thought I’d poll with more likely votes from college-educated women,” I say.
“Yeah, your opponent is a self-made female millionaire, so she’s got that demographic locked up.”
Vanessa unscrews the cap from her water and takes a sip, then sets the bottle down on the counter. She reaches for the top button of her red blouse and unbuttons it.
“It’s hot in here, don’t you think?” She runs a fingertip down the line between her breasts, now exposed thanks to the button she undid.
Fuck. I don’t need this right now. Alone on my bus with a woman, while false allegations about another woman and me are still swirling? I’m kicking Tyson’s ass for putting me in this position.
“You know, it is hot,” I lie, standing up. “I could really go for a cold beer. I’m gonna run down to that pub and get lunch with the others.”
“What?” Vanessa furrows her brow. “But what about our meeting?”
I hold up the stack of papers she left on the table. “I think I need to go over all this first. Then Tyson and I will sit down with you.”
“I’m going to go over it with you now. Tyson doesn’t need to be here.”
She takes a step closer to me, flicking her long blond hair over her shoulder. I give her a tight smile.
“You know, I’m late calling my wife back. I’m gonna call her on the way to the pub. Can we bring anything back for you?”
“No, I’m fine, but—”
I turn and leave, not letting her finish. I’m not taking any chances. If she tries to get with me and I turn her down, which I would, she could get pissed and say it was me who hit on her.
From Dominic Marino to my own coms strategist, I’m having to keep it from looking like I’m in bed with people I’m not. I don’t have time for this shit. Legitimate campaigning is hard enough.
I make it to the pub in five minutes, and Tyson gives me a confused look as soon as he sees me.
“Outside. Now.” I scowl at him, and he drops a French fry in midair.
“What’s going on?” he asks in a low tone from the alley behind the pub.
“Don’t ever leave me alone with a woman again unless it’s my wife.”
Tyson’s eyes widen. “Oh. You mean…shit.”
“It’s fine this time, I got out of it, but it can’t happen again.”
“No, you’re right. I didn’t even think of that because she’s on our team, but…yeah, you’re right.”
“You need to be like a pimple on my ass until election night,” I say. “We even need to be sharing a hotel room unless I’m with Reagan.”
“Yeah, okay. I’m not spooning you, though.” Tyson laughs weakly.
“No, you’re sure as fuck not. Now let’s get in there, and you can buy me lunch to make it up to me.”
He rolls his eyes. “When are you gonna buy me lunch?”
“Tyson, if we win this, I’ll buy you a steak dinner.”
He muses, then nods. “I like steak.”
“And I like winning. So let’s figure out how to make us both happy.”
“Guess I need to sit in on the coms strategy meeting, huh?”
“Yeah. And every other meeting with her.”
He nods. “It’s kinda bullshit that hot chicks are only into you when you’re married, and I’m single.”
“You want her, go after her,” I tell him.
Tyson flushes a dark crimson. “I couldn’t…I mean…”
“Let’s go eat, man.” I clap him on the back. “You don’t have time for dating anyway.”
“True,” he grumbles. “I’d be happy with a shower right now.”
“As long as you don’t leave me alone with you know who to take one.”
“You mean…Voldemort?” He snorts at his attempt at a joke.
I remember the offended look on Vanessa’s face as I left the bus and decide that’s not a bad name for her at all. The stakes have gotten so high that most anyone could become the villain.
21
Reagan
I’m walking into my mom’s kitchen to pour another cup of coffee when I see the tears streaming down her face.
I stop breathing as I look at her. I can practically hear Jude speaking to me, his voice deep and even.
Be strong, Reagan. Be strong. Come what may, she needs you to be the strong one.
“What is it?” I ask her.
“I just got off the phone. My results came in, and…I’m okay.” She chokes out a sob. “It’s benign.”
I let out the breath I feel like I’ve been holding for nearly two weeks now, breaking into tears at the same time. She stands up, and we wrap our arms around each other.
The relief flows through my entire body. It’s physical, emotional—spiritual.
After a minute, my mom pulls away to grab a couple tissues. She passes me one, and I mop the tears from my cheeks.
“I need to call your sister,” she says, her shoulders dropping with relief. “And Ben.”
“Did you tell him?”
She shakes her head. “No, but I’m going to tell him everything now.”
“Do I get to meet him? I’d love to meet him while I’m here.”
She considers. “We could do that. I figured you’d want to get right back on the campaign trail.”
“I want to stay a little while longer. I’m really enjoying this time with you. And now we have something to celebrate.”
She takes a deep breath and blows it out. “Yes, we do. Oh, I’m so relieved, Reagan.”
She squeezes my hand, then picks up her phone and walks out onto her deck. I head to the guest room I’m staying in and grab my own phone, typing out a text to Jude.
Me: We got good news. All clear.
He responds right away.
Jude: Babe, that’s great. You must be relieved.
Me: I can’t even put into words how relieved I am.
Jude: Missing you bad. Can’t wait to have you back with me.
Me: About that…
Jude: Yeah?
Me: I want to stay and spend some more time with my mom. It’s been a long time since I’ve had time alone with her.
Jude: Sure, I understand.
Me: So just coded texts and phone calls for a little longer. ☹
Jude: You’re worth the wait. Sorry, I’ve gtg. In an editorial board meeting.
Me: Knock ’em dead, Titan. I love you.
Jude: Love you too.
I put my phone down and relax into an armchair. This whole thing with my mom has really put things into perspective for me. For too long, I’ve been focused on poll numbers, campaign contributions, and political platforms. Jude and I both have.
We remind ourselves that we’re lucky to be here—in positions that allow us to truly change people’s lives. But it’s a grind, and what we don’t acknowledge often enough is the cost to our personal lives.
I need to clear my mind. I take a long, hot shower and pull my wet hair into a bun. The beach life is nice and low maintenance. No blow-dryers needed here.
Then I tell my mom I’m taking her out for lunch and some shopping today. We hit a local seafood place, and then she shows me all her favorite little boutique stores.
I buy way more than I should since I do have to fly back home eventually, but today I’ve decided to be impractical. I’m not going to hurry, stress, or worry. When we stop for ice cream at the end of our day, I only think about what sounds good, not why I shouldn’t be eating any of it.
“How are Kennedy and Chris doing?” my mom asks as we sit on a bench at the beach eating our ice cream.
I swipe a melting stream of chocolate ice cream from my rocky road cone. “I haven’t talked to Chris in a while. Kennedy’s really good. She and Nix took a month off to go on a big divin
g trip near the Philippines.”
“Wow. Diving?”
I nod. My mom accepted Chris and Kennedy, my father’s children from his longtime affair, without question. She knows none of what happened is their fault. Kennedy still struggles with the truth of it all. She didn’t know my father had another family either.
“Finding out about my brother and another sister was the only good that came out of all that,” I say, half to myself.
“I don’t know about that.”
I turn to face my mom. “What do you mean?”
“I’m happier now than I was then.”
“You always seemed happy to me growing up.”
“I wasn’t unhappy. I had my kids, and I felt like I was doing something noble by being the wife of a senator. Supporting the greater good or something.”
“You couldn’t have known what was going on, Mom.”
She looks out at a boat passing by. “I don’t mean all of that. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and in retrospect, even if your father had been who I thought he was, it wouldn’t have been worth it.”
“How so?”
She starts to speak but hesitates, then shakes her head. “I don’t think we should go there. You’re in the thick of Jude’s campaign for governor. You don’t need to hear my thoughts on this right now.”
I arch my brows with curiosity. “I want to hear your thoughts on it, though.”
She sighs softly. “It wasn’t worth it. Sometimes I ask myself if all the time your father and I were apart was part of the reason he strayed.”
“Mom.” I shake my head. “You can’t think that way. He was wrong. So wrong. There’s no excuse for it.”
“I know.” She nods in agreement. “I really do. But what I’m saying is…our relationship was never…magic, you know? It was always about how far he could go in office and what things looked like to the outside world. We lived for appearances. If I could do it over again, I’d do it so differently.”
“How so?”
“I’d marry a man for whom a life with me and our children was enough.” She sits back against the bench. “A man who didn’t want to be powerful or influential. Who wanted to coach little league and go to ballet recitals.”