Domestic Affairs

by Bridget Siegel

Annoyingly, her leg flinched at his touch.

  “Sorry.” He looked up at her eyes.

  “No, it’s okay. It was nothing.” She hoped he would believe her lie. The lie she had been trying to get herself to believe for weeks.

  “It’s not. I’m sorry.” He looked down with a disappointed shame and said in a breath, “I forget myself around you.”

  It may not have been the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her, but in that moment, coming from Taylor, it was everything she had always wanted to hear someone say. She tried to reply but couldn’t find the words. Her stomach did belly flops any time he was close, but that’s how it was supposed to be. She was the kid with the crush. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything. He went on with a sense of contemplation.

  “That . . . losing myself around people . . . that doesn’t happen to me.” He looked at her like he was trying to find an answer. She was desperate to be able to give him one but couldn’t find breath, much less words. She tried to remember the logistics of breathing. In and out, she instructed herself. But in between the “in” and “out” she was overwhelmed with excitement and nervousness.

  “I mean, it’s no secret that Aubrey and I . . .” He lowered his voice to a near whisper. “We haven’t been in love for a long time, but it hasn’t been something I’ve even thought of. The path we’ve been on together has taken the place of a relationship.” He seemed to be working his thoughts through out loud more than telling her about his feelings. “The truth is, we were on a demolition path before the governor’s race. We had even separated for a few months.”

  “Really?” Olivia didn’t mean to say it so loudly, but she was caught so off guard. First of all, why was he talking to her about love at all? It was as if the whole time she had been wondering if his accidental stumble into her room had significance, he was already assuming something more. And this idea of Aubrey’s relationship to him being strained . . . No secret? There was never even a hint of discord in the press or even in the campaign rumor mill about their marriage. And what did he mean by saying “it” hasn’t been something he’s thought of? What hasn’t? What’s “it”?

  “Yeah. And we didn’t get back together for the race. It wasn’t a political decision. I think it reminded us of how we fell in love with each other originally. We had a shared ambition to take on life. When the race came up, we fell back into the comfort of having a goal we could get to together. We were great together at the job at hand.”

  “You are great together,” Olivia said, correcting him.

  “Yes. Yes, I know. And we got back the teamwork aspect. But the relationship, the love, didn’t really come with it. I mean, the woman is perpetually disappointed in me.” He thought for a minute and added, “Well, in everyone.”

  Olivia shifted, trying not to seem as uncomfortable as she was. This was out of her league on so many levels. She didn’t even know what kind of ear she was supposed to be lending here. A friend, a coworker, a kid with a crush? Not that it mattered. She wouldn’t know what advice to give on any of it. He continued, apparently not really looking for advice anyway.

  “In fact, I sometimes wonder if the love was ever there. One time, at the start of the campaign, when we were getting back together, Barry, my trainer, who sometimes doubles as my life guru, asked what it was like when it was just the two of us alone at night. I said it was good now that we weren’t arguing. We have the campaign to talk about at night now, I said. And it’s true. We do. But if we didn’t have that . . .” He was suddenly pensive and almost said the rest to himself. “If we didn’t have the politics, I don’t think we would have anything.”

  “Does it maybe just seem like that because the campaign is all-encompassing? I mean, I’m sure there’s something. Do you remember the things you fell in love with at first?”

  This conversation couldn’t be happening. For all the times she had thought about Governor Taylor’s loving her, she had never considered actually hearing that he wasn’t in love with his wife. Did that mean he did love her? Shit. Her fantasized thoughts of his loving her were smacked with a dose of reality. If he did have feelings for her, the ones she had for him, the ones she secretly hoped he had for her, what would actually happen? She hadn’t actually thought through her fantasy. You’re not supposed to think through the consequences of a fantasy! That’s why it’s a fantasy! Her thoughts swirled. What does that mean for Aubrey? They looked so happy today. The way she looked at him. Could I have gotten him so wrong? Does Jacob know?

  “I do, but I can’t remember any of the reasons being her as a person. God, that sounds awful aloud. It was all about who we were together.”

  “Maybe that’s enough. I mean, spark is overrated. Maybe the road to a common goal is a stronger force, stronger thread.” Olivia felt she had to turn this around. He had to be in love with Aubrey. That was the way things were supposed to be. The alternative left too much open. Too much to think about. Too much to handle. She felt a bead of sweat on the back of her neck. His legs, weren’t moving, but they seemed to have inched closer to her.

  “You believe that?”

  “I don’t know. Well, I guess, yeah, if I think logically about it. I think so.”

  “There’s a ‘but’ there.”

  She smiled a busted smile and let her head drop. “I’m a bad one to ask.”

  “Why?”

  “I am a child of the Disney princesses, you know? I’m a romantic, but that’s stupid. That doesn’t last. You know, there’s a reason the phrase is ‘hopeless romantic.’” She crossed her legs away from him, wishing she didn’t blurt out emotional things about herself like that around him. Wishing she could feel less attraction.

  “Ahhh.” He grinned, interested. “Is that why you’re not married?”

  “It probably is. I’m still looking for my Prince Charming. But Prince Charmings are about as realistic as glass slippers. You know what would happen if I really had a pair of glass slippers? When I stood on them, they’d shatter, and I’d cut my feet.”

  He smiled. “Then why are you still looking for the prince?”

  “Good question!” she said. “I think my heart and my head don’t often see eye to eye. My dad used to always say, ‘The heart knows reason that the mind knows nothing of.’”

  He grabbed her leg and shook his head with a muttered laugh. “That is exactly what my aunt Lil used to say to me. Where did you come from? God. If this was another lifetime, not even the physics of it would stop me from finding you glass slippers that wouldn’t shatter . . .”

  His words trailed off at the end, almost as if he didn’t mean to say it. But Olivia heard every word. Her heart rose into her throat. The intimacy was palpable and felt, to Olivia, like a tiny current of electricity running through her veins. She shook her arm in an attempt to stop it from tingling. She looked around, realizing for the first time in what seemed like hours that there were other people at the bar, other people in the world.

  He followed her gaze. “Okay. It’s about time I get to sleep. Jacob gets mad if I’m tired in the mornings.”

  Jacob. Shit. He would kill me for this conversation. He would kill the governor. Jacob. She felt a rush of guilt. Does he know this side of the governor? He would have told me if he did. How am I going to keep this from him? Lock it up, Olivia. “Yes, yes, definitely.”

  They got up awkwardly. “I’m going to just check my messages.” He didn’t move away from the table.

  “Okay, right, yeah.” Olivia felt like she was on a balance beam. Right, duh. We can’t walk to the elevator bank together! He doesn’t love his wife. He wants to find me glass slippers. Walk away. She begged her subconscious to gain control. “Okay. Good night, Governor.”

  “Night, babe.” He grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “You did a great job today. Really. Just great.”

  “Thank you. Good night.” Said that already. Okay, bye. She walked away unsteadily. The conversation swirled through her head. Nothing about it made sense. She didn’t want it to. F
or the first time in her life she didn’t want to have the answer.

  Upstairs, the alarm clock lit up her room with its red 1:21. Four hours at the most, she thought. It had been days since she got the coveted five hours of sleep. As she washed her face, she heard a knock. She grabbed a towel, wiping the suds from her eyes with a weird feeling that her conversation with the governor wasn’t complete.

  As strangely expected, Taylor stood in the doorway. Holding his jacket in his hand, his tie now open and hanging down on either side of his shirt, he smiled and his eyes locked into hers for what seemed like the millionth time of the day.

  “Wrong room again?” She laughed. “You really are losing your mind!”

  “Not the wrong room.” He slid past her with a smoothness contradictory to the situation. “I just forgot to ask you something.”

  “What’s that?” Olivia closed the door and followed him in.

  The governor stood in front of her, closer than they had been even that night in the Hamptons. “Your shoe size.” He didn’t drop his gaze.

  “My shoe size?”

  “You know . . . in case I find those glass slippers.”

  Olivia struggled to find a response before the governor leaned down to kiss her. As his lips touched against hers, his arms wrapped around to her back. Without her heels, she was a good nine or ten inches shorter than him. And his grip around her sides was strong and steady. Wait.

  “Wait!” She pushed him back.

  He kept his arms around her waist.

  “Wait. What are we doing? We can’t . . .”

  “Are you saying you don’t want to kiss me?”

  “I mean, no. Well, no, it’s not that I don’t want to kiss you.” The words rumbled around in her head. What was she saying? Of course she wanted to kiss him. This was Landon Taylor. This was the fantasy.

  “So kiss me.” He drew her back in. “I’ve been wanting to since the day I met you.”

  Olivia’s heart was pounding as the blood rushed throughout her body.

  “Literally. Since that day at the Brinmore. I’ve been in a good mood since you came aboard. You can even ask Jacob.”

  “I think I’ll probably leave Jacob out of this one.” She laughed nervously, but it wasn’t funny. She had just kissed the governor. She had crossed a line. A line she couldn’t go back over. She would have to lie to Jacob. She looked down.

  “Right. Yeah. Right. Okay.” He reached for her chin and lifted it up until her eyes met his. “But, Olivia, I don’t remember the last time I felt like this. It’s not something you let go of.”

  “It is. It is something you definitely let go of.” I have to let go. But it’s Landon. Landon Taylor. And those eyes. Do I have to?

  He looked at her without missing a beat. “Not possible. You know it as well as I do.”

  Olivia breathed. She couldn’t even process the thoughts in her head. She wished she weren’t so tired. There’s something sane to say here. I know it’s there. She scanned her list of Campaign Lessons in her head but couldn’t think of anything other than flats and heels and servers. And his blue eyes. There’s definitely a lesson in them. The governor stopped the rattling of her thoughts.

  “Tell me something—if I weren’t married, what would you be doing right now?”

  “I think there’s a chance I’d be kissing you back.” The minute the words came out of her mouth she wanted to reach into the air and grab them back. He’s married. I just kissed a married man.

  “You already kissed me. And my situation—it’s complicated but it’s not a problem.”

  “Not a problem”? “Situation”? What is his situation? God, his hair looks even softer this close. “For who?”

  “For us.”

  Oh my God. There’s an “us.” Stop it. I mean there couldn’t be a way kissing him could be okay. Could there?

  “How do you figure?”

  “It is what it is.”

  “I ca—” Olivia turned away from him in an effort to break his searing stare. It almost seemed like that black and yellow swirl that cartoon characters see when they’re under an evil spell. That’s what this must be—a spell. I’m not this girl. I’m not. I don’t kiss married men. Hell, I barely kiss any men.

  He kissed her again, and she let him. It had been a while since she had been really kissed. His lips were as soft as she’d imagined they would be. But not too soft. Strong and powerful at the same time. She pulled away and again tried to escape his eyes. My job. The job. He’s my boss. “I work for you.”

  His hand gently gripped her wrist, turning her back to him. “I know. And I need you. Not just for fundraising. I need you.” Olivia felt the gulp. Why was this totally nonsensical conversation making perfect sense?

  He is a good kisser.

  As if he had heard her inner monologue, the governor moved in and kissed her again. Suddenly nothing mattered. Her insides went to mush, like a teddy bear whose only job was to be held.

  “Liv,” he said, as if they had known each other for years, “stop thinking on this one. Just for a minute.” She wondered if he didn’t know she had already just decided that thoughts were unnecessary.

  The next thing she knew, the buzzing of her BlackBerry on the night table woke Olivia. Her eyes opened, seemingly one at a time.

  Dreaming. Still dreaming? The back of his head lay in front of her, still as could be. She closed and reopened her eyes, making sure it wasn’t an illusion. She flashed back to his kiss. And to falling onto the bed, locked in his embrace. She remembered his arms wrapped around her, his breath on her neck. Hours ago. Maybe minutes ago. She couldn’t be sure. She checked her shirt and confirmed the memory that all her clothes had been left on. She breathed a sigh of relief. His shirt was crumpled up, so that a bit of his back could be seen.

  God, the skin on his back looks soft. She couldn’t actually remember touching it. I wonder if he has some Brooks Brothers wrinkle-free shirts. I wonder if they’d withstand this type of thing. Shit. Omigod, Olivia. She gave herself an inner-monologue bitch slap. This man. Can’t be here. He’s married. He’s my boss. This cannot have happened. Campaign Lesson #1. This is Campaign Lesson #1.

  Her bitch slap must have reverberated, because he flinched and turned to her. His eyes seemed even bluer than before. Do not look.

  “You have to leave.” She whispered fiercely, still unaware of even what time it was.

  “What?” He showed her the naïve smile of someone not awake enough to recognize the situation for what it was.

  “You. Me. You have to—Someone will—” She couldn’t get the words to form a sentence. Why does he have to be so good looking? He has to go.

  “And the translation of that is, beautiful?” He kept his incongruously calm smile and brushed back her hair.

  He called me beautiful. He thinks I’m beautiful. She began to tilt her head toward her shoulder and then quickly picked it back up. He can’t call me beautiful. “Ohmygod, crazy man. This is insane, and you can’t be here!” She pushed him nearly off the bed.

  “Do you always look this pretty when you wake up?”

  “Leave. Leave. Leave. Go to your room or your house. Are you even staying here? Ohmygod.”

  He smiled. “Okay, okay, I’m going. I’m staying a few doors down. Knew it would be a late night.” He went to kiss her, but she swiftly interrupted his move with a shove. He stumbled off the bed, pulling his shirt down, with a smug grin that seemed a response to her assertiveness.

  As he left the room, he turned and looked back at her.

  “You’re amazing, Olivia. Amazing.”

  As the door shut, she fell backward onto the bed, turned her head into the pillow, and silently screamed.

  She flipped back over, smiling. She held on to a pillow, unsure of what to do with herself. She rested her hand on her neck, remembering how he had held it so tenderly while they kissed. Amazing. He thinks I am amazing.

  “We kissed. Oh my God, we kissed. Landon Taylor. I kissed Landon Taylor,” she w
hispered to the ceiling. She had to say it out loud, as if to confirm that it had actually happened. It took a good seven or eight repetitions of that phrase before the excitement turned back to fear and guilt.

  “Ohmigod, I kissed Landon Taylor. He’s married. He has kids. He’s my new boss. He’s Landon Taylor.” The trauma began to hit her like a brick wall. Jacob is going to kill me. What had she just done? What had he just done? Her breathing got tighter. She could feel every exhale press against her chest. She sat up on the corner of the bed and put her head on her knees. Her thoughts spun like one of those paint-splatter machines that people used to use to make sweatshirts in SoHo. The spinning core spattered totally incongruous and inappropriate thoughts. She flopped back down and tumultuously twisted and turned, trying to escape the shame. The worst part of it all was, despite the guilt, which she knew she should—and did—feel, more overwhelming was a feeling of happiness. She lay in bed, drowning in complete, reprehensible bliss.

  Olivia hated early flights but relished the chance to leave for the airport at six a.m. and avoid seeing anyone, especially the governor, in the hotel. She spent every second of the cab ride, the waiting at the gate, and the entire flight going over in detail what had happened, in an effort to make some sense of it. For the last two weeks she had been envisioning that kiss. And it was even better than her fantasized version. It was real. Every time she thought of that kiss, those arms around her waist, she had to close her eyes and remind herself to breathe. But more alarmingly, the black and white picture of a perfect candidate had turned gray. She was disappointed, which was less comprehensible than anything. This was her dream. She should have been thrilled, but the truth was a part of her wanted him to be better than the man who kisses someone who is not his wife.

  Back in her office she tried to distract herself with work. When, at eight the next morning, her phone finally rang with a private number, Olivia lost her breath a bit. She had had twenty-four hours to figure out what to say and she had not even settled on a greeting.

  “Hello?”