The Thousand Pound Christmas
Page 21
“So, you know that campaign manager position we talked about?” Mike asks.
“Yeah?”
“I’m guessing I blew it.”
I pause, then give a small nod. “You did. Totally blew it. Crater in the sand. Nothing left.”
“That’s what I thought.”
We stand like that for a few seconds, just looking at each other. It’s only been a couple days since I last saw him, but I missed him. I’m still angry at him, but I missed him. How absurd is that?
Mike gives a solemn nod. “Okay. I guess I can live with that. What about the other position?”
“Which other position?”
“Potential boyfriend.”
I bring up my chin. “I didn’t realize there was an opening for that.”
“Well, the position hasn’t been advertised, but I was hoping—” He breaks off abruptly. “You were amazing today. Everything you said up there.”
“Thanks.”
“And everything I said to you the other night, after I ran into Nelson? Stupid. I can’t even claim political ignorance. I know how the system works. I know sometimes you have to give up one thing to get something else. It’s just, I thought you were different from every other politician. And you are different. I saw that again today. So I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was such a jerk about it.”
I wait a beat, mulling that over. “Not everything you said was wrong.”
He looks a question at me.
“The part about keeping my word was right.”
“No, it wasn’t. Not in this case. Obviously bringing jobs into this town matters more. You were completely right and I was an idiot. That’s your job. And you shouldn’t have had to work so hard to point that out to me.”
“True.”
Mike pauses. “Okay. Well, I guess that’s all I wanted to—”
“I got it anyway,” I say. “Without breaking my word to those kids.”
“Got it?”
I pull the envelope from the inside pocket of my coat. “Beyond Beauty’s leasing the factory space. Patricia Kilburn signed the lease. You’re the first person I’ve told.”
“Congratulations.” He smiles that smile of his, the one that hooked me from the day we met. Then he steps forward, arms open, then abruptly checks himself. “Am I allowed to hug you right now? Or do you still hate me?”
“I think a hug would feel pretty good right about now.”
I’m right, too. It does feel good. We hold each other for a long minute, then break apart with what feels like reluctance on both our parts. We hear a steady beep, beep, beep as Frank Alfonsi, owner of the transfer station, climbs into a truck and begins shoveling up streamers and paper cups. The party’s over.
“So,” I say.
“So,” he says. He digs into his pocket for his car keys. “I guess I should get you home. I heard you say you’ve got dinner plans.”
We start walking. “What about you?” I ask. “You have the X-men tonight?”
“No. We did Christmas last night. They’re with Kami and her family today.”
“Oh? How are you at chopping onions?”
He pauses. “Funny you should ask. I happen to be fantastic at chopping onions.”
“In that case, why don’t you stick around for dinner? I could use a little help.”
“I’d love to.” Mike opens the car door for me. “And Rachel?”
“Yeah?”
“Merry Christmas.”
Fortunately for us, we don’t need mistletoe. We’ve got this kiss thing pretty much nailed down. When we pull apart, he quirks an eyebrow at me.
“Now that this is over, what’s on your agenda for New Year’s?”
I smile. I don’t have an answer quite yet, but I know I’ll think of something. The ideas are already percolating--all the ways I can make life better for the people of this town. If I’m elected, that is. I’ll think about it later. Right now I’ve got a party to set up, presents to open, and a bottle of victory champagne waiting at home.
Doesn’t get much better than that.
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