Bi-Partisan, page 18
Do you want me to let the chief know for you?
Yes please. Thanks.
“Well?” Adrian asks as I set my phone back on the nightstand.
“I don’t need to be in until nine, apparently,” I say as I let myself relax back into the bed.
“So if I were to offer to make breakfast, would you have time for that?” he asks, almost hesitant.
“You don’t have to go into the clinic?”
“No, I have today and tomorrow off.”
“Then I’d love breakfast,” I say, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “After a shower.”
He lifts his head again and gives me a look hinting at suggestive. “Would you like company in that shower?”
“Darlin’,” I say with all seriousness, “unless I am sick or genuinely don’t have time, the answer to that is always going to be yes.”
Despite the heat in his suggestion, we don’t do anything more than make out in the shower. It’s still early, and the water does not do much to wake Adrian up. The intimacy is nice, though. It calms the little voice in the back of my head that worries last night was nothing more than another hookup. Hookups—even ones pretending to date for the media—don’t take gentle showers together at six thirty in the morning.
Then, after getting dressed—me in borrowed clothes—we head to the kitchen.
I watch as he pulls eggs, bacon, and cheese out of the fridge, and a skillet out of the cabinet. “How do you like your eggs?”
“Either scrambled or over-easy,” I say as I lean against the counter opposite the stove. “Can I do anything to help?”
“No, you cooked last night. I’ve got breakfast,” he says, pulling out a bowl from another cabinet.
I laugh and take a few steps until I can wrap my arms around his waist from behind and hook my chin over his shoulder. “I hardly think putting a frozen lasagna my mother made into the oven constitutes cooking.”
“You also dropped everything to come over last night because I had a bad day when we aren’t even—never mind. Just let me cook.” He turns his head to kiss my cheek. “It’s my way of saying thank you.”
My stomach drops, even though he doesn’t technically finish the sentence. I know what he was going to say. God, I feel stupid. That little voice was right, wasn’t it? For some reason, I still need to hear him say it, though.
“Finish what you were going to say.” My voice is clipped as I let go of him and get some distance.
He turns to face me, a pained look on his face. “Jamie…”
“Finish what you were going to say,” I repeat, my tone more biting than I’d like it to be. “When we aren’t even what?”
He sighs and doesn’t even bother looking me in the eye when he speaks. “Fine. I was going to say when we aren’t even really dating.”
Bile rises in my throat, and I know it’s because of the acidic tomatoes and wine I had last night, but the timing definitely sucks. I cross my arms over my chest and stare at the floor. Yup, I’m an idiot. Of course this didn’t mean anything to him.
Then his feet enter my field of view. “But that doesn’t feel completely true anymore,” he says.
My heart clenches.
“I know we agreed that this would be fake—I realize I’m the one that insisted it. And I still don’t really do relationships. I can’t really do them. But somewhere along the way, this stopped feeling entirely fake.”
“About that…” I finally meet his gaze. “Why don’t you do relationships? I didn’t pry at first because I figured it wasn’t any of my business, and not wanting a romantic relationship is totally valid. But I get the sense, especially after last night, that you do actually want it and just aren’t letting yourself. And I guess I just want to know why.”
“I don’t know how,” he says, his voice cracking. “It’s not just romantic relationships. I don’t let anyone in. I don’t make lasting friendships. I never learned how. We never stayed in one place long enough for that, and there are only so many unanswered letters a kid can send before he learns that it’s easier to just say goodbye and move on rather than try to stay in touch then inevitably be forgotten.”
Fuck, if that isn’t one of the most heartbreaking things I’ve ever heard.
“I’m not even going to pretend to understand how you grew up. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to never know when you would be told to move or where that move would be to—how traumatic that might have been for you. And I don’t blame you for not bothering to try to maintain friendships when you moved so often.” I honestly don’t. I can’t say I probably wouldn’t do the same thing if I were in his shoes.
He hesitates for a moment, but then he nods.
“But sweetheart, you aren’t a military kid anymore. No one is forcing you to move again.”
He inhales sharply and hugs his torso protectively.
All I want to do is hug him, but I can’t stop now. I have to at least try to fight for this. “What about Casey? You let him in.”
“Casey is kind of the exception. He wormed his way into my life, and I’m eternally grateful that he did. But honestly, the only reason we’re still friends after splitting up for grad school is because he made sure of it.” He smiles sadly.
“And Sophie?”
“She was just about as persistent as Casey.”
“Well…” I tentatively reach for him, resting my hand on top of his crossed arms. “I don’t know if you’ve figured this out about me yet, but I, too, can be persistent.”
He lets out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, I have.”
“I like you, Adrian. I care about you. Let me try to be in your life.”
He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but then, he unfurls his arms and slides his hand into mine. “Okay.”
“Okay?” I repeat, trying and failing to tamp down my hope. “As in we’re doing this? Us? For real?”
He nods and smiles, although there’s something guarded about it. “I like you too,” he whispers. “I just don’t know how to do this.”
My face breaks into a grin as I pull him in for a kiss. “We’ll figure it out, okay?”
“Yeah,” he says, and I can’t help kissing him again.
“Do you still want breakfast?” he asks tentatively when we pull apart.
“Yes, I do.”
Chapter 20
Jamie
Song: What a Man Gotta Do – Jonas Brothers
I’m just finishing tying my tie when there’s a knock on my door.
“Yes?” I call, and within seconds, Mina’s head pops through the door.
“Do you have a minute?” she asks.
“Yeah, come on—”
She practically barges the rest of the way in, shuts the door, and levels me with a knowing look. “Spill.”
“What?”
She sighs and walks a few feet to drop into an armchair. “Something clearly happened with Adrian, so—” she gestures at me. “Spill.”
My mouth falls open a little. “How—”
“You came in later than usual, which means you either overslept or had somewhere else to be this morning. But since you texted Daniel at 6:00 a.m., I know it wasn’t the former,” she explains. “You were wearing jeans when you came in and had Daniel bring your dry cleaning to the office, so you probably weren’t at home to get dressed, which means you woke up somewhere else. You also have ‘I just got laid’ written all over your face, and I know you’d never cheat, even on a fake significant other. Therefore, something happened between you and Adrian.”
I blink for a moment. “You know, sometimes you’re a little scary.”
“And that’s why you love me,” she says with a grin. “So spill.”
“We—” I try to hide my stupid grin, but can’t. “Well, we’re not exactly fake anymore.”
“Fucking finally,” she exclaims.
“Mina,” I scold in a hushed tone. “We’re not the only ones in this office right now.”
She grimaces and glances at the door before lowering her voice. “Sorry. But seriously, tell me everything.”
“He called me yesterday evening—texted me, actually, but then I called him because for once I actually had a free evening. Anyway, he sounded upset and had clearly called to talk about whatever it was, but then he thought against it, I guess, and hung up on me. So—”
“Let me guess, you dropped everything and showed up unannounced,” she says with a smirk. “Classic Jamie.”
“I brought over my mom’s frozen lasagna and one thing led to another and he asked me to stay,” I say carefully.
“Y’all hooked up.”
“No,” I say reflexively. “Well, yes, but…”
“It was more than that?” she teases.
I wrinkle my nose. “Ugh, it sounds gross when you say it. But yes, it was more than that. I didn’t go over there for that. I went over because he had a bad day and I wanted to be there for him. And nothing really happened until I was going to leave. We just watched TV and ate dinner. Okay, and we kind of cuddled, but that was it.”
“Cute.”
“Shut up.” I grab a stress ball off my desk and chuck it at her, which she catches with ease. “But then I was standing at the door about to leave and…”
“Then y’all hooked up.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes. But again, it was different.”
She smiles and tosses the stress ball back to me. “Well, of course it was. You’re both completely smitten with each other. Neither of you are good enough actors to fake the way you look at each other when you think the other isn’t watching.”
My cheeks heat, and I toss the ball back.
“So where does this leave you?” she asks.
“We talked this morning, and I convinced him to give this a real chance,” I say.
“You convinced him?”
“Kind of.” I shrug. “I mean, he admitted that he has feelings for me, but he’s…”
“Closed off?” she supplies, and I nod. “Yeah, Sophie told me how long it took for him to finally accept her invitation to hang out outside of work. And how even now, she feels like he holds himself back.”
“He’s just so used to people leaving.”
“And even though he likes you, he’s afraid you’ll be the same,” she guesses.
“Pretty much.”
“Well, it probably won’t take long for him to realize that there’s not much he can do to get rid of you. I’ve been trying to get rid of you for ten years and here we are.”
“You love me,” I argue.
“Yeah, I do.” She smiles and sets the ball back down on the desk. “And I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks.” I return her grin. “I’m actually really happy. I feel like a total cliche, but I quite literally woke up with a smile on my face.”
“Just be careful, okay? We’re less than four months away from Election Day and—”
“Yeah, I know. I can’t lose sight of the campaign,” I finish.
“No, you can’t. Speaking of, we should go get some coffee.” She stands and smoothes her pants.
My stomach sinks. “Polling numbers?”
“Yup.”
I all but hold my breath our entire walk to the coffee shop down the street. Mina didn’t say anything else while we were in my office because legally, she couldn’t. But I could tell by her tone the results aren’t good. I was having such a good morning, too, minus the not-quite-a-fight I had with Adrian. But apparently, what goes up, must immediately come down.
We get our coffees, then head back out to the street to walk so we can’t be as easily overheard. She goes to pull a folder out of her bag, but I wave her off.
“Just give me the spark notes,” I say, seeing as I have a meeting in forty minutes.
“You’re down by one.”
“But I was just ahead by two.”
She takes a sip of her iced coffee. “You were, but both results are within the margin of error, so really, all this tells us is that it’s tight. And Mitchell gave a speech at a charity event, which got him some good press.”
“Oh, God, what did he say this time?” I groan.
“Nothing new, but he doubled down on his whole ‘Montgomery doesn’t have anything tying him to this district. I’m from here. My family lives here. My opponent spends all his time in Washington going to clubs.’ nonsense.” She rolls her eyes.
“My family is in that district, too,” I argue. “I’m from there. My parents are there. And I haven’t been back to that club in months! Yes, I spend a lot of my time in Washington, but that’s because I’m already in Congress. I’m fighting for laws that will better the people in my district.”
“I know that, and your supporters know that. But the people in the middle are easily swayed.” She pauses with a grimace. “But also, that isn’t the kind of family he was talking about.”
“So this is about Adrian.” I scowl. “God, this is so fucking frustrating. People like Mitchell are exactly why spending more of my time in DC is more appealing in the first place! He’s just hiding his homophobia behind southern passive aggression. How the fuck am I supposed to fight against that without looking defensive?”
“You can’t, at least not directly.”
I sigh and take a drink from my iced herbal tea. “So what do I do? Do I go home for a visit? Would that honestly fix things?”
She shrugs. “You’d be surprised. You’ve got the break coming up. It would be smart to spend a good chunk of it back home.”
“Yeah, you’re right. And I was thinking about it,” I admit. “But I was also looking forward to spending some more time with Adrian, especially now that we’ve decided to try this out for real.”
“Bring him,” she says as if it’s simple. “That will look even better to your constituents who are falling for Mitchell’s rhetoric that you’re not serious about family. Nothing says serious like bringing your boyfriend home.”
The idea of bringing Adrian home with me is appealing. Showing him around to all of my favorite places, introducing him to my parents. But I don’t like the idea of using him to rank better in polls.
“How is that any different from what you’ve already been doing?” Mina asks when I say as much out loud.
“It’s not, and that’s my point. If I’m going to convince him that I’m not going anywhere and that he can let me in, I need to make sure he knows I’m not with him because it makes it easier for me to get re-elected, even if that’s how this started out,” I explain.
“Then keep the focus on wanting to show him around your home,” she says, as if it’s really that simple.
“And if he says no?”
“He won’t.”
“He might.”
“Then you go home by yourself. But you won’t know unless you ask.”
It takes about a week before I get the courage to ask Adrian to come home to North Carolina with me. I wanted to have all the details of my campaign schedule for the month figured out before approaching him with it. It took a little arguing with Mina and Ben, but I managed to organize for me to be completely free the long weekend at the beginning of the break—no meetings, no campaigning, nothing. Then that Monday, I have a visit scheduled at Mills Family Farm, a rescue goat farm I helped save from going out of business last year. I figured it would be the perfect campaign trail stop to bring my veterinarian boyfriend to—just a tour of the changes the farm’s been able to make with the grant I helped them get and a photo op with some goats.
But that’s the only one I’m going to ask him to be there for. While Mina had a point that the foundation of my arrangement with Adrian was to use him to save my image, it doesn’t sit right now that we’re actually dating. Plus, even before we became real, I promised him that I would do everything I could to keep him out of the public eye. Posting a few carefully curated pictures on social media and talking about him in my coming out interview is one thing, but parading him around a campaign trail for a week is another. Plus, I don’t want to take him away from work or his fur babies for too long.
Now I just have to see if he agrees to it. I really hope he does, and not because I think a photo of us with some goats would be equal parts good press and adorable. But I want to introduce him to this part of my life. He’s only ever seen the DC version of me—the congressman that works long hours and doesn’t know how to relax. I want him to see the North Carolina me—the Jamie that drives with the windows down, spends Saturdays at the flea market with my mom looking for weird shit, and loves barbecue.
My phone pinging with Adrian’s “I’m here” text pulls me out of my thoughts. I glance around my apartment one last time to make sure everything is in its place, then jog down the stairs to let him in. I unlock and pull the outer door open, grinning once I lay eyes on him, still wearing his teal scrubs from the shift he just finished with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. It’s only been two days since I last saw him for a quick dinner between late meetings, but now I get him all to myself for the next twenty-four hours, and I couldn’t be more happy about it.
“Hey, sweetheart,” I say as I take his hand and pull him inside. The entryway is only barely less swamp-like than outside, so I decide to save a proper hug for once we’re inside the air-conditioned confines of my apartment. But I still lean in for a kiss.
His hand squeezes mine as he sighs against my lips. “Hi,” he murmurs as he pulls away.
“Come on.” I lead him upstairs, then smile as I gesture around the living room. “Welcome to my DC apartment.”
He lets go of my hand and slips off his shoes before venturing further into my open-concept living space. “It looks surprisingly homey for you only being in your first term.”
“That would be my mom,” I say with a small smile. “She and my dad helped me move up here, and she’s big into home decor. She said something about wanting it to remind me of my North Carolina apartment so I wouldn’t get homesick.”
