Page 25 of Notorious

“Um. I’ll get dressed, and then we can?—”

There’s a knock on the door.

“Breakfast is here,” Johnny says. “Maybe we start with that.”

As I watch my tall, handsome husband open the door for room service, I question how I’m going to deal with this. I was already overstretched, with work and the campaign.

But this isn’t optional. I can take on something else when it’s as important as this is.

As he is.

CHAPTER 9

Johnny

Well, hell. My plan didn’t work. Whatever the opposite of a plan coming together is, that’s what happened. A falling apart. A failure.

That’s what I am. A failure at my plan to fix my mama.

Do I even trust Kurt? I’ve known him less than a day, and most of that time, we were both drunk. How can he do what he’s suggesting? Is he just saying whatever he can to save his own ass?

The violin wails in my head. I should’ve just shot myself, with or without the pills.

We’re sitting at the dining table off to the side of the hotel suite. He chose the greasy breakfast, so I pick at a plate of egg whites and veggies while he’s having bacon and a cheesy ham omelet. I hold up my hand, the metal ring on it shiny and unfamiliar.

“Are you sure y’all don’t wanna get this thing annulled?” I say, watching Kurt bite into a piece of toast. His lush lips press together as he chews, and his throat works when he swallows. I’m tempted to move closer to him, to touch him. To feel his skin against mine.

We kissed last night. I want to kiss him again.

A weird feeling settles in my stomach that has nothing to do with the hangover. Part of me likes the symbolism of the ring on my finger.

A lot of me likes him.

Kurt’s shoulders stiffen in reaction to my words, and his gaze goes distant. I wanna kick myself for making him sad. “It’s probably what we should do. My fucking strategist is having kittens, and I’m afraid to think what my mom—er—mother’s going to say. But you’re more important than any of that.”

He says that so easily, but I plain don’t believe him. No one runs for office and then says the election don’t matter. The election’s all that matters.

“Now, I’m a skeptic,” I say slowly, “and I think most politicians are just in it for the notoriety and to promote themselves. I get the feeling, though, that you’re going into politics thinking that you’re gonna make better decisions than the last person in that position.”

“Of course,” Kurt says, sounding like he’s not sure where I’m going with this.

“In other words, you’re thinking about the good of society. Right?”

“Right.”

I almost scoff, but I don’t want to offend him. “So you’re telling me that you’re idealistic enough to get into politics to help others. That you’re civic-minded. But you’ll set that all aside, and you’re perfectly willing to sacrifice those good laws or whatever you might be able to achieve … for me?”

To his credit, Kurt doesn’t look annoyed. He must be used to people challenging him. So, hmm. Maybe he would make a good politician, because he can keep his cool.

He puts down his toast and leans in. “Have you seen The Last of Us?”

“That a TV show?”

He nods.

I shake my head.

“Then I’ll do my best not to spoil it. All right … there’s a scene in the show where the protagonist has to choose between saving all of humanity—maybe. Or saving a little girl—maybe. And the episode is about what decision he makes.”

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