Page 45 of Notorious

“Kurt! Why didn’t you call last night?”

“Sorry. I’ve been busy.”

“I’ll say.” She lets out an annoyed laugh. “Your father and I have been wondering what you were thinking. Marrying a … a … a total stranger?”

A stranger? When he’s gazing at me, Johnny focuses so intently I feel seen for the first time in my life.

And I seem to please that big, sad cowboy.

“I don’t really have a good answer for that, but I do like him. A lot.”

Her pause tells me that’s not the answer she was expecting. “Okay. So … he’s not simply a mistake you made while drinking too much?”

Yes. No. “I don’t know yet.” I cringe as I ask, “Has there been any impact on your approval rating?”

“Too early to tell, but predictions are that I’ll drop eight points.”

I recoil. “Oh, damn,” I mutter.

“It could be worse.” She sounds resigned rather than angry. “I’m more worried about you and your life … and the primary.”

My stomach dips. With all my concerns about Johnny’s mental health, I’d set my own issues off to the side. But now they come roaring back. “I’m fine. What are they saying?” I ask. I’m not sure who I mean by “they.” People who talk shit, I guess.

“It’s … not positive, honey. While you have some defenders, the majority of social media posts I’ve seen are about how your behavior doesn’t show strong family values.”

“For god’s sake,” I mutter.

“I’m sorry for passing along bad news. Your father and I love you no matter what, of course. You just need to find a way to convey your goodness to the voters.”

The stress of the past few days is crashing down on me. My failure at obtaining funding. My decision to drink my cares away. My drunken marriage. My suicidal husband.

I want to scream. “I don’t know how to do that.”

“Talk with Paige. She’ll have ideas. That’s what you hired her for.”

“I know.” My voice lowers. “While it’s unconventional, I really like him, Mom.”

Another pause. “Then let me know what I can do to support you. And him.”

I blink back unexpected tears. While part of me thinks she’s being pragmatic—because a united front’s always stronger than a splintered one—this is also her being more of a mom than a politician. I like it when she skews that direction. “Thanks, I appreciate that.” I have to clear my throat before I can continue. “Can we talk more later? I need to take Johnny to an appointment soon.”

“Of course. Oh, Kurt? Does he want to meet Dad and me?”

“At some point, we should do that, yes,” I say. “But we have a few things to do around here first. When are you next coming down south?”

“I’ll check my schedule and talk with Dad. Likely not for a few weeks.”

Am I even going to be with Johnny in a few weeks? My gut tightens. I want to be. Does he?

He’ll still be alive then, right? Fuck. He damn well better be.

“We’ll see you then,” I say, sounding more confident than I feel. We hang up, and I immediately call my campaign manager.

“You motherfucking bastard,” she starts.

I cough a laugh. “Hi, Paige. I’m fine. How are you?”

“I am not fine. Do you know how many angry messages I’ve had to field via every medium possible—email, phone, direct messages on all possible social media platforms. Carrier pigeons. Town criers. I swear, Kurt, I thought you were boring, and then you go and do this.”

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