Page 3 of The Senator: Raphael

“Maybe it’s a stupid suggestion, but have you tried going out with her outside the set? Maybe knowing each other better will help.”

He frowns. “Oh, no. We slept together and it was a total disaster.” He says it like it’s no big deal. And for him it probably isn’t.

I snort, trying not to laugh. “So, maybethat’sthe problem, huh?”

“Probably, but knowing it doesn’t change the fact that the movie will flop, and I’ll have to deal with the consequences.”

I nod, not knowing how to help him. I close my eyes and enjoy the sweat running down my body, feeling my muscles relax a bit.

“So, are you going to tell me whyyouhave that face or are we going to pretend everything is normal with you?” he asks after a while.

I knew this question was coming. He can read my moods better than anyone else.

“The campaign is sinking faster than I expected,” I admit.

I open my eyes and land my gaze on his frowning one. “Are there really people that don’t like you? I thought you were the one dropping panties with that dazzling smile.” He jokes but I notice the slight concern in his tone. He’s one of the few people who knows how important this campaign is to me. He was there years ago to pick up the pieces.

“Apparently, not being married is keeping some people from voting for me,” I sigh, tired of having this conversation.

“Really? Why do they care?” He rests his hands behind his head, showing off his muscled arms.

“Gods only knows. They think a man who commits to a woman is more reliable than a single one. Never mind that most weddings end up in flames in the first few years. Or that so many cheat behind their significant other’s back.”

He nods and seems to think about it. “What does your team say about it?”

I sigh, already knowing where this conversation is going to end up. “They want me to find someone to marry, or at least have a serious relationship. An arranged thing, like a hundred years ago.”

He frowns. “So why are you worried? You have a solution, just go with it.”

I look at him with a disapproving stare. “Am I the only one who thinks marriage should be between two people who love each other? And meaningful? Why are you all so careless about it? I know most marriages these days are a farce, but that doesn’t mean I want to join in the destruction of it.”

“So, find someone you love and marry her,” he states simply.

“Okay, sure. Let me take a look at my contacts and see if I can find the love of my life.”

Harrison rolls his eyes. “Actors do it all the time. Our publicist usually sets up the relationship for us. You just have to choose someone you like, then get on with it. Sometimes it’s strictly platonic, other times we hook up. It helps our careers. It can be just a few dates or a longer period and more commitment, but the public appreciates it, so why not? Just try to choose someone you admire. It’s not that big of a deal.”

A marriage in Hollywood can last a few hours—no joke, I saw an actor marry a fan in Vegas and end up in court a few hours later to end the thing, the signatures weren’t even dry yet—to several years, but nobody cares whether it’s spur-of-the moment or they love each other. They’re celebrities, everyone expects them to have an eccentric life. I can’t marry someone and divorce her a month later.

“You make it sound easy.”

He scoffs. “Because itiseasy.”

“You’re not helping, you know that?”

He shrugs, closes his eyes, and enjoys the heat, leaving me to overthink our conversation.

***

I walk into my living room that is already dark. The lights from the swimming pool are filtering through the windows, giving a warm glow to the earth tones of the walls and furniture. The thing I loved most about this house was the Mediterranean vibe it had the first time I saw it. On sunny days, it feels like it belongs in a little Spanish town.

I inhale deeply and the faint smell of bleach reminds me that I’m not on vacation in some foreign country. This is my house, one my staff keeps meticulously clean, but that I never have the chance to enjoy.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I grab it and see my father’s name, then let it go straight to voicemail. He probably saw the news Matthew gave me today and wants to rant about it. I’m honestly too tired to deal with him right now.

I walk into my home office and turn on the table lamp, sitting at my desk. Noticing a yellow folder with Cindy’s curly handwriting on a post-it that reads ‘Keep an open mind,’ I open it and a dozen women’s headshots stare back at me. Pictures and information ranging from where they went to school to what their careers are. Potential wives lined up like it’s a cattle call. I hate it. I hate all of this but I’m sinking and apparently this is what people expect from me.

Closing the folder, I decide to deal with it tomorrow. I open the last drawer of my desk and pick up my senior yearbook. I’ve opened it so many times since I graduated, the pages are almost falling out. I don’t have to search for her. The book opens exactly to the page where I see her staring back at me with a smile. She was the one I was supposed to spend my life with. She wasThe One. Period.

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