Page 49 of Presidential Bargain
I risked a glance next to me and saw Georgie’s eyes swimming with tears. Her bottom lip was trembling and there was so much sadness written all over her face that I regrettedtellingher.
“Did he make it?” she askedtentatively.
I looked away because I didn’t have the strength to answer that. I didn’t have the courage to tell her that sometimes, my nightmares replayed the day I went to that man’s home and told his mother that her only son had been killed. That I had been helpless to save him because that would have meant my own death. I selfishly sacrificed him for myownlife.
“I’m so sorry, Jameson.” Georgie turned to face me and placed her trembling lips against my cheek. Too soon, the warmth of her lips disappeared. “Thank you fortellingme.”
She sat up in bed and swiped her cheeks, removing any trace that a tear or two had managed to escape. Instinctively, I reached out and captured her arm loosely in my grip. She looked down at it and then finallyatme.
“Stay with me tonight.Please.”
Georgie’s eyes closed and I saw the battle that waged inside of her. Part of her wanted to stay while the other half wanted to flee. Which sidewouldwin?
“I can’t, Jameson. It’s notright.”
“Iunderstand.”
She kept her eyes on me until she disappeared into the hallway. I let out a heavy breath and ran my hands over my face. There would be no more sleeptonight.
I sat up in bed and clicked on the lamp on the bedside table. A stack of folders waited for me; they contained information I needed to review. My laptop was under the folders and I grabbed that instead. I opened it and turned it on. It took a second for the log-in screen to appear and once I was in, I bypassed my email. No doubt, there were dozens of emails I could return. Instead, I navigated to a folder I recently saved, which contained the photographs Sierra Simmons took for the article. She sent copies of all the images to me a few days ago. I meant to share them with Georgie when we finally reunited after that long week apart, but then the shit hit the fan, and all I could think about was putting outanotherfire.
I clicked through each image, enamored by the couple I saw. I didn’t recognize myself in the photographs at all because he looked like he was in love. He looked so in love with the woman he held, with the woman who gazed back at him. Their looks mirrored each other. I wanted to blame our expressions on Photoshop, but that only diminished the emotions I knew Georgie felt. Her expression was genuine. But, was mine? Or was itamask?
Ihated leavingJameson afterlistening to him tell me about his nightmare. It was cruel, but I struggled to keep giving him more. I had to harden my heart because I feared the moment Jameson would break it. I returned to the spare bedroom and attempted to sleep, but I was restless. I was haunted by the story he shared and the image of Jameson pulling his men free from their burning vehicle. I could only imagine how he felt and knew that sleep probably eluded us both thatnight.
When the first rays of dawn peeked through the curtains, I decided to give up. I left my room for the kitchen with the intent of making breakfast. Jameson was already there, sitting at the table, with a cup of coffee and newspapers spread out in front of him. He wore a T-shirt and running shorts. His feet were bare, but I could see his phone, armband, earbuds, and shoes waiting for him. He was getting readytorun.
We didn’t acknowledge each other, but I felt his heated gaze watching me. I found a mug, filled it with coffee, and with a glance back at the handsome, brooding man who tracked my movements with his glacial blue eyes, I headed downstairs. I thought it best that he and I be as far apart as possible before the campaign took over. I flicked on the television but kept the volume low so I could hear him move. Despite the arguments, the uncertainty, and the distance that now existed between us, I still wanted to be a part of his world and his life. I wanted him more thananythingelse.
I heard the front door open and close a little while later, signaling his departure. I needed an outlet, something to help me clear my head. The only thing that came to mind was Avon. I was certain she and DeWayne would attend tomorrow night’s debate, and I hoped they would both be at the housetonight.
The rest of the day dragged. I remained in my spot on the large, beige sectional for most of it, watching crappy reality shows. Jameson wasn’t gone very long and when he returned, I kept one ear trained on the sounds he made. Footsteps as he moved around above me. The echo of his deep voice throughout the house as he talked on the phone. The front door opening and closing every time someone arrived. Gradually, the voices in the house increased and I could no longer just hearJameson.
Frustrated that my connection to him was now gone, I headed upstairs. A small army of chefs had taken over Jameson’s gourmet kitchen, starting their dinner preparation. The aromas coming from what they’d already prepared smelled divine. Garlic, oregano, parmesan. My mouth watered. I wandered around, observing the hustle and bustle. Jameson was nowhere in sight. A makeshift office was set up in the formal living room at the front of the house, and members of the campaign staff were preparing documents and assembling packets of information. I kept moving around the house, up to the third level where, in addition to Jameson’s master bedroom, was also Jameson’s office. I hadn’t been in that room, but once I reached the landing, I could hear him again. His voice was so distinct, so smooth and rich, that I would know it anywhere. I gravitated toward the sound and stood just outside his office, listening to hisconversation.
The only other person in the room beside Jameson was Sean. Their conversation sounded boring, but it didn’t matter to me. What mattered was that Jameson was on the other side of that door, and this was the closest I had been to him all day long. I pressed a hand to the door, hoping for some sort of connection. I nearly fell into his office when the door openedsuddenly.
I was face-to-face with Sean, who looked just as surprised. I quickly righted myself and sprinted away, seeking refuge in the spare bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed, my heart racing. I didn’t want to be caught loitering outside of his office; I’d just wanted to beclose.
The door opened, and I didn’t have to turn around to know whoitwas.
“Can I come in?” Jameson askedsoftly.
“It’s your house.” I scolded myself for theflippanttone.
“But this is your space and I won’t disturb it if you don’twantme.”
Of course I want you, I wanted to scream. After last night, I wanted himevenmore.
“It’s fine. Come in.” I turned slightly and out of the corner of my eye, I could see him fully enter the room. He sat next to me and I noticed that he wore a well-worn pair of jeans that had several tears and holes, and an Eagles concert T-shirt.
“Did you want something?” Almost absentmindedly, Jameson picked up my left hand and began toying with the ring I wore. He twisted and turned it and rubbed the pad of his thumb along the glittering emerald. There was a deep crease in the middle of his brow, as if he was concentrating intensely onsomething.
“No.” I couldn’t bring myself to admit that I was lurking just to hear hisvoice.
“Then why were you outside my office?” He finally looked up and our eyes met, blue and green. Emerald andaquamarine.
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. It was the best I could come up with, because there was no logical reason for me to bethere.
