Page 23 of Campaign Season
“We should stop telling everyone to go home,” Jameson replied. “Like this space is work for them.”
“Because it is.”
“It’s a lot more than that to them—to Alex and Cassidy—to Dana and Shell. I know they all work for you in some way. But they’re family. Don’t keep pushing them out when they want to stay,” Jameson said, pulling Candace into her arms.
“I’m afraid to see him… Jonathan,” Candace confessed.
“I know. I am, too—a little.”
“He's always been this force in my life. Always so much bigger than me. Strong.”
“Funny, he sees you that way,” Jameson said.
“Mm. Different kinds of strength.”
“I understand. He’s the football hero. Watching him…”
"Wither?"
“Decline,” Jameson said softly. “It’s hard. I know it is.”
“I need to be prepared, to?—”
“You need to be Candy,” Jameson said. “When you’re with Jonathan, you need to be Candy. Not the president. Not Candace—just be the person you are to him.”
“How do I say goodbye?”
“Maybe you don’t.”
Candace sighed.
“Maybe you just let go.”
Candace closed her eyes, pressing back tears.
“I thought about him today,” Jameson said. “When I was trying to get that fish in the water.”
Candace listened, tracing patterns over Jameson’s arm.
“Maybe he’s a little like that trout. Caught in between worlds. You know? The fish needed a nudge to realize he’d be okay. What Jonathan needs is a nudge to see that you will be.”
“He’s not holding on for me.”
“Oh, I think he is. He’s known you for your entire life, Candace. He was your husband for over twenty years. He knows you. Letting him go is no easy feat for you. And it shouldn’t be. He understands what you deal with daily, and he knows how much you beat yourself up for not being able to stop the world when one of the kids needs you—when I do, or he does.”
Candace leaned into Jameson’s touch, her breath shaky against her shoulder. “Sometimes it feels like everything is moving so fast. Campaigns, crises, the press cycle—like I’m standing on shifting ground all the time. I just want one thing to stay still.”
Jameson tightened her hold. “Then let’s stay still. Right here. For as long as you need.”
Candace turned her head, brushing her lips against Jameson’s temple. “Can we? Just… stay here a while?”
Jameson smiled, her eyes damp. “We can. The world can wait until tomorrow.”
Candace closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the steady rhythm of Jameson’s breathing, the hum of voices still lingering faintly down the hall, the house finally settling into quiet—the tick of a clock somewhere marking time she didn’t have to chase. For tonight, at least, she could stop running.
And in Jameson’s arms, she felt—just for a moment—still. "I love you," she whispered.
"I love you, too, Candace. More than you'll ever understand."
