Page 9 of Campaign Season
"I don't," Candace repeated.
"I'm sure that's true," Jameson replied, taking a deep breath. "But I also think you're avoiding seeing him."
Jameson watched as the blue of Candace's eyes flared bright.
"You can deny it and get mad at me," Jameson said. "It won't make you feel better."
"You think I'm avoiding Jon?"
"I think watching him decline hurts—not only for the kids. He's been your friend your entire life, and you shared a life with him for a long time. You love him, Candace. Not in the way you needed to be married, and maybe not quite in the way he still loves you. But you do... love him. I think you're worried about falling apart."
"Of course it hurts," Candace replied more harshly than usual. "I'm worried about the kids."
"Me too. You don't want the kids to see how hard this is foryou. I know you, Candace. You can fool most people. There's a reason Cass told you to make a visit back home. She sees it too."
Candace threw her head back and groaned. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay."
"It's not. I need to stay focused right now."
"I'll call Marianne," Jameson said.
"Jameson, I can?—"
"You're traveling the next couple of days. I'll call Marianne and make a plan. Okay? We can do something after the election. No matter what happens, it will be a good time for you to take a breath."
Candace nodded. "Thank you."
Jameson smiled and kissed Candace's cheek. "I need to check in with Dana before I leave."
"Looking forward to your trip to Michigan?"
"It gets me out of the?—"
"Mouse house?"
Jameson shrugged. "Yep. Besides, I was promised an afternoon of fishing."
"Mm-hm. So, that's how Shellluredyou to campaign with Aubrey Peters."
Jameson laughed. "Cute."
Candace winked. "Catch some voters while you're there."
"Don't worry. I don't intend to come home empty-handed," Jameson said as she walked to the door.
"Should I expect dinner or someone for dinner?" Candace called after her.
Jameson turned, flashed Candace a grin, and shrugged.
Candace shook her head. "God only knows what she'll bring back," she muttered.
Luke stepped into the room. "Madam President?"
"Luke. What kind of fish should I expect Jameson to come home with from Michigan?"
"I'm sorry?"
