Page 44 of The Bodyguard Affair
I nod in solidarity. It feels unfair that the woman always seems to have to make the sacrifice. It’s why there are so few women at the highest levels of politics.
Gretchen runs her finger over one of Jason’s tiny knit sweaters. “I know it sounds awful, but I miss my life. Don’t get me wrong, I care about the charity work, but I miss getting my hands dirty, going through case law, poring over files, being up late into the night. Going to court the next morning and eviscerating the other side. I feel resentful that I’ve lost that part of me.”
This is one of the reasons I’ve always had a soft spot for Gretchen, even if she’s not the easiest person to work for. She’s basically a prisoner in her life. She can’t just go for lunch with a friend on a whim. She can’t go anywhere unless it’s cleared and approved by security. And when she does, there’s no hope of privacy with security and the public watching her every move. I can’t even imagine what that must be like, especially for someone who was always so independent. “I don’t blame you. It probably doesn’t help that you’re alone most of the time.”
“Eric always worked long hours. We both did. But this is on a whole different level. He’s somewhere else all the time. Even when he’s physically here, he’s got his nose buried in files, he’s memorizing speeches, he’s on his phone answering texts and emails. And he’s…stressed-out.” She’s not wrong. Since he took office, he’s gotten much grayer than he was before. The lines on his forehead and around his mouth have become deeper, more pronounced.
I hate seeing her like this. She doesn’t seem happy, and I can’t imagine what another four years of this would do to her soul. I’ve never wished for Eric not to win. I want him to win, he deserves to win, and I think Canadians deserve for him to win. But at what cost to his personal life? “Have you talked to Eric about this?”
She nods. “He knows how I feel. But I can’t expect him to walk away from what he was born to do.” She doesn’t say it outright, but I think she’s seriously considering leaving him. “Not that I have a choice,” she adds.
“Technically, you do,” I remind her, though she isn’t far from the truth. Separating right before the election wouldn’t be ideal. It would be used as fodder by the opposition to prove Eric isn’tfit to run. I can hear the sound bites now. “How is Eric fit to run a country when he can’t even keep his family together?”
“What would you do in my position?” she asks.
My jaw hinges open. Is she actually asking for my advice, like we’re friends or something? I honestly have no idea what I would do. “I’d do what makes me happiest, deep down.”
She nods, teary. I can’t tell if it’s the answer she wants to hear or not. “Thanks, Andi.”
A soft knock at the door interrupts the moment. I expect it to be one of the housekeepers, but it’s Nolan. My stomach twinges and patters when I see him. I haven’t seen him since we came from Squamish.
“Hey, I hope I’m not interrupting,” Nolan says from the doorway, his eyes widening when he spots Gretchen. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were in the middle of something.”
Gretchen waves his words away with an exaggerated smile. “Nolan! It’s so nice to see you. And no, you’re not interrupting.” She gives me a swift elbow. “What can we help you with?”
“I just came by to see if you wanted to sit on the back patio and have lunch.” He holds up a brown paper bag, flashing me a sheepish grin. “But it looks like you’re busy, so we can re—”
“No! Not busy,” Gretchen corrects abruptly. “Andi was just finishing briefing me on some gala logistics.” She stands and brushes off her outfit, giving me a knowing look.
“Uh, are you sure?”
“Of course! God. I remember when Eric used to give me little surprises like this. You two are in the best stage, when it’s still fun and exciting. I wish I could be your age again, with all that freedom to be young and in love.” It occurs to me that, in a way, she’s living vicariously through me, which makes me sad for her.“And I’m heading out to meet with Leslie,” she informs, referring to one of the gala donors.
“Don’t forget to bring her gift!” I say, passing her the small gift bag of prosecco I picked up this morning.
Gretchen takes it and gives us both a wink before she exits the room, leaving Nolan and me alone.
He flashes me a boyish smile and swallows. “Do you have lunch plans?”
“Lunch?”
“If you’re too busy, no worries. I just thought, you know, since we’re supposed to be dating, eating lunch together is something couples do if they work together. At least I assume so?” He scratches the back of his neck, unsure. I don’t blame him. The last time we were pretending to be a couple in public, we kissed.
A warmth overtakes me before I can stop it. Maybe it’s the memory of the kiss, or the fact that I’ve never actually taken a real lunch break since I started working for Gretchen. That, and no guy has ever brought me lunch before.
“Yeah, I think couples definitely have lunch together.”
Chapter 20
Nolan
“It’s the mozza sticks from Roger’s Diner! These are my favorite.” Andi’s eyes are so wide, you’d think she was staring at a pot of glittering gold, not a greasy container of deep-fried cheese sticks.
We’re outside at a picnic table on the stone patio area, off the staff’s entrance. According to Andi, this is the perfect place to go to be “seen.” She’s not wrong. It’s sunny out, so some of the other staff are soaking up the weather, loitering in the back chatting, eating their lunch, and doing a terrible job of pretending to mind their own business. The whispers are more distracting than I’d like to admit.
“I know. You said they were your writing fuel…that night.” I whisper the “writing” part, pushing the box across the table, trying to hide my nerves. This all feels a little grimy, like I’m trying to bribe her with food or something.
She pops a cheese stick in her mouth nearly whole, only toregret it instantly, cover her mouth, and blow the piping hot air from her cheeks. If she were a cartoon, lines of steam would be floating around her. I hand her a bottle of water, which she gratefully takes. “We need a code word. For writing,” she whispers back, eyeing the rest of the staff, who are hovering a little too close for comfort.
