by Avery James
Instead, he stupidly said nothing.
His silence tore at him, and he didn't know how much longer he could hold back from saying something he'd regret. At least when they were putting on a show for other people, he could pretend to himself for a while that everything was ok. Charlotte tried her best to keep him upbeat, but he could see through her fake happiness. He recognized the signs of weariness in her face, the way she tensed up when he grabbed her hand, the way she forced each laugh just a little too hard. He wondered if anyone else could notice what was so obvious to him. She had opened her heart to him, and he had denied her with his silence. She had every right to hate him. He deserved it.
They had made a deal, and Jack had almost immediately changed the terms. He had asked Charlotte for more than she signed up for, even after insisting to her that he wanted the exact opposite of a connection. He had asked her to let him into her heart, and she had accepted. She had gone against her better judgment and allowed herself to love him, and now he was too afraid to tell her how he felt.
He just didn't know how to explain his situation to her. He didn't know how to tell her why he had to run off late at night to make mysterious phone calls, why he fought with his family, and why he hadn't allowed himself to have a serious girlfriend in years. She didn't seem to understand his insistence at why he could never be the man she wanted, a good father and a family man. How could he explain now about Maria and little Jack? He couldn't reveal the love child he'd been hiding from her for months, his biggest secret in the world, now that he had been dumb enough to let this perfect woman love him.
There didn't seem to be any good solution. Jack just knew that he couldn't go on much longer having Charlotte so close and yet so far away. On the island, he had felt a taste of what it would be like if they could live simply and for each other. It had been wonderful, a dream. The whole time, he had known he'd have to wake up and come back to reality at some point.
Well, here he was, wide awake and standing backstage of an empty gymnasium. He needed to get out. He needed to take a walk. He headed for the door, pushing his way out into the parking lot. The first cars were starting to arrive for the debate, and Jack did his best to avoid them. It must have been fifteen degrees or so, and the cold air stung his face and his lungs as he walked. It had been snowing on and off for days, and a thick layer of salt-and-sand-streaked crud clung to every surface of the parking lot.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw someone head out of the gymnasium after him. He knew it was Charlotte, following him with a jacket. It was pointless to try to get away from her. She'd just keep after him until she caught up. He stopped and stared off into the distance, listening to the salt crunch underfoot as she approached.
"I'm just getting some air," he said. He didn't want to look at her. She was going to try and cheer him up or apologize again or—
"You're acting like an ass," she said.
Ok, didn't expect that, he thought
"I'm sorry, what?" Jack asked. He turned around.
Charlotte marched up to him and tossed the jacket at him. Her eyes were full of fire.
"I get it," she said, "I crossed the line, but you have an entire team of people working for you who are counting on you. You have donors and volunteers and supporters who all believe in you, and, ok, you know what, being a little selfish, you have me, and I dropped everything in my life to help you chase this goal, so stop pouting. You're moping around like a sullen teenager. Stop acting like a spoiled brat and do your job. Go back inside and tell everyone how much you appreciate their work instead of wandering around like you wish you were on a beach somewhere."
Charlotte spun around and marched back inside, leaving Jack alone. He had seen her stand up for herself. He had seen her stand up for him, but never had she called him out like that.
She was right, of course. She was always right. He was being selfish and moody, and he needed to snap out of it. The world was bigger than him and the fact that, against his will, he might be falling in love with his own wife. It was bigger than his own pig-headed worry that somehow he'd drive her away. And besides, after the event was over, he had all the time in the world to keep wondering how to further mess up what should have been a great thing.
Jack tossed the coat over his shoulder and headed inside after Charlotte. Maybe he hadn't given her enough credit. Soon, he would find some way of explaining how he felt, of telling her how much she had changed his life, but first, he had to take the infinitely easier step of winning a televised primary debate.
***
Charlotte nervously tapped her foot as she watched the start of the debate from the side of the stage. She was too nervous to stay still.
"Stop fidgeting," Lauren whispered. She seemed just as antsy as Charlotte felt, but there was nothing a campaign manager could do while her candidate debated. "We're both on the sidelines for now."
Charlotte tried to calm herself. She needed a distraction.
"God, you're going to think this is so dumb," Charlotte whispered, "but I know almost nothing about the other two candidates in this debate."
"That puts you on the same page as most of the people in the audience," Lauren said. "Beyond his congressional district, people only know Jack because of his family name, but that was enough to scare a few of the big names away from the race. The two he'll be debating tonight are basically exact opposites of each other. Jack's in the middle. To his right, there's Big Greg Lapierre. He's an 'aw shucks' populist. He doesn't believe a word of it, but he's a big, amiable guy who drives a pickup truck and wears jeans. People love him for it."
"We had the misfortune of crossing paths already," Charlotte said.
Lauren laughed. "Then I'll spare you the talk about his negative campaign and how much every member of our team hates him. Honestly, if you weren't in the picture, his attempt to paint Jack as more interested in parties and women probably would have worked a lot better. Of course, your engagement flipped that whole thing on its head. Instead of Jack's personal life being a weakness, you've made it a strength. People can't get enough of the two of you, and Greg's been scrambling for weeks trying to figure out how to go on the attack again.""And the other candidate?" Charlotte asked.
"Gerry Galvin," Lauren replied. "He was actually a bit of a mentor to Jack, but he's never held this level of office. This is really a two way race between Jack and Greg. I like Gerry, but he's closing in on retirement age. I almost feel bad that we have to steamroll him on our way to winning."
"Got it," Charlotte said. She wanted to care about all of this, but more than anything else, she just wanted to know what the hell was going through Jack's mind. Aside from all of his huffing and puffing and brooding outside in snowdrifts, he was sending her all kinds of mixed signals. None of it made any sense, and she just wanted to get an answer out of him. At least he had gotten over his latest pout-bout to thank all of his team members and shake a few hands before the debate began.
"To tell you the truth," Lauren said, "I don't think Big Greg would be in this race at all if Jack wasn't running. He was a constant thorn in the side of Jack's dad when he was still alive, and I think his only motivation is to make sure he sinks John Coburn's son."
On stage, Big Greg smiled a goofy grin and mugged at the camera. "I'd like to welcome my opponent back from his private island. Hopefully he brought some of that tropical weather with him."
So that was how he wanted it. Charlotte felt herself tensing up as she waited for Jack to respond.
Instead, Gerry jumped to Jack's defense. "I'm sure we have a few places we could take you out to..."
Jack was good. He was better than good. He stood taller than he had in weeks. He looked healthy and young next to his opponents. His teeth were whiter, his shoulders broader. He laughed with the audience when Big Greg tried to take pot shots at him. Jack smiled into the camera; he hit his points on every answer. The audience loved him.
Grandparents, single mothers, small business owners, citizens from acro
ss the demographic board stepped up to the microphone and asked their questions. Some seemed genuinely excited to talk, others were nervous, hands shaking as they held on to the microphone, but every last one of them nodded his or her head in agreement with every last word Jack said to them.
At one point, Alice Jablonski, an unemployed single mother from Attleboro stepped up to the mic and explained how she had convinced her neighbor to drive her up to this debate for a chance to ask the candidates what they would do to help make sure her son had a safe and productive school environment.
Charlotte had watched Jack practice his response to almost this exact question almost a hundred times, and yet, Big Greg jumped on it first.
"How old is your son?" he asked.
"Eight years old," Alice replied. "I just don't know what I can do for him."
"Eight years. That's a good age. I remember my daughters at that age. For those of you who don't know, my wife and I have been married for twenty five years, and in that time, we've had three daughters: Melanie, Christine, and Shannon. It feels like they're still just that age themselves instead of getting ready for college like they are now. My wife and my daughters mean the world to me."
Big Greg looked down the stage.
"My opponents and I all know what it's like to have kids at that age." Big Greg paused and looked at Jack. "Forgive me, I should say that I'm sure my opponent will someday know." He smiled a folksy grin, walked in a circle and sat back down on his stool, resting one hand on his knee. "Education would be one of my biggest concerns as senator. Children are the most important thing. What I'm trying to say, and maybe Jack can back me up on this one, is that family comes first, our commitments to family, the vows we take. Isn't that right?"
Charlotte froze. She felt like someone had dropped a ball of ice into her stomach. He's talking about me. He knows. Somehow, he knows. Is he going to expose us on live television? He can't. He won't, right? She realized her heart was racing and she had dug her fingers into Lauren's arm.
"Are you ok?" Lauren whispered. "You're white as a sheet. Don't worry, Jack's doing fine."
Unless Big Greg is about to expose our marriage as a sham. Charlotte's heart thumped in her chest. She felt nauseous, dizzy.
When she had first met Big Greg, Charlotte had interrupted him telling Jack that he knew about Jack's secret. How could he have found out that their marriage was for show? Even her own family didn't know the truth.
Charlotte started to realize that there was a chance her marriage would be exposed as a sham just when it had started to become something real. She didn't know which thought upset her more, the shame and embarrassment at admitting to what she and Jack had done or the possibility that it would end any chance they had at a real marriage.
"The commitments you must have to that eight-year-old boy, the responsibilities, I'm sure they weigh on you every day. Family is important. I might not have the many, many years of experience that Gerry has, and I might not have the fancy name of Mr. Coburn, but if you elect me, you can count on me to protect and fight for every family in this state, whatever form those families come in. What matters most to that boy is that you're there for him, that you're standing up and doing the right thing for him every day." Big Greg's eyes hadn't left Jack the entire time he was talking. "Ma'am," he finished.
The crowd applauded Big Greg's answer. As the noise died down, the moderator read a question submitted online about bringing manufacturing back into the state. It was a softball, a question Jack answered a hundred times a day. Charlotte knew Jack's talking points by heart: We can't recapture the jobs of an old economy. We have to innovate. Our state is home to the greatest research universities and hospitals in the world. We're a center of biomedical, pharmaceutical and technological innovation, and we're going to grow our economy and create new jobs by doing the same thing we've been doing for years, out-working and out-innovating everyone else.
But Jack didn't give that answer. Instead, he doubled back.
"Before I answer that question," he said, "I'd like to take a moment to address a few of the things my opponent said in his last response. Many of you out there have known me for most of my life, since I was the age of Alice's son, since before that time. People always think it's easier to be part of a wealthy and famous family, but I have to tell you, for once in his life, my opponent was right about something. The most important thing you can do for your son is care for him. My job is to make sure you and families just like yours have everything they need to succeed. That includes helping create jobs, and it involves ensuring our public schools are the best funded and best run schools in the country. That's my job. As for what you can do, give him all the love and support he needs." He looked over to the side of the stage and locked his eyes on Charlotte. "Sometimes you just need someone to be there for you."
The rest of the debate passed without incident, but every time he looked at Greg, Jack looked like he could melt iron with his stare. As soon as the moderator thanked the candidates for participating, Lauren poked Charlotte in the side. "Come on, you're up," she said.
"What are you talking about?" Charlotte asked.
"Your man just spent an hour thumping his chest at Big Greg. Now we need to go out and show the media his other side. We need pictures of you and Jack arm in arm because there are two ways this can play in the media tomorrow. One, Jack Coburn is a hothead who can't hold his temper. Two, and you better hope it's two, Jack Coburn is passionate and caring. If he takes a swing at Greg, over the night goes to Lapierre. If he showers affection on you, then he's relatable. There are tens of thousands of people watching this. Go out there and kiss him before the cameras cut out. It's time for your relationship to become the story."
Charlotte felt like the floor had dropped out below her. She was quite content hanging on Jack's arm at fundraisers, but becoming the big story on live television? She wasn't so sure that was a good idea. After all, if Big Greg really did know anything about their marriage, it would only make things worse. Besides, Charlotte wasn't even sure how Jack felt about her. The night was a great example of just how damn confusing it was to be with him. One minute, he was sulking off and the next he was staring into her eyes and all but saying how much he needed her.
"Is that what he needs?" Charlotte asked.
"That's what we all need. It makes your pretty, yacht-sailing boyfriend relatable. This is your chance to make one hell of an impression."
"He's not my boyfriend," Charlotte said, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "He's my husband."
Lauren smiled and gave Charlotte a gentle push forward onto the stage.
Charlotte did her best not to look at Big Greg as he hugged his wife and his perfect daughters. Instead, she focused on Jack, who was clenching his fists behind the podium. Charlotte could tell he was doing everything in his power not to continue his argument with Greg.
Charlotte grabbed his tie and pulled herself close, pressing her lips against his. She felt the warm rush she hadn't felt since the last night of their honeymoon. What had started out for show quickly deepened into something more, and she leaned her weight against him as Jack kissed her back. A moment later, breathless, she brushed her cheek against his. "Did the cameras get that?" she whispered.
"I don't know," Jack said, "but I know I sure did."
Charlotte nuzzled against him. "Watch your temper," she said. "Even if he thinks something's fishy, there's no way Big Greg can know our secret, right?"
Jack shook his head as he stepped down from the podium and crossed the stage with Charlotte. "Don't worry. That's not what he's after," he said.
Having Jack tell her not to worry about it calmed Charlotte's nerves some, but he still seemed so worked up. Charlotte could see Jack replaying the debate in his head as they crossed the stage. "What do you m—" she asked, cutting off when they reached Lauren.
Jack pulled his campaign manager aside. "Find the woman from the audience, and find me someone who can get her a decent job. Start calli
ng our supporters if you have to. How many tech CEOs have written us checks? Find someone who can use her help. Just make it happen," he said.
"Is that realistic?" Lauren asked.
"What the hell are we doing this for if we can't help the people who need us?" Jack asked. "Besides, they'll be happy to put a face on the job creating they're doing around here."
"I'll get on it as soon as we're done here," Lauren said. "Meanwhile, I need you for two minutes."
"That's fine," Charlotte said, "I'll take the chance to run to the bathroom."
As she made her way down the hall, Charlotte saw Big Greg leaning against a wall, talking to a reporter. Charlotte tried to look away as she passed, but she couldn't help but overhear what Greg was saying.
"How long have the two of them been married?" he said. "I'm just saying a famous bachelor like that… He's been in quite a few relationships. If you dig a little deeper, I think you might be surprised at what a nice smile and a family fortune can cover up." He looked over and locked his eyes on Charlotte. "Evening Mrs. Coburn," he said.
Charlotte almost looked over his shoulder to see if he was talking to someone else. For all the press attention she and Jack had received, for everything she felt towards him, she still didn't feel like Mrs. Coburn. She nodded and rushed past him, catching the last bit of his conversation as she headed into the restroom.
"You have to ask yourself, after all," Greg intoned deeply, "doesn't it all seem too good to be true?"
Charlotte's fists tightened at her sides. She didn't like the idea of her husband's opponent poking around in their lives, she didn't like him siccing reporters after them, and most of all, she didn't like that Big Greg's nasty rhetorical was the same question she hadn't been able to get out of her mind since the honeymoon.
And it was a question she still couldn't answer.
Chapter 27
That night, they stayed in Jack's house in Boston, an imposing brownstone on historic Beacon Hill. One side of the house overlooked the gold dome of the State House, and the other featured views that stretched clear across the Charles River to the lights of Cambridge.
