“Do it,” she breathed. Startled, he looked up, caught her eyes. Caught her reading him like a book, all those things he thought he kept so secret.
“Touch me.”
Without thought he put his hand to her stomach, that button, the small curve of her tummy beneath it. And then both of his hands were on her, his arms around her. His body finding those places on hers where they fit, somehow. Where all their edges didn’t clash or cut. Where their unlikely softness found an answering softness.
She kissed him. Or maybe he kissed her; he didn’t know. They kissed. Carefully. Like they’d never kissed before. It was their first kiss here, in the middle of their messy reality. She tasted like mint tea and Chapstick and something strong and bittersweet.
He wrapped his arms around her back and picked her up, just lifted her off her feet, because despite the size of her spirit, and her attack, and her bravery, she was actually quite small. He kept forgetting that. Kept forgetting that she was tiny. And pregnant.
With his baby. And suddenly, thinking about the baby while holding her in his arms—that changed things. That changed everything. He’d been alienated for a very long time, and now he wanted to be welcomed in.
“I don’t know how to ask for things,” he said. “Real things. I mean, my parents didn’t exactly support that kind of behavior.”
“You’re a grown man, Harrison.”
“That only makes it harder.”
She hummed, kissed his throat.
“You just open your mouth and ask, I suppose,” she said.
“I don’t want you to stay here,” he said, pulling away to see her face, flushed and beautiful. Soft and rounder than she’d been just a few weeks ago. But her eyes were sharp. “I want you to come with me. I want to watch your body change and go to doctor’s appointments. I want to be there when the baby is born.”
“Then I’ll come with you,” she whispered, and kissed him while he carried her into his bedroom.
Their clothes fell off without any effort on their part and when he laid her down on the bed, it didn’t feel like his bed, like the place he’d spent so many lonely nights. It felt new.
She was soft and supple under his hands and he found himself obsessed with learning the edges of her, her exact perimeters. The curves at her breasts, her hips, the tops of her thighs. Her belly. The span of her rib cage, the circumference of her wrists, the distance between her chin and collarbone.
The exact beats per minute of her heart against his.
And then, that belly, its upward arch, the downward slope, the tautness of the skin just under her belly button.
“It’s changed,” she breathed as he pressed kisses there. “It’s round.”
It’s beautiful. So beautiful.
He rolled her to her side, cradling her against his chest, his arms wrapped around her.
Pressing his forehead against her shoulder, he prayed for strength or softness or a sign that this was the right thing and that he could keep doing the right thing. That he was strong enough to be the man he wanted to be with her.
“Please,” she whispered pushing against him.
That was all the sign he needed. With a groan, he entered her from behind.
And it was lazy. And sweet. And new.
But also familiar in the most perfect way.
Like they’d been doing this all along.
She cried out, burying her face in the pillow. Her breasts in his hands trembled as she shook and after a moment, after she laughed and blew her hair out of her face, she reached for him, rolling to her stomach and pulling him up onto her back.
He thrust into her, into that hot, clinging welcome, and he felt her thrusting back, meeting him halfway. More than halfway.
It was the most honest and giving thing he’d been a part of.
And it felt so damn good to be a part of it.
It felt so damn good to lie there with her in his arms, sticking to each other as sweat dried on their bodies.
“Why are you called Ryan?” he asked. It was late, but neither of them seemed inclined toward sleep, as if reluctant to let this go.
“They thought I was going to be a boy and so they only picked out a boy name.”
“It didn’t matter that you were a girl?”
“Dad said it would make me tough.”
He laughed against her shoulder. They were spooned, her back to his chest, and he was tracing the outside edges of her tattoo with his fingers. Every once in a while she would flinch away.
“Ticklish?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Tell me about your tattoo,” he said, tracing the woman’s blissed-out face. “It’s really beautiful.”
“It’s Ophelia.” She rolled farther onto her stomach so he could see the whole thing. The flowers and the gauzy dress floating around her. The flowers around her feet, twining up her leg.
“Hamlet’s Ophelia?”
“She’s drowning in the river.”
“Dying for love?”
“I got it after my divorce.”
A reminder. She didn’t have to say it. He leaned forward and kissed the vines dragging Ophelia to her watery death.
“I’m not him,” he felt compelled to say.
“I know.
“I went to see your mother yesterday,” she said after a while.
“Why?”
“The Paul thing. She was looking for him so she could pay him to be silent.”
“That sounds like my mother.”
“She loves your father. Or did, at one point.”
He pushed his face into her hair, unwilling to think of how much pain that kind of love must cause.
“Is there a way to do this,” she whispered, “so we don’t turn out like them?”
“Of course.” He wrapped his arms around her, willing it to be true.
And then she turned in his arms, kissing his lips, wrapping her arms around him, drowning him in a different kind of love.
Chapter 24
The phone ringing beside the bed woke her up.
Seven a.m.
Harrison had left an hour ago, pressing a kiss to her forehead and telling her he’d see her later. She’d tried to get him to get back into bed with her, but he’d laughed and urged her to sleep. Which she’d done immediately.
She fumbled for the phone, knocking over the clock and a glass of water.
“Hello?” she croaked when she finally got the phone in her hand.
“Ryan?” It was Wallace and something in his voice made her sit up. “We need you. Get down here as soon as you can.”
Twenty minutes later she was on her way to the office, feeling slightly like Lip Girl to the rescue.
We need you, were seriously heady words.
Her body was still warm in the memory of last night, in all the things that she and Harrison had said to each other and all the things they hadn’t yet. This unlikely relationship had become even more surprising and she didn’t even bother to stop herself as she tipped back again into love.
She got out of the car and walked into the office where she was met with a solid wall of anxiety. Everyone was staring at their computer or phone, watching something on the screen.
Her stomach dropped into her shoes.
Paul. It had to be Paul.
This wasn’t Lip Girl to the rescue. Lip Girl doesn’t save the day, she ruins the politician. That’s how this story goes.
“Is it Paul?” She asked, convinced that on every single screen it would be her ex-husband, smarmy and awful, spouting horrible lies, or even worse truths, about her.
“Worse,” Wallace said, looking twenty years older. His skin ashy, his eyes dull. It was Wallace, defeated. Harrison came up behind him, his golden patina rubbed down to steel.
“What could possibly be worse?” she asked.
“Heidi,” Harrison said. “She’s given an interview about all of it. The money. The baby. The affair. All of it.”
Her head buzzed. Impossible, she thoug
ht. That’s impossible.
But of course it wasn’t.
It was just like opening the door expecting to see a terrible storm raging, and instead finding a nuclear holocaust.
“How bad is it?” she asked.
“As bad as it can be,” Harrison said. “It’s over.”
“What’s over?” she asked.
“The campaign,” Harrison said. “Maybe my career.”
“Don’t say that!” she cried.
“You haven’t seen it, Ryan,” he sighed. “It’s bad.”
“Then show me the video. Let me see how bad it is.”
The men, like machines that had just stopped, didn’t move and so she walked past them to Harrison’s office. “Come on,” she said, forcing them to follow her. She stood at the door and let them walk in past her and then she closed the door behind her. The roar of the outer office turned to a hum through the wood.
Her stomach ached and her hands were sweating but she kept her cool. Someone had to. Someone had to have perspective. Wallace walked around Harrison’s desk and opened his laptop. “So, the interview was aired on WSB and WAGA, and Glendale is already putting up some television spots, talking about the ad. He did a radio interview with Scott Slade this morning, and I’m sure there will be more to come.” Wallace clicked around on the laptop but she was watching Harrison who stood by the window in a sheet of early sunlight, hair sparkling, eyes stern, his arms crossed over his chest. They’d made love last night. Slow and steady, his arms around her. They told each other secrets. The lovely, innocent ones that stitched them closer with affection and delight.
It was not perfect between them by any stretch. But it was honest and real.
And worth fighting for.
He was worth fighting for.
She just needed to convince him of that.
“Here you go,” Wallace said and flipped the laptop to face her. Harrison turned to stare out the window and she wondered how many times he’d watched this footage. How sick he must feel.
Bracing herself she turned toward the screen.
A woman about her age, wearing a dark winter coat, stepped up to a microphone held by a person off camera. Wind kicked up and blew blond hair across her face, which she pushed away with a mittened hand. Behind her was a ranch-style house surrounded by a dry, yellow winter lawn filled with kids’ toys and Mother Mary in a bathtub altar. Mary was kind of tipped over, leaning against the tub, having a rest.
“Go ahead,” a voice said offscreen. “Just repeat what you told me.”
“It’s Maynard!” Ryan said, and she turned to see if Harrison recognized the voice, but he had no reaction.
“When I was twenty-five, I worked as an intern for the Montgomery family during Governor Montgomery’s vice-presidential campaign. In that time …” Heidi glanced up at the camera and Ryan saw this woman’s pain from years ago, fossilized by years and plans gone wrong. Maynard had unearthed all that emotion, and Heidi was furious and ready for revenge. “I had an affair with Ted Montgomery.”
Harrison sighed and put his hand against the window as if his legs were losing strength.
“Our sexual relationship resulted in a pregnancy. Ted Montgomery drove me home one night. He was drunk and we were in an accident. I broke four ribs, my arm, I was unconscious for three days, and when I woke up I found out I had lost the baby. At that time, Patty Montgomery offered to pay all my medical bills and more on top of that to go home and never mention my relationship with the Montgomerys.”
“And you agreed?” Maynard asked. Was it Ryan’s imagination or did he sound triumphant?
“I didn’t have any insurance. My parents would have had to sell the farm. I … I didn’t have a choice.”
“Is there something you would like to tell the Montgomerys or the voters of Georgia?”
She looked dead center in the camera. “The voters of Georgia need to know the kind of people they’re electing. Harrison Montgomery knew what his parents did and he let it happen.”
“Oh my God,” she groaned, and stumbled back into one of the chairs in front of Harrison’s desk. The leather was hot from the sun pouring in the windows and she barely felt it burn the skin on the back of her legs. “Can’t we sue her or something?”
“It’s the truth,” Harrison said.
“What about Maynard?”
“He was just doing his job,” Harrison said. “And pretty well, too. No one else has found Heidi.”
“So what do we do?” she asked, stunned to see these two powerful, intelligent men so defeated. “Do we get out there and tell people how she lied to you? How you didn’t know about the baby or the affair until it was all too late?”
“What’s the point?” Harrison asked.
“The point is your campaign! Your honor. Your … our future.” Oh God, she suddenly realized in a whole new way what Patty meant by keeping Harrison focused.
And then she realized that Patty would never get a chance to be the woman she could have been. She’d never have a chance to hold an office because of all the mistakes she’d made for her husband.
There was a terrible lesson in there.
“The point is you, Harrison.”
Harrison shrugged, as if none of it mattered. As if there weren’t something bigger at stake. “We concede.”
Wallace nodded.
Ryan wanted to tear out her hair.
“These are your parent’s mistakes, Harrison!” she cried. “Not yours.”
“You heard what she said,” he countered. “I knew about it. I have known about all of it, and I’ve done nothing but keep the family secrets. I’m just as guilty as they are.”
There was a knock at the door and Harrison yelled, “Go away!” just as Ryan opened it.
It was Noelle, her hair back in that bun, her eyes serious behind her glasses.
Wallace sighed. “If you’re here to tell us how pissed off Patty—”
“No,” Noelle said. “I’m not here for Patty, though she’s a mess. I swear her head about spun around. Ted’s already drinking. It’s kind of a shit show at the mansion. I’m here because I have an idea,” Noelle said.
“Come on in.” Ryan opened the door wide. “We need ideas.”
“We need to do a press conference and give a statement. Like ten minutes ago.”
“That’s hardly an idea,” Wallace criticized, and Noelle’s cheeks turned red. “The same bullshit press conference voters have seen from every politician in a scandal, with the contrite hand wringing and the dutiful spouse—”
“That’s where we flip it.” Noelle turned and pointed to Ryan. “Ryan. We get Ryan to address this. She gives the statement, Harrison answers questions.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Harrison muttered, but Wallace didn’t jump in with his agreement and Harrison turned to look at his manager with horrified eyes.
“No, it’s not,” Wallace said, the light coming back on behind his eyes.
“She’s kind of a press darling,” Noelle said.
“This is a great idea. A great idea,” Wallace said, and started spinning into action calling reporters.
“You’re not listening to me,” Harrison said. “I’m not going to let Ryan stand up there and tell any more lies!”
“I won’t lie,” she said. “We’ll come clean. We’ll come totally clean. Oh my God, Harrison, think of how good this will feel.”
“And it might not work,” Wallace said. “But it will set you up for the future.”
“The future,” he scoffed, and turned around again.
Ryan approached Harrison at the window.
He was staring down at a woman pushing a stroller across the street, a baby’s black curls, like dandelion fluff, visible past the side of the sun visor.
“This isn’t your fault,” she said.
“I knew this was going to happen,” he said. “At some point, this was inevitable. Secrets don’t stay secret forever.”
“I told you, you should have 8-Miled it,” she said, t
rying to make a joke.
“I’m so sorry you’re in this.”
“I’m not,” she said, and he rolled his eyes toward her. “I’m not sorry at all.”
He looked at her, really looked at her. And she realized how she’d gotten used to his gravitas; what had made him stand out in that bar among the lesser men had grown commonplace. Which made it impossible to doubt him when he said, “You will be. It’s going to get worse.”
Within the hour they managed to get the press conference put together and Harrison’s campaign office was once again full of reporters. Ryan stood at the podium, Harrison at her side, and had a serious case of déjà vu.
And just like before, the second she was done with her prepared statement, reporters’ hands shot up.
“Harrison, did you know what your parents did?” asked Agnes, a woman she’d grown to like a little over the last few weeks.
Harrison stepped forward. “I was twenty-two at the time,” he said. “I understood that my father and Heidi had an affair and that my mother was paying Heidi money to leave and not say anything.”
“Did you know about the pregnancy?” Agnes asked.
Ryan squeezed Harrison’s hand, urging him to just tell the whole truth. Harrison had decided that because Heidi hadn’t brought up the affair the two of them had, he wouldn’t either. Which Ryan had thought was pretty generous, but Harrison had been adamant that the scandal was scandalous enough.
Which was more than true.
“I wish I could say I didn’t, but I did,” he answered. “The way my sister and I grew up wasn’t by any stretch normal. And there wasn’t room in our lives for us to have opinions. We served the campaigns and other than that, we were quiet. It’s ugly as I look back on it, and obviously my sister learned far faster than I did to be her own woman. I’m still trying to understand what my parents did and why. And I know that’s not a great answer, but it’s the one I have.”
“What about your marriage, Harrison?” Maynard, standing in the corner looking smug and exhausted, drew the attention of everyone in the room. “Is Ryan pregnant?”
“That’s a private matter between my wife and me,” Harrison said.
“Don’t you think your family has lied to the people of this state enough?” Maynard shot back.
Indecent Proposal (Boys of Bishop) Page 25
