I massaged my forehead. “And what is this supposed reality?”
“You started this relationship to get to me, to my campaign. To learn insider secrets. That’s why your mother invited Lucy to live there in the first place—to set me up.”
And I’d thought Lucia was paranoid. Jesus! “How dare you cheapen what Luz and I have. You’re the politician, not me. I care for her.”
“What’d you call my daughter?” His eyebrows pinched together.
I paused. “Luz.”
“You know the meaning of the word?”
I stared at him, trying to figure out his angle. What was he accusing me of now?
“Luz means light,” he finally said.
“I know.” I nodded. “Su hija es…brillante.”
His face changed, either from surprise that I spoke Spanish or that I’d called his daughter brilliant.
“Yes, espléndida,” I added. She’s splendid. Stunning. Adolf didn’t speak, so I soldiered ahead. “Listen, believe what you want, but Luz and I know what’s between us. And it’s not some bullshit political maneuver. She’s the only reason I’m surviving this damn election, and I think she’d say the same about me. Our relationship isn’t something you can make disappear with a unilateral snap of your fingers. She deserves better than that. We’re both adults now—free to make our own decisions, maybe our own mistakes—but that’s our call, as adults.”
When he finally spoke, his voice had lost its edge. “Your mother approves of your relationship with Lucia?”
I sighed. “She’s concerned we’re too different to make it work.”
He chuckled as he shook his head. “Finally something the senator and I agree on.” He hesitated. “And your father? What does he think of this?”
I looked at my shoes, wanting to hide my reaction to the mention of my father. “He doesn’t know.”
“Where was he when your mother found out?”
I said nothing, just listened to the tick of the clock as I rubbed a scuff on my dress shoes.
“Off talking to his mistress?”
My head shot up as I sucked in a gasp. Fuck! Realizing I’d just confirmed Adolf’s suspicions, I closed my mouth and swallowed. “I-I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re a worse liar than your mother.” He looked away and scoffed. “And I guess that makes you slightly more trustworthy.” When he looked at me again, there seemed to be a hint of kindness in his eyes. “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything to the press.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to win that way, Dane. That’s not the campaign I want to run. I love this country, and I want to help, but I promised my wife I wouldn’t lose my soul to win office. My integrity’s not for sale.”
Whoa. His expression was so fierce that I believed every word. “Where’d you find out about my dad?”
“I hear things.” He shrugged. “I make sure to get the information I need. It’s why I asked Agent Vanderberg to look after Lucy.”
Ah. That’s how he’d found out about us—Frank had snitched. Asshole.
“It’s unfortunate how your father has treated your family,” he continued. “But this is yet another reason I don’t want my daughter with you. What kind of values have you learned in your family, given what your father has done?”
I saw red. “It’s not fair to compare me to my father!”
“That’s not my goal here. My goal’s to protect Lucy.”
“But you think I’m not good enough.”
His mouth pressed into a line. “Nobody’s good enough for my brillante daughter. You should know that already.”
He had a point.
“I need to talk to Lucia’s mother, think this through some more. You and Lucy together…well, it’s shocked me, and I need to give this time to settle.” He shook his head. “One thing I do know: I’m moving Lucia out of that house. I should’ve known better than to let her live there with a college boy. I was your age once—I know where your brain is.”
When he glared at my crotch, my penis twitched.
“Keep that thing away from my daughter, Mr. Monroe.”
His exit was swift, and my mortification complete. Why oh why did I have to fall for a crazy man’s daughter?
Chapter 25
SHOULD HENRIETTA LACKS’S FAMILY be compensated for the use of her cells in science? Why or why not? Do you believe the Lackses deserve health insurance even if they can’t afford it? How would you respond if you were in their situation?
This English paper prompt was killing me. The blank document on my laptop stared up at me, glaring white in the soft lamplight of Dane’s bedroom. Darkness encroached earlier now that it was November, and the mornings were already colder than Texas winters. It had even threatened to snow on Halloween, which had (of course) been another non-event in our frantic lives. I’d dressed as a volleyball player. Ha ha.
My paper was due on Election Day—just two days away—and I’d barely recovered from the debate a few days ago. Just to get something on paper, I typed:
I hope the Lackses feel proud that Henrietta’s cells have helped so many. If it’s possible for hospitals or researchers to compensate her family monetarily, I support that. But I don’t believe people deserve health insurance or other benefits simply for living in America. I believe we have to work for health insurance. For example, I’m writing this stupid paper to further my stupid education so that I can get a stupid job with stupid health insurance.
Somehow I didn’t think my TA would give this an A.
From where I sat on Dane’s bed, my back leaning against the wall, I had merely to raise my eyes from the blank screen and I could rest them on a more welcome sight: six-foot-eight of muscle and sexy folded into an office chair. The only time he stilled was when he studied, and I could watch him for hours. Realizing my dad would follow through soon on his threat to move me out of the greenhouse, I figured I’d better take advantage of Dane Time right now. The assignment could wait.
He’d angled his chair catty-corner to the desk so he could extend his mile-long legs, and the black chair tilted back as he curled his socked feet over the bar connecting the legs of his computer desk. He frowned as he drew the iPad closer to his face, then a smile broke through. “Cooool.”
“What?”
He set his feet down and spun his chair toward me, his eyes alight. “We’re learning about booze in my psychopharm class. Did you know there’s nothing you can do to speed up getting sober?”
“I thought coffee was supposed to help.”
“Nope—all that’ll give you is a hyper drunk person.” He grinned. “Your blood alcohol concentration increases with each drink, depending on various factors. But alcohol leaves your system at a constant rate—point zero one five each hour—regardless of coffee, showering, exercising, whatever. It takes a really long time for your body to process the alcohol.” He pointed to a colorful electronic chart. “You see this? You could go to bed with a BAC of point two and think you’re hungover the next morning, when in fact you’re still drunk!”
He was so cute when something excited him. “You should share your newfound knowledge with Dr. Valentine. Maybe she’d give you extra credit.”
“Ugh.” He wrinkled his nose as he jettisoned the iPad to his desk. “This just became uncool.”
I laughed.
“You had your session yesterday with her, right?” When I nodded, he asked, “How’d it go?”
“Um…” I sighed. “We discussed election night—playing the match or being with my family in Texas.”
“Haven’t decided yet?”
“Nope.” A knot tightened in my stomach.
“Your family expects you to be there?”
“Yep.”
“But your team expects you to be here.”
“That about sums it up.” I clutched fistfuls of my hair as my body tensed.
“Sounds like an impossible decision.” His foot extended to rub my knee. “But I know
you’ll do the right thing.”
“Which is?”
His mouth curled into a condescending smile. “If Valentine won’t tell you, I won’t either.”
I shoved his foot off the bed. “So how did your session go?”
His smile faded, and he looked down. “Nothing too exciting.” He shrugged. “Family stuff.”
Why had he become evasive? And not just about therapy—there was something else he’d been hiding, too. “You’re keeping secrets from me.”
He looked up. “What’s that?”
“Nina talked to me in the locker room after practice tonight.”
He blinked as he drew back from me.
“Now I know why she’s setting me again. You spoke to her. Smoothed things over.”
He nodded.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to drag you into this mess more than I already have. It was my problem, so I had to fix it.” His jaw tightened. “I’m sorry my stupidity affected your volleyball career.”
“It’s not your fault Nina’s unstable.”
A scoffing sound erupted from his throat.
“Did you know she actually apologized to me?”
His chin dipped. “No way.”
“Not only that, but she said we’re kind of cute together.”
“Nina said that?”
“I know.” I grinned. “I couldn’t believe it either.”
“Cute, huh?” He glanced at the open bedroom door—a rule my father had established, and Frank had enforced. Then he leaned forward, and I inhaled a little puff of air when his hand brushed my hair behind my ear. “You are damn cute, that’s for sure.”
My heart jumped a beat at his warm touch. “One thing Nina said was kind of strange. You, ah, you told her I was praying for her?”
He stole his hand back. “Does that bother you?”
“No.” I shrugged. “It’s true—I was. I am. It’s just…I guess I’m kind of surprised you told her that. Were you guys…?” I bit my lower lip as my cheeks warmed. “Were you making fun of me?”
“No!” His eyes opened wide, and he lunged for my hands. “I may not understand your beliefs, your faith, but I won’t mock them anymore, I promise.” He swallowed as he stroked my fingers. “I told Nina you were praying for us because I thought it was such a sweet, forgiving thing to do—so like you. I guess I wanted to show Nina all that you are, and all that she’s not.”
I nodded, though it was difficult to believe I was better than Nina at anything.
“I’m grateful you pray for us, Luz. Your faith is so strong…it’s, it’s kind of beautiful, really. I wish I could feel that way about something.”
Wow. I just fell for him a little bit more.
He lured me forward, and he kept holding my hands while his thumb swirled circles on the inside of my knee. Sparks of delight traveled up my thigh. “I’m not the only one keeping secrets, Luz.”
“¿Qué?” My mind didn’t function well at the moment.
“I’ve been trying to work out why you didn’t tell me this, but I got nothing. You asked Phil to keep me on the team?”
“Oh.” I came back to earth. “He told you about that.” I hoped Dane didn’t think I’d interfered with his life.
“Yes. Why’d you do it?”
“I wanted to thank you for helping me, you know, after the photo in the paper.” His eyes clouded over with apparent anger, probably remembering my she-beast photo. “And because…” I waited until his gaze cleared. “Because you’re such a talented setter—I didn’t want that to go to waste. I’ve never hit better than the night we played. You brought out the best in me.”
His eyes glittered as he rolled his chair to the edge of the bed and tugged me forward, away from the wall. He drew our hands together, close to his heart, and his face came inches from mine. “That’s the kindest thing anyone’s ever done for me. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought you’d be mad.” When his eyebrows lowered, I added, “It seemed like no matter what I did, you got mad at me.”
He groaned. “Asshole, party of one.”
“Stop beating yourself up. You eventually saw the light.”
The corner of his mouth perked up. “Yes, I did, Luz.”
And I did, too.
His face nudged in, and I closed the distance by touching my lips to his. His hard mouth molded over mine, and he let go of my hands to cradle my head. With my chest folded over my legs and the excitement pulsing through my bloodstream, I felt breathless. Our position must not have been to his liking, either, because he launched himself from his chair to the bed with one swift push off his feet.
We found our way into each other’s arms so easily that it felt like we’d been together for years. But I didn’t feel good about the possibility of Frank walking in on us. “This open-door policy’s stupid.” I scooted down the bed and extended my foot to shove the door shut.
“Very naughty, Luz.” His grin stretched wide. “GD approves.”
But Governor Ramirez doesn’t. I pushed down my concern as I slid my way back up the bed. We lay on our sides, facing each other. His hand lowered to my thigh and rubbed from my hip to my knee in long strokes. He watched me shiver, and his eyes darkened. His face had lost some of its tan since August, making him look even more like the All-American boy he was. He was my gringo. I felt so warm and loved in his arms.
I traced the raised ridge of skin above his right eye. “How’d you get this scar?”
“Guatemala.” He shook his head. “I never told you that story?”
“When were you in Guatemala?”
“One summer in high school. My family went there on a cross-cultural trip—a humanitarian mission. We helped build a well, some houses, that kind of thing.”
I smiled. “That’s where you learned to speak español.”
“Sí, cariña.” He smiled back.
“So…” The bumpy scar fascinated my fingers. “You were building a house, and got hit by a dos-por-quatro?”
He chuckled as he grazed his fingertips up the inside of my arm. I closed my eyes to savor his touch. “No two-by-fours were involved. But a piece of pipe, yeah.”
My eyes flew open. “What happened?”
“I was being a hothead, as usual.” He grimaced. “Jess was only twelve, maybe thirteen, and the creepy locals kept staring at her.”
“The first rubia they’d seen?”
He pointed to his short blond hair. “Yeah. They stared at me, too, but not in the same lecherous way. I confronted one villager about it—we’d only been there a few days and my Spanish sucked—and I inadvertently insulted his mother or something. He came at me with a busted pipe.”
I gasped.
“Do you know how much a cut on your face bleeds?”
I shuddered as I pictured blood dripping down his face. “One time, a club teammate broke her nose when the ball smashed her face.” I cringed. “Blood everywhere.”
“Exactly. My dad was off painting in the mountains, and my mom freaked when she saw all that blood. At first she was screaming for the guy to be arrested, but then our translator got involved and explained I’d insulted the villager in the worst way possible—basically, I was lucky to be alive. Upside of the story: I became motivated to learn Spanish like never before.”
His eyes smiled at me, and I kissed the jagged skin on his forehead.
“Then I love this scar,” I said. “It represents your love for your sister. You were just trying to protect her. You were helping people.”
“Sure botched that one. I bet the villagers were happy to see us go.”
I gazed into his eyes. “I would never be happy to see you go.” And I’m praying I don’t have to. “You said you wished you felt deep faith in something. Don’t you see? You have deep convictions. You help people. You love your family.”
His head dipped. “My family’s not…close like yours.”
He looked so sad! “Maybe that’s a good thing? Your mom
isn’t trying to break us up like my dad is.”
“Your dad’s a good man, though.”
I pulled back with shock. “Dane Monroe.” I pressed the back of my hand to his forehead. “Are you feeling okay?” When he didn’t smile, I dropped my attempt to joke with him. “Hey.” I skimmed my fingertips over his collarbone. “Are you okay?”
“You asked me what I talk about with Dr. Valentine.” He closed his eyes as he let out a long breath. Then he rolled onto his back and covered his face with his palms. “My parents don’t love each other. My dad’s having an affair.”
¡Dios mio! That would destroy me. I didn’t know what to say, but when Dane’s big hands slid down his face so he could see my reaction, I knew I had to come up with something. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry.” I inched closer, and when he nodded, I climbed onto him and snuggled in so that my ear rested on his chest. “When did you find out?”
“Right before Beergate.”
Ah. That made a lot more sense.
“I couldn’t tell anyone, ’cause of the election.”
I lifted my head. “I won’t tell, I promise. I won’t tell my dad.”
Dane stroked my hair. “He already knows.”
“What?”
“He found out from Secret Service or something. He said he would keep it private because he didn’t want to run a dirty campaign.”
Pride swelled in my heart. But Dane’s expression seemed more like one of shame than pride.
“Your dad said I’m not good for you—I haven’t had proper role models.”
“Well, that was mean.”
“He’s right.” Dane grimaced. “Dr. Valentine said I have a fear of intimacy because of my parents’ relationship. It’s probably why I pushed you away so much.”
“You’re not pushing me away now.” I kissed his cheek. “And my parents’ marriage might be fine, but Alex drives me and Matty nuts with his bossiness. No family’s perfect.”
He blinked up at me, seeming to weigh my words. “My dad has really hurt my mom with all of this. I just worry about her, you know?”
“I don’t. She’s a badass.” He arched his eyebrows, and I laughed. “It’s true! Running for president as a woman? That’s amazing. And she’s so beautiful, I’m sure she’ll find another guy who’s even better—”
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