“Well, see, that’s the thing.” He approached her chair with deliberate slowness. “I started up to my room and couldn’t help but see your light on. And wouldn’t you know, at the edge of your patio my ache started to disappear.” He moved in toward her and kissed her with a sweet passion that felt as new and sexy as the Colombian air.
“Isn’t that remarkable?” She kissed him back. “So I suppose you’ll need to eat somewhere?”
“I suppose I’ll need to eat here. You up for company?”
Landon sat down and Olivia poured him part of her punch.
“So what was the thought going on in there before I interrupted?” He leaned over and tapped his finger lightly on her head.
“Actually I was just thinking I was happy by myself.”
“Ouch.” He pulled away from her with fabricated concern.
“No, no,” she said to reassure him, “not like that. Obviously I’m much happier with you here.”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
“I just mean I was happy sitting with myself, which I don’t think I’ve ever been before.”
“That makes sense,” he said. “You’ve come into your own. Once you get to a point of knowing yourself on a deeper level it’s easier to be alone without being lonely.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, then paused gratefully. “It’s amazing how you do that.”
“Do what?”
“You add reason to my words. It’s why I just say what comes to mind. I don’t have to do all the thinking, because you understand before I even explain.”
“It helps that your words are always knee-deep in reason.”
“No, they are not!”
“Olivia,” he said with a serious sincerity, “for as much as you know yourself, and I believe you do, there’s so much beauty and intelligence that you miss about yourself.”
Olivia was more than flustered; she was a bit in awe. Whatever insecurities she had now melted away in his words. “You know, you actually make me believe that. You make me feel smarter and more beautiful than I have ever felt.”
He looked at ease with the thoughts that she viewed as so raw and vulnerable.
“That’s what love is, Liv. It’s seeing the true beauty of someone and loving them enough to help them see it. That’s why real love brings out the best in people. It amplifies the best part of who they are.”
There it was. The L-word. He had said it at least three times with such simple honesty.
Olivia put down her glass and stared at him across the table. The sun had gone down and the sky behind him was perfectly dark. The stone wall around the patio now seemed to glow with glistening gold. The breeze blew his hair just a bit but was barely strong enough to move a napkin. She gulped, feeling a dryness in her mouth that seemed to be the result of her breath being taken away.
“I love you, Landon,” she said, her voice shaking with vulnerable truth. He looked up at her, almost unaware of the impact of what he had said. Without a word he stood and took her hand.
“Come with me.” He led her a few steps off the patio to the rocky beach.
“Where are we going?”
“Just come.”
Olivia followed, glad at least not to be stuck in the susceptible silence of the table. As they stepped from the rocks onto a small sand path, Landon started running, grasping her hand tightly. They sprinted out across the sand, Olivia feeling the perfect coolness underfoot and exhilarated at the idea of running with no clue where she was going. He could take her anywhere. Just before they reached the water, they came to a small hut built into one of the rocks. It had two massage tables in the middle and huge vases of orchids lining the inside walls. Olivia recognized them from the tour the ambassador had taken them on the day before. “Our national flower, the orchid Cattleya trianae,” Maria Teresa had explained. “I was married to Raj among thousands of them.”
As Olivia had listened, imagining herself and Landon surrounded by the gorgeous purple of the flower, he had inconspicuously grabbed her hand. Just for a moment. And now, here they were. Together—alone—among the orchids. Just as she had imagined. Landon led her in, still gripping her hand. As they stood almost enclosed in the rocks, the water crashed up against the shore, each wave feeling like it extended into a rush inside her. The smell of the salt water mixed with the lavender of the massage oils ever present in the enclave.
“I love you, Liv. I love you like I’ve never loved anyone.”
When his arms fell down around her, her eyes closed tightly. It was as if the world completely disappeared.
SIXTEEN
Jacob sat at the bar of the Iowa hotel as he watched the hands on the clock tick toward ten p.m. The nondescript bar was empty, save for the three tourist-type women who looked as if they had been invited to an ugly-sweater party. They carefully sipped their cosmos and fawned over the bartender, who was supposed to be getting the drinks that Jacob had ordered. Jacob agonized, feeling like he did the morning he had to take his SATs. Impending doom, he thought, knowing that either way this went, it wouldn’t be good. He’d thought about confronting the governor and Olivia all the way home from Cartagena and then for the week since, but he had decided for sure to ask the question after he saw Olivia walk out of that elevator bank earlier that morning.
He cursed Maggie for bringing the idea of Landon and Olivia up at all, wishing he could go back to what he now recognized as his oblivion. Maybe if it hadn’t been in the back of his head he wouldn’t have noticed the voices coming from Olivia’s room when they got back from the ambassador’s dinner. He wouldn’t have caught a glimpse of Landon grabbing Olivia’s hand while they walked through that stupid flower museum. He looked over at the elevator banks, remembering Olivia walking out of the wrong one that morning, nearly fifteen hours ago. He shook his head, trying to get the affirming image out, knowing he needed to get the truth. He tried to play out in his head how it would go.
He knew he was supposed to want the answer to be “It is not happening,” doesn’t read “It is happening” so he could walk away from the campaign out of principle. The truth, though, was that he knew it was happening and he wanted to help. To calm, contain, and control. If the affair and maybe even love were confirmed, Jacob could help them conceal it, and would do a better job than they were doing. I’m going to help someone have an affair? What kind of person does that? I’m an accomplice. His mind flashed to Aubrey. He couldn’t even imagine what she would do if she found out. She’d kill him. And me for helping it happen. Then he rethought it. It’s not like she’s not doing the same thing. What if she knows? What if she knows about Taylor and he knows about her? What if they have a deal? Ugh. That’s worse.
He ordered a shot of tequila, needing more time to process the ideas, even in his own head. How could he want to help them? How could he want to cover up lies? Landon Taylor—one of the good guys. And Olivia. My hire. My friend. All of them have been lying about everything. Fatally. This could kill us all. He thought about Aubrey’s temper again. Literally.
He waved to the bartender, who was flirting with the sweater-clad women even more raucously. “One more shot, please.” He had downed the first one as soon as he got it.
He’s a good politician, Jacob told himself, and there’s too much at stake. He thought of how much the world had changed for the worse under the current leadership and how Jacob’s decisions, his actions, could keep that administration in power. Even though it seemed morally incongruous, he wasn’t ready to risk that. This wasn’t just his job. This was his country. Resolute in that, he took a swig of his tequila, grabbed the two glasses of wine, and headed upstairs.
He stood at the door, drinks in hand, and looked at the number. This was it. The moment he would accuse his boss, his hero, of cheating with one of his best friends. And putting the fate of the country in the balance. He hesitated. He closed his eyes.
The door opened the second Jacob knocked. The governor stood without his shoes on, seeming shorter. His hair hung a little
over his eyes. We need to schedule a haircut, Jacob thought, and then scolded himself for contemplating a detail like that at a time like this.
“What’s this you need to talk about?” the governor asked.
“Could I come in?”
“Of course. Wow. Sounds serious.”
The governor pulled the door open and walked to a chair by the window, the one that made his room a suite. Jacob followed, wishing he had brought the bottle of tequila with him. Jacob put the wine-glasses on the table and sat down on the bed. “I don’t know how to say this,” he said.
“Spit it out. When have you ever had a problem saying anything?”
Jacob looked at the governor. What did he hope to see? Does the governor look nervous? Like something is weighing on his mind? Does he need my help? “Governor, are you having an affair with Olivia?”
The governor looked at him angrily. “What?!”
This was not the reaction Jacob had practiced for. Why didn’t I think he might be angry? He had prepared for laughter if it wasn’t true, sadness if it was, maybe even anxiety.
Instead, the governor lunged forward in his chair.
I’m right to be bringing this up, Jacob reminded himself. He needs my help. I’m the one to tell him not to get on that flight.
“Gov.” Jacob searched for a shred of their old friendship somewhere in Taylor’s eyes. “It’s okay. I know you are. I want—”
“Jacob.” The governor sat back more slowly and in a calmer fashion, but he was looking away. “That’s ridiculous.”
“I—”
“Please. We’ve had long days. You’re tired. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Gov, I saw her coming out of the elevator bank this morning. And the Post had a rumor of it that I shot down.”
The governor crossed his legs and his arms. “Since when do you base your knowledge on Post rumors? Whose team are you on?”
“Gov,” he pleaded, knowing he shouldn’t have mentioned the Post. He tried to catch the governor’s eyes. He can’t look me in the eye. Damn it. He’s lying.
“Jacob, this is stupid. Olivia dropped off a copy of the budget this morning. I’m sure that is when you saw her.”
This was not the answer Jacob wanted on so many levels. It was spin. Landon’s spin.
He stood up. “Okay, boss.” He wanted to be careful not to apologize or agree. If I have to be on the outside at least he’s going to know I know. “You asked me to step up once. You said you needed me to be in control. I was just trying to do that.”
“I said step up, not step out.” The governor stood too, still avoiding eye contact. “Just try to do your job, Jacob.” He tried to take the edge off in a way that had the opposite effect. Scratching the back of his head, he walked to the door and opened it. “You’re doing great. Just keep your eye on the ball. I still need you.”
“Right.” Jacob looked at him squarely in the eye. He was infuriated. And crushed. “It’s a good thing, you know, because you and Mrs. Taylor have such a special relationship. I mean, I was worried about her and Secretary Tiwali, but I was probably just as wrong in that case. Eye on the ball from now on.”
“Okay.” The Governor looked as pale and worried as Jacob had wanted him to be at the beginning of the conversation. Jacob hadn’t wanted to resort to something so passive-aggressive but it just came out. That was more aggressive than passive anyway, he thought.
“Step it up,” Jacob mumbled to himself as the door closed behind him.
Waking up had rarely been so excruciating. Olivia tried to reach for her BlackBerry to silence the annoying alarm that was trying to alert her to the fact that it was ten after six, but her arms felt as if they had been weighed down with dumbbells. Mono of the arms. She turned over, flapping her right wrist down off the side of the bed, attempting to talk her muscles into moving. The knowledge that there was no time in the foreseeable future to catch up on the missing hours of sleep made it even harder to succumb to the day’s start. She remembered her brother telling her she lived every day like it was Wednesday, equally far from and to the weekend. He couldn’t have been more right.
She pushed on the remote and the familiar voices of CNN started to register as she slowly forced her obstinate eyes to open. Six eighteen. Okay, I’ll just sleep until six twenty-five. Who am I kidding? I won’t wake back up in . . . How many minutes is that? Oh God, I can’t do simple math anymore. Seven minutes. What difference is seven minutes going to make?
She looked begrudgingly at the clock. Six minutes. The figures on TV started to come into focus. Aubrey and Landon. The reporter pointed to the IHOP where the “perfect power couple” was having breakfast. Good morning to me.
She rolled off to the side, feeling as if she were leaving her long-distance lover, and took her BlackBerry into her hand, aware that even it seemed heavy this morning.
She scrolled down through the twelve new messages, angry at the fact that there could be twelve new messages between the hours of two and six, and even angrier that none of them were red messages from Landon. It had been three weeks since Cartagena, also known, to no one but her, as the Best Four Days of Her Life. Life since then had changed drastically.
She hated to admit it, but the amount of work she had missed while away, as Jacob predicted, had taken an intense toll on the fundraising efforts. Two events had been dropped completely because the hosts had not heard from her, and the host committee for their New York gala event hadn’t come together as it should have. This would undoubtedly leave an irreparable budget hole.
Getting into the shower, she felt her head spin. With every drop of water she seemed to remember a new thing to do. Fearing her memory would fail her, she leaned out, wiped off her hand, and typed notes into her BlackBerry. She tried to focus on the notes and the growing fundraising hole, but undermining everything was the wrenching feeling that her relationship with the love of her life, the one that had seemed to hit a peak of perfection just twenty-two days ago, was disappearing before her eyes.
She hadn’t heard from Landon in three days. She thought nothing of it when she didn’t hear from him the first twenty-five hours after they returned, but then his pins started to come in more sporadically. He had taken her on the trip to Iowa, but since then it had been nothing but bad news. No I-love-yous. Barely even a “sweet dreams.” Back and forth in her mind she swerved, trying to play it cool, then wondering if everything was okay, and on and on. Last weekend he’d canceled his trip to New York with a Sorry, Jacob says too many morning shows pin. When she replied with a Disappointed, he sent: Thinking about you, and you know what they say, it’s the thought that counts. She tried, as she had been doing since they returned, to figure out what had gone wrong.
Every time she spoke to her sister she longed to seek her advice. Surely someone would know what to do. But the secrets she had kept for months had walled her in isolation. The real shift, she decided as she entered her office, came when Aubrey decided to travel with him. She was everywhere, at the speeches, the dinners. And worse, when the Taylors were on the road and Olivia was back home, Olivia could count on each newspaper and TV channel to bring her a live feed of Aubrey and Landon’s every move. Olivia knew Landon had to have been part of the decision to have Aubrey travel more. It felt like a dagger to the heart. And that made Olivia feel even guiltier. She reminded herself painfully that she was the dagger, not Aubrey. It was Aubrey’s relationship she was ruining, not the other way around.
What am I doing? He should be with her, not me. These thoughts were repeatedly interspersed with the chiding ones that screamed at her for her overdramatization. So he’s not writing you every minute or calling? He’s running for president. He has a few other things on his mind.
Neither of these theories, nor the hundreds of other guilt-ridden, self-deprecating ones, did anything to alleviate the fact that she felt as if a jackhammer were going off in the middle of her chest. She tried to focus on the job ahead. With six weeks to go, she still ne
eded to bring in seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
When she saw his number flashing on her BlackBerry that evening, she answered with irritation. “Hey, stranger,” she said.
“Hey, babe.” The sound of exasperation in his voice made her regret the way she had answered.
“You okay?”
“I gotta tell you, babe, I am tired. And I got this cold.”
He sounded hoarse. Of course he hasn’t called, he’s sick!
“A cold? That sucks. You sound terrible. Sorry.” It was so annoyingly hard to stay angry with him.
As he spoke about Iowa, Georgia, and New Hampshire, she couldn’t help but feel glad to be included, to feel like she still had a piece of him.
“Landon,” she said somewhat weakly as they neared the end of the conversation, “I miss you.”
“Oh, baby,” he replied. It sounded like reciprocal longing. “You don’t know how much I miss you. I cannot wait to be back in that bed of yours. I’m coming in for the shows on Sunday.”
“Can you come Saturday night?” She hated sounding needy but she wanted him there.
“I can’t, baby. I have this thing.” Olivia hated the sound of the excuse, not only because he wasn’t making the same effort he used to make to be by her side, but also because he was being vague about the reason, and the only other times she remembered vagueness escaping his lips was when he was talking to someone else about time he was spending with her. She hated knowing how easy it was for him to lie.
“Okay,” she said, conceding, “see you Sunday then?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He added in a “Love you, babe” quickly. She hung up the phone, only minimally aware of how far out on a lonely limb she was hanging. She held her pillow close to her chest, fragile enough to feel comforted that the person she shared her secret with at least remembered there was a secret to share.
By the time Sunday came, Olivia was on her last nerve and his pin worked it further.
Domestic Affairs Page 28
