His antennae went up. “Why would you think that?”
“She hasn’t called me in a week and last time she promised to come see me soon.”
He knew his mother and Kat had met while he was holed up in Iraq. “You two talk regularly now?”
She sat down with a cup of coffee and cut herself and Alex a piece of cake, sloshing it onto the plate with an extra scoop of the milk sauce. “We talk once or twice a week, but she hasn’t called for several days now. When are you going to show me the ring you bought her?”
“¡Dios mío, Mama! When did I say I bought her a ring? In fact, when did I ever even say we were serious?”
“Do you think I don’t see how much she loves you, or how much you love her? Mi hijo, why are you running away?”
“Because you have to make sacrifices in life, Mama. You know that better than anyone. I stay with Kat and I lose everything I’ve worked for.”
She gave him a stern look. The one he got when he did something she didn’t like. “And what is that, exactly, Alejandro? What is it that you’re working for?”
“How can you ask me that? You’ve seen how I’ve struggled.” He pushed his plate of tres leches away. “I want to create a family legacy, so my children—your grandchildren—and all the people who come after us aren’t treated like the hired help.”
Turning away, she opened a drawer and threw a newspaper at him. He flinched. It was the local Richmond paper. The front page was a picture of the senator with former governor Lacey and Alex. The three of them were smiling into the camera. Alex didn’t even remember the picture being taken. That whole day had been surreal. He’d gotten through it by taking a lot of deep breaths and keeping his eyes on the prize. On top of playing nice with a man he reviled, he’d gotten a phone call from the chief of staff for the vice presidential nominee, who’d just found out he had terminal cancer. He’d called Alex to say the job was his. If the senator gave him a good recommendation.
“How could you?”
He looked down. “I had no choice, not unless you wanted me to tell the senator our sordid history with this man.”
“Alejandro, you were a sixteen-year-old boy when you told me that I had a choice. You made me see how my decisions affected you, how they shaped you. You made me see that in order to raise the boy I wanted to be proud of, I had to do things differently.”
She jabbed at the paper. “This is not the boy you promised me you’d be.”
He crumpled it in his hand. “What do you expect from me? You think politics is easy? You think at my level I can afford to say no? After everything I’ve done, I should throw it all away?”
“Querido! That is a mistake I have made all my life, believing there is no other way.”
She took his face in her hands, the way she used to when he was a little boy. “You are a good man, one I am proud to call my son. Do what you feel in your heart, not what you fear in your brain.”
He spent the night on the tiny twin bed in his old room. They’d moved here after leaving the governor’s house. It was part of the reason his mother refused to let him upgrade her house. This was the first place she’d felt safe, the first place he’d been able to sleep well at night.
He woke early the next morning, left a note for his mother and drove on autopilot. Despite the fact that he’d been to her house only a couple of times, he knew the way; it was burned in his memory.
Her car was in the driveway. The neighbor’s dog barked when he got out. By the time he got to the front door, it was already opening.
“Ms. Driscoll, hello.”
Kat’s mother looked well, dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt, her hair neatly combed into a bun. Her face showed none of the gauntness he’d seen when they’d first met. “It’s nice to see you, Alex. Is everything all right?”
He hesitated. What if he was wrong? The senator’s attentions seemed to agree with Ms. Driscoll.
“Alex.”
There she was, the woman who had permeated every cell in his body. He stepped closer, wanting to be within touching distance of her, but Emilia stood in between. “Well, I’d better finish packing—today is the big moving day.” The excitement in Emilia’s voice was palpable.
“Can we go get a cup of coffee?”
Kat nodded. “Can you meet me at the coffee shop on Market and Crescent? I have something to give you. I need a few minutes to gather my stuff.”
He was on his second cup of coffee by the time Kat burst through the door. She was wearing jeans and a sleeveless blouse, her hair loose around her shoulders. She carried a backpack and looked more like a college student than a professor. Her face, freshly scrubbed and free of makeup, was one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever seen.
She stopped a foot short of his table.
It took everything he had to keep himself firmly in his seat. He wouldn’t touch her; he’d promised himself he wouldn’t get close. So focused was he on staying seated that he didn’t see her take the last step toward him. She flung her arms around his neck and he froze. The scent of her shampoo teased his nose; the softness of her cheek caressed him. He closed his eyes. “Kat!”
“Don’t push me away, Alex.”
He gently pried her arms off him, unable to look at her. She set down her backpack and sat across from him. They gazed at each other for what seemed like an eternity. She finally spoke. “If you asked me to, Alex, I’d do it for you.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I’ll dress the way Elle taught me, paint my face, host dinner parties. I’ll do the media interviews.”
“I can’t ask you to do that. I don’t want you to change who you are.”
A tear escaped her eye and he longed to kiss it away. “I lashed out at you, Alex. I’m not even sure I want to keep on teaching. This whole summer has changed my perspective. I want to do something meaningful with my life.”
It was tempting, so tempting. He leaned forward. “Kat, I can’t.”
She blinked several times, wiped her cheek then reached into her bag. “I came here to talk to you about something else.” She pulled out a thick sheaf of papers. “This is my manuscript, the book I’m writing on the senator.”
“You’re finished with it already?”
“What can I say—I’m not getting a lot of sleep.”
He picked it up and thumbed through the pages, used to speed-reading a few lines per page to get the gist of a document. Most bills and briefs that came across his desk were large and unwieldy. It was an early survival skill he’d learned. But the words swam before his eyes. He patted the manuscript and nodded. “I’ll try to read it in the next few days and get back to you.”
“You’re not going to like it, and it’ll be published before the election.”
He leaned forward.
“The dean of my school has a connection at Harvard University Press. They’re fast-tracking it.”
He waited for the familiar thunder in his ears, for his muscles to tense up, but nothing came. All he felt was a deep ache in his chest, his body leaden with an overpowering desire to take her in his arms and tell her he didn’t care about any of it; that all he wanted was to have her in his life and in his home. Had he lost his fight?
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“I...I don’t have an excuse. I...”
“You wanted to make sure I wouldn’t stop you.”
Shifting in her chair, she gave him a pleading expression and a weight settled on his heart. What did it matter? So what if the senator lost the election? Was it worth seeing this look in her eyes?
“All that talk about how you hate manipulations—how is this any different?”
She swallowed. What was wrong with him? This wasn’t even his problem now that the senator had taken him off campaign duty. He could let Crista hand
le it. “Did you come out against the bill?”
She nodded. “I tried to see things your way, Alex. I really did.” Motioning toward the manuscript, she flipped it open. “I wrote this chapter two ways, one in support and one against. I included both chapters to show there is no right answer and my analysis is just one opinion.”
In an odd way, he was proud of her. She didn’t compromise her ideals, didn’t sell out or take the easy route. He cringed. It was more courage than he had shown.
“Have you considered what this will do to your father?”
Another tear fell as she nodded. He gripped his coffee cup, glad he’d asked for the ceramic and not the paper one.
“I’m going to give him a copy of this so he knows what’s coming. I can only hope he respects the fact that I’m standing up for my ideals.”
“Even if it means losing your relationship with him.”
She straightened. “There are a lot of things in life I can’t control. My integrity isn’t one of them.”
His stomach bottomed out, leaving him hollow.
He didn’t know how long the silence stretched between them, but she broke it. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
Right. The reason he was here. “Your mom and the senator.”
She pressed her lips together, an expression he’d come to recognize as barely contained anger. He’d thought about a way to tell her without sounding like a complete jerk, even practiced the words, but they escaped him now as he gazed into her clear blue eyes. Worry lines were etched in her forehead. “I’m concerned that the senator might not have thought this marriage through.”
“You think?” she scoffed. Leaning forward, she tapped the table. “It’s a campaign stunt, isn’t it? He’s using my mother. She’ll get hurt and I’ll have to pick up the pieces.”
He didn’t disagree with her, but he also didn’t know how to make it better. “I think he genuinely cares about her, but...”
She waved him off. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already suspect, although I do appreciate the effort. I’ve tried, but I can’t talk her out of it.”
Walk away, Alex. He’d done more than he ever would have before. If the senator found out, Alex could not only kiss his next job goodbye, he’d also be blacklisted. He was putting a lot on the line for Kat, and she’d just admitted she hadn’t been completely honest with him.
“Well, I’d best be going, then.”
“Alex, you drove all this way just to tell me my mother marrying the senator is a bad idea? Come on.”
She was right. Why hadn’t he simply called, emailed, even texted her? His revelation was hardly earth-shattering. He had come for something else. To see the bruises on her arm and know that he was the wrong man for her. With a heavy heart, he brought himself to do the one thing he’d been avoiding. He looked at her arms.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“HAVE YOU READ this manuscript?” Crista screamed in his ear as he shut down his computer for the night. Alex checked his watch. It was past midnight and the caller ID on his phone told him Crista was at the campaign offices.
“It’s late, Crista. Can we discuss this tomorrow? It’s not like it’s hitting the bookshelves right this minute.”
“If this comes out before the election...”
“I know. He’ll never win.”
She sighed. “I can’t believe she did this. And when I asked her not to publish it before November, she flat-out refused. Refused!”
He didn’t expect anything less from Kat. To describe the book as a scathing review of the senator’s policies was an understatement. Kat had shredded him. But she’d done so in a fair manner, legitimately analyzing the weak spots in all of his policies and pointing out the strengths brilliantly against the backdrop of the human cost of the war. It was an unusual political analysis, one written with heart. She even had statistics, no doubt from Captain Atao, on the number of babies that could be saved in Guam and around the world if they left Iraq.
“Did you see the last page?”
Frowning, he unlocked the desk drawer where he’d put the copy Kat had given him. Crista had the scanned version he’d emailed her. He had stopped reading when he got to the references. He flipped to the last page now, which had a handwritten note from Kat.
I’m not afraid of you, Alex.
“Is she taunting us? I just can’t believe it. Here I thought we were friends. She knows how important it is for me to prove myself in this new role.”
“She’s not taunting us, Crista. The note was personal, meant just for me.”
“Are you two still dating?”
He didn’t know how to answer that question. I’m not afraid of you. How could she say that? She’d tried to hide it from him. The hint of a healing bruise on her arm. She’d rubbed makeup on it, but he had seen it with the practiced eye of someone who knew what to look for.
“No, we’re not really on speaking terms.”
“So how do we handle this?”
He took a breath. There was only one way to handle this if he wanted his life back. The life he had before he met Kat, back when he was sane and knew where he was headed professionally.
“We have two options. Option A, we wait until it publishes and then do damage control. Option B is leak it and spin the analysis.” Bitterness filled his mouth.
“Okay, let’s leak it to the media. She won’t give an interview, so the only narrative they’ll hear is from our side. And we can use the fact that she’s against the wedding to create some buzz. It’ll be a lot of press coverage for the senator.”
“Be careful, Crista.”
“At this point, it’s about name recognition. You know that, Alex.” It was common knowledge within campaigns that those who followed an election closely made up their minds months before voting day, after reviewing policy issues and a candidate’s qualifications. The casual voters, those who mainly came out for presidential elections and almost never showed up for local ones, tended to vote along party lines...or for the names they recognized.
Name recognition was now make-or-break for the senator. He was polling within the margin of error with his opponent. The photo op with the former governor, the one that Alex had sold a piece of his soul for, had the intended result of boosting the senator’s numbers. Senator Roberts had kept his promise of getting Alex the job as the vice presidential nominee’s chief of staff. But how far was Alex willing to go? How badly did he want this?
“Discuss it with the senator. The last thing you want is for the strategy to backfire on you.” It was a lame attempt at absolving his guilt, putting it on the senator to protect his daughter. He hung up the phone feeling like he needed a shower. He should warn Kat; he’d made her a promise not to expose her to the media. Stabbing the power button, he tapped his foot as the computer booted up.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Watch your back
Your manuscript is making waves. I suggest you work something out with Crista or else you’ll be facing the media.
—Alex
His finger hovered over the send button. He closed his eyes and took a breath. The bruise on her arm filled his vision. There was no way for him to keep away from Kat. He knew without a doubt that she would pull him back. The only way to make sure he never hurt her again was to drive her away from him. Shifting over to the delete button, he sent the email to the trash.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“THIS IS ONE of the best manuscripts we’ve received in recent history.”
Kat nodded at the jolly old man who was the senior editor at Harvard University Press. True to his promise, Dean Gladstone had gotten her a publishing contract in record time. They were discussing the final details now.
“Normally,
I have pages of edits that need to be made, but aside from some proofing, I think this is ready to go. Now, getting it out before the election is a bit challenging...”
Kat leaned forward. “Sir, if Senator Roberts loses the election, this book will be worthless.”
“Yes, but if he wins...”
“It’s rare to produce a piece of writing that’ll affect a voter’s decision. I wrote this book so that the people of Virginia, those who care to, can make an educated decision. I was critical of the senator’s war policies until I visited Iraq to see the on-the-ground impact of our work there. I truly believe there is no right or wrong side, just an informed one.”
“Dr. Driscoll, have you considered running for Congress?”
She laughed, but stopped when she saw the earnest look in his eyes. “You’re serious?”
“This manuscript—” he stabbed at the thick sheaf of papers in front of him “—it moved a surly old man like me to tears. You have empathy and a strong sense of right and wrong, something I wish more of our leaders had.” He pointed to the newspaper lying on his desk. “Surely you know that the incumbent from your very own district had to resign because of allegations he laundered money. The Democratic Party is in a bit of a scramble trying to find a suitable replacement this close to the election. You already have name recognition. And once this book comes out, you’ll win.”
She stared at the editor. He’s serious! “I’m sure they have a plan, and it does not include the media-shy daughter of a Republican senator.”
He raised his bushy brows then took a card from his desk drawer and slid it toward her. “The DNC chair is a friend of mine. He’ll happily take your call if you want to consider it. Think of it this way—you won’t have to go back to working for Gladstone the bear.”
She stifled a laugh; the nickname fit. It’s a crazy idea. I’d be in the spotlight constantly. She pocketed the card.
“Okay, so if we want this published before the election, our work is cut out for us,” the editor said, moving on to the task at hand.
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