Chapter 159

Breathing hard, it takes me a moment to collect myself and answer, “What is it?”

“I have those reports you asked for,” says a voice through the door.

Rubbing my forehead with my hand, I call back, “I’m in a meeting right now. I’ll collect them after.”

“Okay!” says the voice, and then footsteps sound away from my door.

Miles looks up at the ceiling as he heaves a great sigh. “The first thing I’m doing as soon as I step foot out of here is assigning you a secretary.”

I didn’t think it was necessary at first, wanting an open door policy, but now I see the benefits. “That would be lovely, thanks.”

With this scare and the new space between us, some of the earlier passion ebbs.

“We really should be more professional in the office,” I say.

“Probably,” Miles agrees. “Though it’s difficult not to kiss you when I can.”

I smile a little, despite myself. I’m supposed to be chastising him. Instead, I find myself amused. “We’ll have plenty of time for that later.”

“Oh?” Miles asks, suddenly much more chipper. “No kids tonight?”

“They’re at Garnar’s,” I say.

“You can expect me, then,” he replies.

I blush. “Get out of here and let me get some work done.”

With a salute, he heads toward the door. “Yes, ma’am.”

After Miles leaves, I call the volunteer with the reports back into my office. Combing through them, I start to see some troubling things.

With the breakup, Miles’s numbers in the polls took a small dive. They’ve been flagging in the two weeks since.

Though, going back farther, it seems that Miles’s numbers have first dipped after our initial split. Thinking back, I remember how he reserved he was then. The people really just need a chance to see him again as he usually is: happy and excited by the prospect of leading the country.

No one wants to vote for a twenty-five year old who seems like the life has already been beat out of him.

Placing a notepad on my desk, I write down, Needs to be happier. That shouldn’t be too hard, now. Maintaining Miles’s happiness has already become one of my personal responsibilities. I’ve been more than pleased to take on that burden.

I’ve been downright satisfied.

An improvement in Miles’s mood will help, but that’s not all he needs. With the primary elections coming up, where Miles will be on the ballot to win the endorsement of his party, we need to be prepared. Not only that, we need something of an attack plan.

I think for a moment, then check a few other papers.

There’s a phone on my desk. I glance at it, and then at the supporter list.

If we had the right endorsement…

Using the supporter list, I lift the phone and call Selena.

When she answers, she is reserved, likely not recognizing the number. “Who is this?”

“It’s Esther,” I say. “I’m calling from Miles’s campaign headquarters.”

Immediately she brightens. “Oh, Esther. You scared me for a minute there. I thought it might be another reporter. They are such a nuisance. Uh… no offense.”

“I’m not a reporter anymore.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Selena says. “I heard you finally accepted Miles’s offer. Good for you. Well, good for you both. You’re doing good work. I saw a speech of his last night, and he’s already more charismatic. Happier.”

“Today’s my first day,” I tell her. I can’t take the credit for his bright mood from the night before.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “You simply being in his life again is enough to lift his spirits. I did tell you it would.”

I don’t remember that exact conversation.

“He loves you, Esther. He’s better with you in his life.”

The L-word is a big bomb to drop. I’m certainly not ready for it, and I suspect, Miles isn’t either. Our relationship can’t have progressed that far.

Yes, I can admit that we mean more to each other than a casual fling. But love?

I don’t believe it.

“I have a favor to ask,” I tell Selena, abruptly changing the subject. I suspect some pushback, but she just hums, as if waiting for me to continue.

“Since your split with Miles, the numbers haven’t been kind.”

“We suspected that might happened,” Selena says. “We thought my taking the blame might soften the blow.”

“It might have,” I admit. The numbers could have been worse had Miles been the one to break up with Selena. “But it still isn’t great.”

“Okay. How can I help?”

I have a big ask, and I know it’s a big ask. But I’m hoping Selena is a good enough friend to Miles – and has garnered enough contributions to her causes – that she might be generous.

“We’re going on a campaign trail soon,” I say. “Visiting a few towns so Miles can make speeches.” I glance at the travel itinerary also on my desk. “I’m hoping you might consider joining us. Not for the whole tour, just a few stops. If you could come out in a show of support for Miles, it could ease some of the unkind feelings a breakup might have caused.”

“I’m happy to help,” Selena says. After a beat, she adds, “Can I wear a t-shirt promoting my charity?”

“You can wear whatever you want,” I tell her, relieved.

“Then count me in.”

“I’ll send you the itinerary,” I tell her.

“Great. Listen, you keep making Miles happy, and I’m sure everything’s going to be fine.”

I blush harder, heat warming my cheeks. “I’ll do my best.”

Ending the call, I let one of the assistants know to add Selena to our travel arrangements, then I head to Miles’s office to confirm with him.

His office is the largest of the lot, which makes sense. It’s large enough to hold a sofa as well as his desk. He has a television mounted to the wall. Looking at it, he’s leaning against the edge of the desk. The television is muted, but it’s showing the news.

When he sees me, he says, “Close the door.”

I give him a flat look. Didn’t I just tell him that we need to be more professional?

“It’s not what you think,” Miles says. “I just have something really important to discuss with my campaign manager.”

Eyeing him with suspicion, I close the door behind me and then walk toward him. I stop in the middle of the room, a respectable distance from him.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Come closer,” he says.

I take a step forward. “Miles.”

“Closer,” he says.

This is starting to feel like a game, which only makes me further doubt the sincerity of his needing to talk to me alone.

“Miles,” I say again, more forcefully.

“Closer,” he says again. The corner of his lip quirks up.

I really shouldn’t, but I step even closer as he directs. Now, I’m so close, I’m practically in his lap.

Maybe I don’t mind this game so much.

“What did you want to talk about?” I ask.

He places his hands onto my hips like they belong there. They do.

Leaning in, he brushes his lips against mine. “Oh. About that. I lied,” he says, and kisses me in earnest.

Pulling back, I swat him on the arm playfully.

“Primaries are coming up, Miles. We have to take this seriously.”

“I am,” he insists, kissing me again.

I fall into him for now, but later, I’ll be more insistent.

The primaries are the first major hurdle Miles has to face on his road to the presidency.

It he loses, it’s game over.