Chapter 166

Together, Miles and I stand and start to head toward the television in the room. We let our hands drift apart as some of the other campaign staff enter the room to watch with us, but I stay close to his side, silently offering whatever comfort and support I can, just from my nearness.

One of the volunteers turns on the television, just as the footage cuts away from a newscaster sitting behind the desk to a big map of the country.

“At this point, we can safely project the winner of the primary election for this party…” the newscaster says, though right now, he’s just a disembodied voice.

Everyone in the room seems to inhale at once, like we are collectively holding our breath.

Suddenly, Miles’s face flashes on the screen. “Representative Miles Hamilton is our projected winner.”

For a split-second, the room is totally silent. Then, all at once, chaos erupts. People in the room start cheering, yet even that isn’t as loud as the roars of applause and cheering coming from the banquet hall.

I turn to Miles, smiling, surprised to find him in a state of shock. He’s still watching the television like he can’t quite believe it, or that he thinks they might take it back.

For all of his confidence, did he truly think he wouldn’t make it this far?

“Congratulations,” I tell him, trying to gently guide him out of his own head and back to this moment.

He looks at me, wonder in his eyes. “We did it,” he says and hugs me.

As tight as he’s holding me, no one really seems to notice or care. After all, most everyone else in the room is laughing and cheering and holding each other.

“Thank you, Esther,” he whispers to me. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Sure you could,” I tell him. “I didn’t even join your campaign until the last minute. You were well on your way to success before I ever entered the picture.”

“No,” he says. “I wasn’t.”

I don’t believe him but it’s a nice sentiment none the less. So I hug him a little tighter, before I have to let him go.

“You have a big speech to give,” I say.

He laughs a little. “I guess I do.”

He gives me one last look, before he turns away from me and is swallowed by his crowd of supporters.

I imagine, if I keep being with Miles that it will always be like this. I’ll have a private part of him, but most of himself he has to share with others.

Honestly, I don’t truly mind. Miles is so wonderful, the world deserves to know him. The voters of his party could see how great he is, so now he’s going to be on the ticket for the general election. With his party’s support, he has a real chance to win.

As the youngest candidate to enter the presidential race, he’s already breaking boundaries. If he wins, it will be like entering a whole new world of hope.

I can’t wait to see it.

Miles steps out of the side room. I don’t follow him, instead choosing to stay behind.

I hear the moment he enters the banquet hall, because the entire building shakes with the roar of cheering and applause.

When Miles gives his acceptance speech, I watch it on television, not trusting myself to see it in person. Even with the filter of a television screen in the way, and even having proofread the speech half a dozen times, I still tear up a little listening to Miles give it.

“Together, we can move forward to build a better America for ourselves and for our children, and our children’s children.”

Any nervousness he showed me in private is long gone now. He speaks proudly and confidently, as if he never had any question that he might win.

I feel special, having seen the truth. Like I’ve been let in on a secret. One that I plan to keep with me, selfishly, until the day that I die.

Eventually, I go out into the banquet hall, but not until after Miles has given his speech. By now, he’s mingling with the crowd, and the entire event has started to turn into a jovial party, with the stress of the election lifted.

We still have a long way to go. The fight for the general election will be a tough one.

But that’s a problem for tomorrow. For tonight, everyone – especially Miles – deserves a night of celebration.

Around two in the morning, when most of the crowd has left, I step into an elevator to head to my hotel room. Even though this rally is in DC, we anticipated that no one would want or be in a state of being able to drive home, so we and the other Hamilton supporters rented out most, if not all, of the hotel.

The elevator doors start to close, when a hand reaches out, catching and stopping them.

“Have a goodnight!” Miles calls to someone down the hall, before stepping into the elevator with me. He watches me, a twinkle in his eye, as he presses the button for his floor and the elevator doors start to close again.

The moment the doors shut, we both move at once, springing toward each other, mouth first.

As our lips meet, my arms wrap around him and his around mine.

I don’t know whose tongue dips into whose mouth first. It’s all a tangled blur of lips and hands and tongues and some alcohol too, as well as the high of the victory.

We pull ourselves apart as the elevator reaches the floor of his room. My room is on the floor above.

One heated look from him to me, and I know that I’m not going to be sleeping alone tonight. He doesn’t even have to say anything as he steps out of the elevator. I simply step out with him and follow along behind him.

At his hotel door, he uses his key and unlocks the door. He holds it open for me. After he enters behind me, we both wait until the door closes before we pounce again.

Our clothes go flying as we trip over ourselves on the way to the bed.

There’s chilled champagne near the mini-fridge, but we have no time for that. Not with how badly we want each other.

We topple down onto the bed, and don’t leave it again for hours later.

In the morning, as the sun creeps through the curtains, I am sore from exertion but also happy and sated. Miles lies beside me, his arms and legs thrown over me, cuddling me like a big sexy octopus. He’s equal parts adorable and handsome in his sleep, his features all evened out.

I could watch him forever, but first I have to go to the bathroom.

On my way back from the bathroom, I stop in the separate living room to turn on the television. Returning to Miles is incredibly tempting, but so is hearing the media praise him for all of his successes. I’m just going to take a peek before I head back to bed.

Yet, when I turn on the television, I nearly drop the remote.

The news anchor is covering the other party, who had their own primary election. Apparently, there’s been a massive upset, with a new candidate shooting up nearly overnight.

I hadn’t seen this man recently, I had no idea he was running.

But he is no stranger to me.

Seeing him again, my whole body fills with fear.