“So over the next few months,” Owen says, “my team, my family and I will continue to kick the tires and see how far this should go.”
The students start chanting, “ALL THE WAY! ALL THE WAY!”
Owen smiles and holds up his hand to quiet the crowd so he can land the plane.
“There’s a lot ahead,” he says. “We hope soon to herald in a new era of politics in this, our great nation. Tonight, though, we’re heralding a new year. Grab a glass of champagne and find the ones you want to be closest to. I’ll be back in a few minutes to count in another great year. Thank you again for coming.”
I search the crowded room for Maxim, finding him still leaning on the wall with his arms folded, the ambassador’s daughter stuck to his side like flypaper. My hands ball into fists, my fingernails digging into my palms.
“Just staring,” Kimba says from beside me, “won’t get him.”
I didn’t even notice her come up, I was so fixated on them.
“What?” I drag my eyes away from the two glamorous people across the room, him a dark contrast to her fairness. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Come on, Lenn,” Kimba says, her usual no-nonsense tone somewhat gentled. “This is your girl. Talk to me.”
For a moment, I plan to ignore the frank sympathy in my best friend’s eyes, to tough it out and pretend I’m not in the midst of some kind of existential crisis, but I’m tired of holding this armor in place. It’s slipping anyway.
“He asked for another chance,” I say after a pause. “Maxim, he said he was young and stupid and made a mistake before. He asked me to forgive him.”
Kimba nods slowly, dipping her head to catch my lowered eyes. “And have you forgiven him?”
My laugh comes quick and hollow. “Well, yeah. I guess somewhere along the way, I did.”
“Praise Jesus. I was gonna give you ’til the end of this campaign, honey, and then smack some sense into you.”
“That won’t be necessary. At least, I don’t think so.” I glance across the room where he stands with the Russian princess. “If he’s even still interested.”
“Oh, he’s interested.” Kimba follows my stare. “He’s a patient man.”
“Not really,” I say with a laugh. “Quite the opposite, but he’s trying.”
“Then why keep him waiting? Talk to him. Tell him tonight.”
I glance at my watch. “The toast is in ten minutes.”
“The hard part is over for now. Owen’ll come back and do the countdown and then the New Year’s Eve toast.”
“And then the CNN interview,” I remind her.
She rolls her eyes up to Millie’s glittering chandelier and expels a lengthy sigh. “Screw it. I’ll do the interview.”
I press the back of my hand to her forehead.
“What are you doing?” she asks, her expression puzzled.
“Checking for fever.”
Her laugh is hearty. “You better go get that man before I change my mind.”
“You sure?”
“Girl, what’d I say?”
“Thank you.” I smile and loop my arms around her neck. “Happy New Year.”
I draw a deep breath and cross the room toward Maxim, growing more confident with each step. It seems to take forever, but finally I’m standing right in front of him. He glances up, his posture indolent, his hands in his pockets, but his eyes are sharp and questioning.
I don’t look at the beautiful blonde standing next to him, but address him directly.
“How do I get rid of her?” I ask, borrowing his question about Wallace that day in the coffee shop.
She gasps and then chuckles, surprising me into glancing at her. She really is exquisite. Her brown eyes are amused, not offended, and her smile is natural and blinding.
Maxim tips his head to the side, watching me. “Katya, could you give us a minute?”
“Of course,” Katya says, her accent thick and sexy. “Also, I told you. I knew what I was doing.”
Conversations continue around us, but we stare at each other for seconds that stretch into a minute.
“What did she mean?” I finally ask. “When she said she knew what she was doing?”
A small smile crooks his full lips. “She thought I should make you jealous.”
“Why would she . . . how does she know me?”
“She doesn’t.” He sketches a casual shrug with his broad shoulders. “She wanted to suck my dick and I said no.”
My teeth clench and I swallow around the painful lump in my throat. “Why’d you say no?”
“Because I don’t want anyone sucking my dick but you.”
My eyes snap up to meet his, and they’re completely serious. There’s no sign of humor. “Is there somewhere we can talk?” I ask.
“The garden.” He tips his head toward a large set of French doors. “Through there.”
I nod, and he pushes off the wall, grabs my hand, and leads me across the room and through the door. I hope the press of bodies hides our clasped hands. I don’t need any rumors getting started, or to field dumb questions from snoopy journalists bored with politics and looking for more.
Once outside, we’re swallowed by shadows. He’s just an intimidating silhouette. I’d know the shape of him, his scent anywhere, but what do I really know about this man asking me to trust him on a new adventure? One that risks not just something of his, but of mine?
My heart.
He pulls me deeper into the garden until a tall hedge of bushes shelters us on every side. We’ve entered a maze of sorts and continue a few yards more until we reach a small stone bench. He sits and leans back, supporting his weight with his hands flattened on the bench and his arms stretched straight.
“Talk to me, Nix,” he says, watching my face closely in the moonlight. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
I blink at the sudden hot wetness behind my eyes.
I’m afraid.
I want to tell him that I can face down Dobermans and tear gas and rubber bullets at a protest. I can give speeches broadcast to hundreds of thousands of people without a second thought. I can lead a team to elect governors and maybe even a president. But the thought of trusting him with so much of myself . . . again, scares me.
“Wallace and I aren’t together.” I start with the easiest of the things I need to say.
Maxim’s brows lift and a satisfied grin spreads across his handsome face. “When did this happen?”
“Oh, about three months after we got together.” I pause for impact. “Almost ten years ago.”
His smile disappears. “Excuse me? But you said . . . you lied to me?”
“Not exactly,” I say, my voice offering no apology. “I did what you did. I let you believe what you wanted about the truth.”
“The hell I did that. What do you mean?”
“I did start dating him the year I graduated from college. I just left out that we only lasted three months.”
“You two still seem extremely close. Why didn’t it work out?”
“We are the best of friends.” I chuckle. “You’ll laugh at this. I told him it was like having sex with my foster step-cousin.”