Page 39 of Bi-Partisan

“Long and exhausting,” I say with a heavy sigh. “Travel days always feel that way, especially when I take the train instead of driving. But since Ben, Mina, and I had to come back to DC on a weekday, we opted to take the train so we could do some work, and the day wouldn’t be a waste.”

“Wait, did you just say driving was less exhausting than taking the train?” he asks.

I chuckle. “Yeah, that probably sounds backwards. But I love driving. It calms me. Anytime I’m behind the wheel, it forces me to take a break from the constant multi-tasking and hustling that my life normally consists of now.”

“I am the complete opposite. Driving stresses me out to no end. That’s partially why I moved back to DC after vet school—so I could get rid of my car.”

“Wait, you don’t have a car?” I ask as I unpack my suitcase and sort my clothes because the first task on my life reset is laundry—which I admit I haven’t properly done in well over two months.

“God, no,” he says, sounding almost flabbergasted. “Do you know how difficult parking is in this city? Well, I guess you do, since you have a car. But there’s also the almost predatory speed and red light cameras.”

“Predatory?” I ask, trying to cover my laugh.

“Yes, the streets here are basically designed so that unless you have the streets perfectly memorized, it’s almost impossible to get anywhere without getting some sort of ticket. Whether it’s for speeding because they speed limit changed but the sign was in a completely inconvenient spot, or accidentally running a red light because you can’t tell which fucking intersection the light is actually for.”

This time I can’t help the laugh that escapes.

“You’re laughing at me,” he deadpans, although there’s a hint of vulnerability behind it.

“No,” I say quickly, then amend it. “Okay, a little, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard you rant about anything before, or curse, for that matter. You’re cute when you’re all worked up.”

“Oh,” he says.

And if I’m not mistaken, he sounds a little pleased, so I decide to push my luck. “Although, I think you’re cute most of the time, if I’m being honest.”

There’s a brief pause, then his voice comes out, almost like a warning. “Jamie—”

Okay, yeah, maybe that was too much. “Anyway, you said you had a favor for me?”

“Yeah.” Another pause. “So, there’s an animal rescue that I volunteer with—District Pets.”

Of course he volunteers with an animal rescue—because he couldn’t just be hot and smart. He has to have a heart of gold, too. I’m fake dating a damn Disney prince. To be fair, that was probably already evident by him agreeing to help me get through this scandal when he hardly knows me, but this just takes the cake.

“I adopted Joseph and Molly through them,” he continues. “They rescue animals from unfit homes and either overcrowded or high-kill shelters all over the DC, Maryland, and Virginia area, and sometimes even into West Virginia and North Carolina. They’re a non-profit and run almost exclusively on donations and through volunteers.”

“Like you,” I say as I gather the pile of dirty clothes I don’t need to have dry-cleaned and carry them into the hall where my laundry closet is. “What do you do for them? I assume you’re not a foster since you have two cats of your own.”

“No, I’m not. I know myself, and I would never have the heart to give a cat up once I bonded with them.” He chuckles.

A soft smile creeps onto my face. Yup, Disney prince. God, I think I’m fucked.

“I originally applied to volunteer as a record and invoice admin, but when they realized I’m a vet, we struck up a different deal where any foster families in the area can come to the clinic, and I would take on the responsibility of inputting the visit summary, invoices, and test results into the rescue’s system.”

“Is it hard seeing the animals when they’ve first been rescued?” I ask tentatively. It has nothing to do with the favor he has to ask me, but he’s being more forthcoming than usual and I’ll be damned if I’m not going take advantage of that and try to get him to open up to me a little more. “I imagine some of them might be in bad shape depending on where they came from.”

He hums. “Sometimes, but it’s also really fulfilling being able to help them. Usually I have Sophie assist me. She has this way of calming animals—if I believed in magic, that’s what I’d call it.”

“Well, you said she’s into crystals and stuff, right? So maybe it is magic,” I say.

“Maybe,” he says.

“So, what favor do you need for the shelter?” I ask when he falls silent.

“Well, the thing is, I’m not really sure if you even can help, but I said I’d ask just in case. So, the rescue has been trying to establish an intake and processing center—somewhere we can temporarily keep animals when we’ve picked them up, fosters can pick up new pets, and potential adopters can do a meet and greet with animals. We’ve been trying to raise money, but most of the donations we get go toward the animals. There was this grant with the city we were trying to get, but it got denied, so it looks like it might never happen.

“Like I said, I’m not sure if you can really do anything seeing as it’s not your district, but I was hoping you might know someone who could help. Maybe someone with the city. Or someone who knows someone with the city. Or even if there’s maybe some federal grant we could apply for. But if not, I understand.”

He says it all in a rush, and I can tell he’s nervous about asking—not that he has any reason to be. I told him I’d do whatever he wanted as long as it didn’t violate the congressional code of ethics. When I offered it, I’d expected something a little more self-serving, like a tour of the White House, even though technically that would have to go through his own representative. His nervousness is endearing on its own, but him using his favor to do something completely selfless has my heart clenching.

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