Page 38 of Bi-Partisan

“Jamie Montgomery,” I supply. Then, before she even has the chance to bring up the photos or anything else about our news scandal, I continue on. “I’m not sure how much help he’ll be with DC funding, but perhaps he knows someone who could help.”

Kelly sighs in relief. “Honestly, even if he just knows someone who knows someone, that would be an enormous help. Otherwise, I’m afraid this intake center will never get off the ground.”

“I’ll ask him,” I promise.

“Thank you,” she says sincerely, then she looks at her watch. “Okay, well, unfortunately, I have to run to meet up with the fosters taking Pumpernickel. Will you be able to hold him until I can come back with them?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Great, thank you!” She gives me a wave, then quickly turns and rushes out the door.

Once she’s gone, I glare at Casey.

He simply grins and takes a sip of his sugar coma beverage. “What? Jamie said that he owes you a favor. Oh, and now you can kill two birds with one stone—ask for his help with the rescue intake center and invite him to your birthday.”

“Okay, you know what? I can’t deal with this right now. I have to go back to work,” I say as I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“Yeah, I probably should, too,” he says, pushing off the counter. “Enjoy your coffee.”

“Thanks,” I grumble. With Pumpernickel’s file tucked under my arm, I grab the coffee off the counter, then reach around to grab Sophie’s, too, so I can put it in the fridge for her. Once I’m in the break room, I take a moment to drain the last of my coffee, then pull my phone out of my scrub pocket to draft a quick text to Jamie before heading to the exam room to look at Pumpernickel.

Chapter 13

Jamie

Song: Stay With Me – Sam Smith

When I get through my apartment door, I drop my keys on the dining room table and throw my coat over the back of a chair. I glance at the couch, the heavily worn but comfortable cushions calling my name after being in a train seat for most of the day. But I know if I sit down, I probably won’t get up again, and I still have things to do. After my conversation with Adrian last night, I realized that I have been doing a terrible job of taking care of myself. Mina’s been telling me that for the past month, but the assessment hits a little differently coming from a person who barely knows me. If Adrian noticed, then it must be bad. So I need a reset, starting with getting my messy apartment under control.

But first, I should probably check in with him. I got a text from him earlier while I was on the train, but Ben, Mina, and I were deep in a strategy session, so I didn’t have time to see what it was about. I dig through my laptop bag to find my personal phone, then grab my suitcase and head back toward my bedroom as I open my messages.

Adrian Wilks

Mar 16, 10:53 AM

Hey so I remember you said that if there was anything you could do for me in return for helping you all I had to do was ask. Is that offer still on the table?

I let go of the suitcase handle and leave it in the middle of the room to respond.

Mar 16, 6:40 PM

Hey sorry I was on the train almost all day today and haven’t had a lot of time to check my personal phone.

Of course the offer is still on the table. What do you need?

Actually can I call?

Yeah, sure

After dialing, I wedge the phone between my shoulder and my ear so I can lug my suitcase onto the bed. The line rings three times before he picks up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, darlin’,” I say, letting the pet name roll off my tongue because I can’t help myself. I know it affects him, even if I’m not there to see it. It makes me feel better about the fact that the moment I hear his voice, it’s like a slight weight lifts off my chest. I’m beginning to think he possesses some sort of magic because every time I’ve either seen or talked to him since That Night, as I’ve come to think of it, my reaction has basically been the same. Maybe six weeks worth of video and phone calls aren’t enough of a sample size to draw a conclusion off of, but it’s not like this is a science experiment. Besides, I’m not even going to pretend that I was any good at science, even if it was one. But even when he texts me, I can’t help smiling a little, so I think it’s a pretty good theory.

Well, it’s a solid theory. I’m not sure whether my fake boyfriend having this kind of effect on me is a good thing. It probably means I’m getting too attached, but I can’t help it. My mom has always said I have a big heart. I’ve always made friends quickly, fallen in love a little too easily, which is why I’ve never been a one-night-stand person. But it’ll be fine. Probably.

As I predicted, he’s silent for a moment, then he clears his throat. “How was the train?”

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