“But I was just ahead by two.”
She takes a sip of her iced coffee. “You were, but both results are within the margin of error, so really, all this tells us is that it’s tight. And Mitchell gave a speech at a charity event, which got him some good press.”
“Oh, God, what did he say this time?” I groan.
“Nothing new, but he doubled down on his whole ‘Montgomery doesn’t have anything tying him to this district. I’m from here. My family lives here. My opponent spends all his time in Washington going to clubs.’ nonsense.” She rolls her eyes.
“My family is in that district, too,” I argue. “I’m from there. My parents are there. And I haven’t been back to that club in months! Yes, I spend a lot of my time in Washington, but that’s because I’m already in Congress. I’m fighting for laws that will better the people in my district.”
“I know that, and your supporters know that. But the people in the middle are easily swayed.” She pauses with a grimace. “But also, that isn’t the kind of family he was talking about.”
“So this is about Adrian.” I scowl. “God, this is so fucking frustrating. People like Mitchell are exactly why spending more of my time in DC is more appealing in the first place! He’s just hiding his homophobia behind southern passive aggression. How the fuck am I supposed to fight against that without looking defensive?”
“You can’t, at least not directly.”
I sigh and take a drink from my iced herbal tea. “So what do I do? Do I go home for a visit? Would that honestly fix things?”
She shrugs. “You’d be surprised. You’ve got the break coming up. It would be smart to spend a good chunk of it back home.”
“Yeah, you’re right. And I was thinking about it,” I admit. “But I was also looking forward to spending some more time with Adrian, especially now that we’ve decided to try this out for real.”
“Bring him,” she says as if it’s simple. “That will look even better to your constituents who are falling for Mitchell’s rhetoric that you’re not serious about family. Nothing says serious like bringing your boyfriend home.”
The idea of bringing Adrian home with me is appealing. Showing him around to all of my favorite places, introducing him to my parents. But I don’t like the idea of using him to rank better in polls.
“How is that any different from what you’ve already been doing?” Mina asks when I say as much out loud.
“It’s not, and that’s my point. If I’m going to convince him that I’m not going anywhere and that he can let me in, I need to make sure he knows I’m not with him because it makes it easier for me to get re-elected, even if that’s how this started out,” I explain.
“Then keep the focus on wanting to show him around your home,” she says, as if it’s really that simple.
“And if he says no?”
“He won’t.”
“He might.”
“Then you go home by yourself. But you won’t know unless you ask.”
It takes about a week before I get the courage to ask Adrian to come home to North Carolina with me. I wanted to have all the details of my campaign schedule for the month figured out before approaching him with it. It took a little arguing with Mina and Ben, but I managed to organize for me to be completely free the long weekend at the beginning of the break—no meetings, no campaigning, nothing. Then that Monday, I have a visit scheduled at Mills Family Farm, a rescue goat farm I helped save from going out of business last year. I figured it would be the perfect campaign trail stop to bring my veterinarian boyfriend to—just a tour of the changes the farm’s been able to make with the grant I helped them get and a photo op with some goats.
But that’s the only one I’m going to ask him to be there for. While Mina had a point that the foundation of my arrangement with Adrian was to use him to save my image, it doesn’t sit right now that we’re actually dating. Plus, even before we became real, I promised him that I would do everything I could to keep him out of the public eye. Posting a few carefully curated pictures on social media and talking about him in my coming out interview is one thing, but parading him around a campaign trail for a week is another. Plus, I don’t want to take him away from work or his fur babies for too long.
Now I just have to see if he agrees to it. I really hope he does, and not because I think a photo of us with some goats would be equal parts good press and adorable. But I want to introduce him to this part of my life. He’s only ever seen the DC version of me—the congressman that works long hours and doesn’t know how to relax. I want him to see the North Carolina me—the Jamie that drives with the windows down, spends Saturdays at the flea market with my mom looking for weird shit, and loves barbecue.
My phone pinging with Adrian’s “I’m here” text pulls me out of my thoughts. I glance around my apartment one last time to make sure everything is in its place, then jog down the stairs to let him in. I unlock and pull the outer door open, grinning once I lay eyes on him, still wearing his teal scrubs from the shift he just finished with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. It’s only been two days since I last saw him for a quick dinner between late meetings, but now I get him all to myself for the next twenty-four hours, and I couldn’t be more happy about it.
“Hey, sweetheart,” I say as I take his hand and pull him inside. The entryway is only barely less swamp-like than outside, so I decide to save a proper hug for once we’re inside the air-conditioned confines of my apartment. But I still lean in for a kiss.
His hand squeezes mine as he sighs against my lips. “Hi,” he murmurs as he pulls away.
“Come on.” I lead him upstairs, then smile as I gesture around the living room. “Welcome to my DC apartment.”
He lets go of my hand and slips off his shoes before venturing further into my open-concept living space. “It looks surprisingly homey for you only being in your first term.”
“That would be my mom,” I say with a small smile. “She and my dad helped me move up here, and she’s big into home decor. She said something about wanting it to remind me of my North Carolina apartment so I wouldn’t get homesick.”
“That was nice of her.” He turns back to face me.