Page 74 of Bi-Partisan

“Okay, good to go,” he says, screwing the cap back on his pill keychain.

“Are you sure you’re okay to eat barbecue? Couldn’t it trigger your reflux?” I ask carefully, not wanting to overstep or seem controlling.

“I’m usually fine, but that’s why I took an antacid. Now come on!”

He climbs out of the car, and I sigh before following suit. That wasn’t exactly the answer I was hoping for, but I don’t want to push it and make him mad at me. I’ll just have to pay attention and hope I can eventually convince him to take it more seriously.

The restaurant is a fast casual kind of place with a counter you order at before picking your own table. It’s also surprisingly packed, which I guess bodes well for the quality of the food. There’s at least one free table in the corner, though, which he points to.

“Do you want to snag us that table while I order?” he asks.

“Sure. I assume you’re picking my meal for me?” I say with a smirk.

“Yup, just trust me, darlin’.”

I shake my head fondly, then head over to the table. Within five minutes, he’s already walking over with two baskets of food and water bottles tucked under each arm.

“That was fast,” I say.

“That’s why I like this place. It’s fast and good.” He slides a basket with a pulled pork sandwich and chips and a water bottle in front of me.

I expect him to dig into his food, but he just stares at me. “You’re going to watch me take the first bite, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

He watches with barely concealed excitement as I take a bite of the pulled pork sandwich. I suppress a laugh, not wanting to choke. He’s so excited he looks almost like a golden retriever, and it’s incredibly endearing.

“Well?” he asks before I’ve even finished chewing.

I take my time, then swallow before answering. I don’t know if it’s the best barbecue I’ve ever had, but the sauce is good—a combination of sweet, spicy, and vinegary that shouldn’t work, but does. “It’s good. I like it.”

And clearly, that is the correct answer because his grin widens, making that dimple of his even more pronounced. “Oh, thank God.”

“What would you have done if I didn’t?” I ask, hiding my slight concern with a teasing tone.

“Probably drive you all the way to Goldsboro for a second opinion,” he jokes. “And worry that there’s something deeply wrong with your tastebuds.”

“Well, now that you know there isn’t anything ‘deeply wrong with my tastebuds,’ can I eat my sandwich without you watching me?”

He laughs and picks up his own sandwich. “Eat away.”

Chapter 24

Jamie

Song: Bloom – The Paper Kites

“Alright, time for a quick refresher on media training before we get there,” Mina says from the backseat as I pull off the highway toward Mills Family Farm.

I glance over at Adrian in the passenger seat and catch him tense. Mina already gave him the run-down a few weeks ago once he agreed to join me for this appearance. She was thorough, even including general guidelines on what he should wear. He’d diligently taken everything in at the time, but I know the reminder will help ease his anxiety, which is why I suggested Mina drive with us to re-brief him. Wordlessly, I reach over and squeeze his hand.

“Someone from the Cary Chronicle is meeting us at the farm. It’ll just be them and one photographer. Jamie, I already sent your answers to the interview portion of the article, so all that’s happening today is coverage of your tour of the farm,” Mina explains.

“Who’s covering this time?” I ask. When I started running for office, I made a point of familiarizing myself with the local reporters that most often cover the political beat. I found interviews to be a lot less nerve-wracking when I could break the ice either with something I had in common with them or by complimenting a past article.

“Shauna Bailey, and I believe she said the photographer would be…” There's a brief sound of pages flipping. “Someone named Mike.”

I relax a little. I don’t know who Mike could be, but Shauna covered a lot of my campaign trail the first time around. She also sent me a kind private message (through Mina) after my coming out on Instagram, so I’ve got a good rapport with her. “Oh, good. You shouldn’t have too much to worry about with her, darlin’,” I tell Adrian. “She’s a sweetheart.”

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