Page 94 of Bi-Partisan

In an instant, it feels as if my chair has been pulled out from underneath me. Did he actually say what I think he just said?

On the screen, he continues to give his speech, theoretically working in the talking points and call to action from the speech he practiced earlier, but I don’t really hear it.

I had to have misheard him.

He can’t love me. We haven’t known each other long enough for that. Or have we? It’s been over nine months since that night at The Lavender Gimlet—almost three since we started dating for real. I don’t know what the proper timeline for falling in love is. I’ve never fallen in love before. Honestly, I promised myself I never would. But then Jamie came crashing into my life with his Southern charm and—

Fuck. I think I love him. I’ve been avoiding putting a name to the feeling that settles in my chest whenever I see him, but that’s what it is, isn’t it? Love. And apparently, he feels it, too. He wouldn’t have said so on local television if he didn’t. He would have referred to me as his partner—or maybe not at all. If we were still fake dating, the comment from Mitchell directly calling me out wouldn’t have set him off like this, and he would have just continued with his practiced closing statement.

Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This can’t happen—not when the state of the election is still so nebulous. I hope it doesn’t happen—for a multitude of valid reasons not factoring in our relationship—but he could lose. Then what? He’ll have no reason to stay in DC anymore. He’ll just be another person that came into my life, made me feel like I actually belonged somewhere, only to disappear—except this time, he will be the one moving away instead of me.

My instinct to run tries to claw its way out, but I shove it back down. I can’t just leave. I promised Jamie I’d see him through the election. If I left him right after he publicly admitted to loving me, it would probably all but cinch the election in Mitchell’s favor. But also, I don’t think I have the heart to leave. As much as I don’t want to get hurt, I don’t have the strength to walk away from him.

Which means I’m stuck—stuck here knowing that my heart is about to be broken, and I can’t do anything except wait for it to happen.

Chapter 30

Jamie

Song: Get On Your Feet – Gloria Estefan

I’m still on a high by the time I get back to the campaign office.

Tonight went better than I ever could have hoped. Last night, I’d basically given up all hope that I’d sound any more competent than my opponent. But after the way Adrian talked me through some of my panic, then thoroughly took me apart until I was basically a pile of goo, it was like a switch flipped. I woke up feeling like a new man.

I’m not delusional enough to think that sex fixed my brain. During our pre-sex talk, Adrian finally made me realize that nothing can just fix it—that my anxiety and burnout aren’t something I can wave a magic wand over to make it disappear. Also, that it comes and goes like waves, and like waves, when it recedes, it can still come back. It’s nice to know that being bossed around and made to come so hard I can’t string two words together for ten minutes can reset my brain like that, though.

I’m taking tonight as a win. I felt good. Confident. It was like I was back in my high school debate classroom. I loved being up there, firing back against the bullshit leaving my opponent’s mouth. Not even Mina scolding me for going off-script in my closing statement can take that from me. Especially since I feel like I killed it, even though I was figuring out what to say as I was saying it. It felt like my very own Leslie Knope moment. And there was no way in hell I was going to let Mitchell get away with explicitly calling Adrian out.

But I’m especially taking it as a win because I didn’t choke when I saw Mitchell. I think Adrian was absolutely right—Mitchell is a trigger for me. But somehow, just knowing that helped me get power over him. I’ve always operated better when I have as much information about something as I can, so the insight into why I might be feeling the way I am helped immensely.

When Mina and I step into the conference room, everyone has mostly cleared out. My parents had texted me their congratulations as soon as the debate was over, saying they needed to get home since it’s a school night. Riley and Daniel also seem to have left, so it’s only Ben and Adrian left.

Ben stands and gives me a curt nod. “Good job, sir.”

“You’re not going to yell at me for going off-book?” I joke, although I have to admit his approval means a lot.

“Not tonight,” he says.

Yup, there it is.

“Go home,” he continues. “We’ll debrief in the morning.”

“What time? I have to take Adrian to the train station in the morning.” I look at Adrian as I say it, and almost frown when I see the crease between his brows and the way he’s folded in on himself in the desk chair.

“Ten,” he replies. He grabs his briefcase and rounds the table to head for the door. “But really, good job tonight, sir.”

“Thank you, Ben. Good night,” I say, my focus still on Adrian.

He was fine when I left for the debate. A little quiet, but he’s an introvert by nature, and there were a lot of people he barely knows. When we were alone, though, he was smiling, mostly relaxed. Now he looks like Molly when a loud noise on the television spooks her—like he’s about to bolt.

Mina turns to me, dragging my attention away from Adrian. “I’m going to walk out with Ben. But great job,” she says before giving me a hug. “Adrian—”

He blinks for a moment, then seems to come back to himself and stands. “It was good to see you, Mina,” he says.

“You, too.” She gives him a quick hug. “Thank you for coming down to get our boy to relax. Clearly, whatever you did last night worked.”

He chuckles, but it sounds forced.

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