Page 23 of The Senator's Rival

Everything had fallen apart. There were so many things wrong with Margot's life right now that she hardly knew where to begin picking up the pieces. How was it even possible for everything to collapse all at once and so rapidly? Just a month ago, Margot was coasting toward the biggest prize she had ever pursued. Now, she wasn't even sure she wanted it, nor if she ever really had.

Immediately after that disaster of a debate, she had retreated to the privacy of her suite, locking out the rest of the world. She had changed into a lavender silk pajama set, fully expecting to curl up in bed and forget the world. Sleep hadn't come, though, and now Margot was sitting on the sofa, staring out at the grey sky.

Her entire worldview had become a confusing, incohesive mess. Everything was convoluted and messed up. She found it incredibly difficult to stay focused on anything. Couldn't find the will to care about all these things she'd been obsessing over for the past decade. What was happening to her? Who was she and how she had ended up here? How long it would be until she could crawl out from under the weight crushing her ribs?

An unexpected text message popped up and Margot arched her eyebrows in surprise when she saw it. She'd assumed Francesca was off celebrating, probably gloating and basking in her success. After all, Margot had been unprepared and incompetent during the debate. Completely ineffectual and useless. If their roles had been reversed, Margot would probably be enjoying herself immensely.

She rolled her eyes and put the phone down without responding. The last thing she needed was pity from someone who would relish her humiliation more than anyone in the long run.

Several minutes passed, and the phone buzzed again. Irritated, Margot reached out for it to toss it aside in frustration and annoyance, when the preview window indicated another new text. Hesitating, she picked it up and unlocked it, pursing her lips thoughtfully as she read the message.

Francesca: I don't like the way tonight went. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I got the sense that something is bothering you a great deal. You didn't seem like yourself out there. You're one of the best politicians I've known, and if something is troubling you enough to affect you like this, I would hope you have someone to talk to about it. If not, my door is always open.

Despite herself, a wry smile pulled at Margot's lips. She imagined Francesca's warm, rich voice saying those words with the same fire and passion she used to make speeches. It was exactly the sort of gesture that characterized the other woman: earnest, heartfelt, compassionate, generous—to a fault, really. God, it would be so wonderful to have someone like that in her life. Someone who genuinely cared about the world and those who inhabited it. Someone who cared about her, not just about what she could do for them.

Taking another deep sip of white wine from the bottle next to her, Margot sighed and started typing a reply. It had been a long time since she had been honest with anyone, let alone herself. Her head was aching, her eyelids heavy with exhaustion, and she couldn't muster the willpower to resist the temptation. Her life was already crumbling to pieces. Why not throw caution to the wind and see what happened?

Margot: Got a lot on my mind. Congratulations, by the way. You were incredible tonight. You always are.

Before she had a chance to overthink it, she sent the message. The seconds seemed to stretch out indefinitely, and Margot took a few deep breaths in an effort to calm her racing heart. This was stupid, she thought to herself angrily. Absolutely pathetic. She wasn't some teenager mooning over her crush. Still, when another message appeared moments later, her heart skipped a beat. It was a simple message, asking if this was a good time to talk. Margot confirmed, and almost immediately, Francesca asked where she was staying and if she could come by.

Margot didn't hesitate, quickly giving her the hotel address, her suite number, and alerting the staff to allow her up without fuss. Through all of this, Margot shut off her brain, refusing to listen to the nagging voice in her head that reminded her about who she was supposed to be, what people expected of her, and why none of this was a good idea. That voice had controlled her whole life for twenty years. Tonight, Margot was going to let loose a little and be true to her feelings, whatever they might be.

When the knock came at the door, her stomach lurched involuntarily and Margot hesitated a moment before opening, taking a deep breath to steady herself. The women stood in the doorway for a moment, looking at each other, both a little uncertain about how to proceed. Margot wasn't quite sure what to expect. Francesca looked casual but striking, having changed into jeans and a flowing, comfortable black shirt instead of the smart pantsuit she'd been wearing at the debate. Margot had never before seen her in casual wear and she liked it.

“Can I come in?” Francesca asked with a friendly smile.

Margot felt an uncomfortable flush rise in her cheeks. Maybe this had been a terrible idea. Of course it is! her brain yelled at her, but in the physical world, Margot nodded and gestured wordlessly for Francesca to follow her inside. Tension hung heavy in the air between them as they sat down on opposite sides of the couch in the main living space. Margot felt strangely naked without all her professional armor on, especially looking into those deep, concerned eyes. It took conscious effort to maintain eye contact rather than staring at the floor or her hands like an embarrassed schoolgirl.

“So, what the hell happened tonight?” asked Francesca, her tone light and conversational. “Did you eat some bad seafood? Because the Margot I know wouldn't have just sat back and taken it without fighting tooth and nail for every inch.”

It made Margot chuckle dryly, and she shrugged, leaning back against the armrest. “What do you care? Didn't you love every minute of it?”

“Not really, no,” Francesca replied earnestly. “I was worried about you. I still am.”

“Why?” Margot asked curiously. “That debacle probably won you a solid five points in the polls. It's not often that you get a gift-wrapped victory.”

“Maybe,” conceded Francesca, “but winning isn't the only thing that matters. I don't like it when people get hurt along the way. You look tired. And sad, actually. Are you all right, Margot?”

That was the thing Margot had never understood about her opponent. Despite everything, despite the stakes and the competition, Francesca never stopped caring about people. That had been incomprehensible and, frankly, a little insulting to Margot until very recently. It went against everything she believed about what it cost to get to the top of the food chain. Compassion was weakness. But maybe she'd just never seen true empathy before. Maybe there were some people whose hearts were still kind and real, even in their unforgiving world, and Margot had somehow missed out on that entirely during her meteoric rise.

“No, I don't think I am,” she answered after a while, running her fingers through her hair as she glanced back at the dark city outside. “You got in my head with all that talk about integrity and being who you really are. About believing in things. In people. You're insufferable, you know that?”

Francesca laughed softly, shrugging. “I've been told that more than a few times,” she admitted, “but I have to say, you're the last person whose mind I was expecting to change with any of that. Is there a conscience lurking somewhere underneath that icy exterior after all?”

Margot snorted. “God help me, I think there might be,” she sighed theatrically. “It's absolutely dreadful. How do people live like this?”

They chuckled together briefly, falling silent again. As her laughter faded, however, Francesca turned serious again, studying Margot intently. They hadn't gotten this close or spoken this candidly before, and even in normal circumstances, this would have made Margot uneasy. Right now, though, it felt surprisingly easy to trust this woman and to confide in her. Margot could almost feel the kindness and genuine compassion permeating through the air, warm and soothing, washing over her.

“Really, though, your perspective has been making me question a lot of things,” she continued, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “I chose ambition over everything else a long time ago. I chose it over happiness, love, fulfillment, all of that. I thought that if I was going to get ahead, I had to live my life a certain way. Dress, talk, and act a certain way. Get married to a respectable gentleman and play the part of the devoted wife. Love never factored into it. Not for either one of us. It was all just convenient.”

“I have been wondering about that,” Francesca mused. “Not to put too fine a point on it, but you certainly haven't seen all that worried about your husband during our last, ah, encounters, as it were.”

Margot chuckled bitterly, waving her hand dismissively. “It's all a sham,” she said nonchalantly. “You must have figured that out already. I've never been the slightest bit attracted to Will—or any man—and he's got a partner up in Vermont. We've been friends since we were children. Or, well, we used to be friends. These days, we mostly tolerate each other. Getting married would help both our images, so we did. Made our parents happy, and don't we just look so lovely together in the photos?”

Margot’s voice was tinged with self-loathing and frustration as she explained, her fingers pulling at the hem of the silken pajamas absentmindedly. It felt good to admit this to someone. It felt liberating. Like the first drop of water landing on the desert sand after years of dehydration. And God, Margot was so parched.

“That sounds exhausting,” Francesca laughed softly. “I couldn't live like that if I tried. I get it, though. Being an openly gay woman in this business is rough, and I’m sure more so at the time you were starting out and I can't imagine your voter base would have responded well to a lesbian congresswoman.”

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