Page 117 of Where There's Smoke

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Observation. Make sure she’s recovering. Blood pressure. Money. Fuck if I know.”

I said nothing and took another drag off my cigarette. The fatigue must have been wearing on him if he couldn’t or wouldn’t quote the doctors verbatim; I was dead on my feet, so I could only imagine how exhausted he was.

“What about you?” I asked.

He looked at me. “Hmm?”

“Are you doing okay?”

He sighed and faced the garden again. “Yeah. I just…” Closing his eyes, he forced out a breath. “Fuck, I am so…”

“Jesse,” I said, keeping my voice low. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” His tone held a mixture of pain and anger, and when he looked at me again, his eyes were wet.

“No, it isn’t,” I said, wishing we were someplace private so I could offer even the most basic platonic physical comfort.

“Yeah, well…” He trailed off, looking out at the scenery with unfocused eyes for a long moment. Then he cleared his throat. “Whatever the cause, she refuses to reduce her involvement in the campaign. I’ve tried to talk her out of it, but she won’t hear of it.”

“If it’s for her health, though…”

He laughed dryly. “You try convincing her.” The weak humor in his expression dimmed. “She knows what caused this. She said when she came to, she knew exactly what had happened.”

“Eating disorder?”

Jesse winced and nodded. “The thing is, it’s spiraled out of control. Worse than it has in a long time. She is absolutely emphatic that we don’t give the media the opportunity to call her weak or accuse her of doing this to get out of being involved in the campaign, or for attention.”

I cringed and didn’t tell him they were already on top of that particular theory.

He rubbed his eyes. “She wants to get back out on the road with us as soon as the doctors give her the green light.”

“Okay, but wanting to bounce back like that is easier said than done.”

“You don’t know Simone,” he said. “Honestly, as much as it scares the hell out of me to have her doing anything in the near future, getting her back in the saddle is probably the best thing for her.”

I blinked. “Are you insane?”

“I know her,” he said quietly. “She needs to feel like she’s not being handled with kid gloves, or else that downward spiral is just going to continue.”

“Okay, but there is a time and a place for kid gloves.”

“Yeah, and that time and place is not when Simone is in this state of mind.”

I released a sharp breath. “Jesse, this isn’t—”

“Iknowmy wife, damn it,” he snapped.

Our eyes met. He didn’t speak. I couldn’t.

I turned and crushed my cigarette in the ashtray with more force than was necessary.

Jesse tapped his fingers on the railing. “God. I’m sorry, Anthony. I didn’t—”

“Don’t worry about it.” I faced him. Before he could apologize again, I took a step toward him, barely resisting the urge to reach for his arm. “You’re stressed. More than you probably thought you would be on this campaign.”

He looked me in the eye. “I am, but I didn’t mean to imply—”

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