Page 66 of Where There's Smoke

Simone broke the silence, and in spite of her apology a moment ago, she spoke through clenched teeth. “At least they’re leaving the two of you alone.” I looked at her across the kitchen island, and she narrowed her eyes. “But then I suppose the media wouldn’t dare accuse their golden child of being a gay cheater, would they?”

I stared at her. “You don’t—”

“Save it,” she snapped, waving her hand. “They make me look bad, and everyone can be all sympathetic toward you.” She laughed bitterly. “Just imagine how many votesthatwill score you. Poor Jesse Cameron and his infertile whore of a wife. In fact, just think, if I got hit by a bus tomorrow, they’d probably skip the whole fucking election and declare you the winner.”

“What?” I shook my head and came around the kitchen island. “Don’t talk like that, Simone. I’m sorry for the things the press is saying about you, but that’s them. Not me.” I put my hands on her shoulders and took a breath to go on, but hesitated. Gaze darting to my hands, I gently squeezed, my heart dropping into my feet as I realized just how thin her shoulders were. “Simone, are—”

“I’mfine,” she snapped and wrenched away from me.

“You’re losing weight.”

“Is that a problem?” she growled.

I sighed. “Yes. It is. You can’t afford to lose any more.”

“Yeah,” she threw back. “God forbid I lose enough to give the press even more ammunition to blame me for not giving you a goddamned baby.”

My lips parted. “No, I’m worried about you, that’s all.”

“You’re just worried how it’ll reflect on your fucking campaign,” she snarled.

I blinked, taking a half step back. “What? Youknowthat isn’t true.”

She folded her arms across her chest and refused to look at me. At first glance, her posture was defensive, but she hugged herself tighter and stayed focused on the floor between us. We’d had fights like this before. She lashedout, realized she’d crossed a line she didn’t mean to cross, and now she didn’t know how to uncross it. Something told me this wouldn’t be the last time we played this game between now and the divorce, but could I really blame her with everything I was putting her through?

“I can talk to Anthony,” I said softly. “Maybe we can reduce the stress put on you during the campaign.”

She met my eyes, and for a fleeting second, her expression said nothing if notplease?But pride kicked in, and her lips hardened into a straight line. “It’s only a few more months.” She stepped back. “I can handle it. But no more delays. As soon as this election is over, so are we.”

Before I could reply that we already were over, Simone turned on her heel and stormed out of the kitchen. Sighing, I kneaded my stiff neck with both hands.

In the silence of the kitchen, I glared at the tabloid. This wasn’t what I’d bargained for. I knew going into the campaign that it would be hell for both of us, and I’d wondered time and again if Simone could handle it. But somehow, maybe because I was eternally optimistic or ridiculously naïve, I hadn’t thought it would be this bad.

I turned my head toward the kitchen doorway she’d disappeared through. Simone was an amazing, intelligent woman, but she was not equipped to deal with emotions. Asking her to play the happy wife while the clock quietly ticked down to the divorce was asking a lot of her. Too much. Far too much.

But whether either of us liked it or not, or if we could handle it, the show had to go on. With the primary behind us, the show was just about to get even more intense too.

Oblivious to the problems between my wife and me, Ranya arrived right on time at a quarter after nine. She’d barely stepped through the front door when she scowled at me. “Is that really what you’re wearing?”

“This?” I gestured at my suit. “No. This is a hologram. I’m going completely naked.”

“Smart-ass. Anthony specifically said business casual for this one.”

“Business casual?” I rolled my eyes. “Fuck, I thought today was suit and tie, tomorrow was business casual.”

“No, today is business casual, tonight is suit and tie, and tomorrow is…” She quirked her lips. “Oh hell, I can’t even remember what tomorrow is. But today?” She gestured at me and shook her head. “Casual, darling.”

“This shit is way too complicated sometimes,” I said.

“Yeah, well, your complicated life keeps me employed, so I’m not bitching.” She nodded sharply down the hall. “To the bedroom so we can get you dressed, Your Highness.”

I chuckled and led her to my bedroom. “All right, what do you suggest?”

“I’d go with khakis. Or at least light gray. Something that’s less funeral chic.”

“Funeral chic?” I glanced at her. “Really?”

She shrugged. “Hey, I’m not the one who’s a sad face away from fitting in next to a grave site. Now get out of the way and let me find something.”

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