Page 228 of The Charlie Method

A smile lifts his lips. “Love you too. And I have a feeling…we’ll see him again. Maybe sooner than we think.”

I nod, resting my head against his shoulder, and for a moment, I let myself believe it.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

WILL

A tempting offer

THE ROOM IS ELECTRIC, BUZZING WITH ENERGY AS THE RESULTS KEEProlling in. I can practically taste the tension in the air, but it’s the good kind. The kind that happens when something huge is about to go down. I glance up at the screens mounted on the walls. Harper is actually ahead.

Then I glance over at Tessa, who’s been with me on this roller coaster since day one. She’s tapping away on her phone, probably already drafting tomorrow’s headline. I flash her a quick smile, and she returns it, her eyes shining with disbelief and excitement.

Excitement that I should be feeling too. Our candidate is about to win. I should be buzzing, just like everybody else. But I’m not.

If anything, I’m indifferent.

“Looks like we’re pulling this off,” I say, the words half a question, because even though the numbers are clear, it doesn’t feel real yet.

This was a rough, dirty, brutal six months, with an October surprise thrown in there that nearly had Harper dead in the water: three male employees coming forward to accuse her of sexual harassment. It took no time at all to discredit the dudes—turns out they’d been paid off by our competitor. But those few days of bad press killed her in the polls. I honestly wasn’t sure if she would be able to bounce back.

“Looks like,” Tessa confirms, her smile broad. “I think she’s actually going to win.”

The whole room is watching the TV screen now, even though the numbers are locked in. There’s that electric feeling again. Everyone else is holding a collective breath, waiting for someone to declare it official. And then it happens. The news anchor calls it. The room erupts in cheers, people jumping up from their seats, hugging each other, some of the staff even crying. Our candidate just got elected.

I clap along with the rest of the team, but that sense of apathy doesn’t fade. It only morphs into a twinge of disgust as the memories of what it took to get to this point come flooding back to me. The fake promises I heard Harper make. The way Pamela Kerry talks out of both sides of her mouth.

I knew politics was dirty, but I thought the good guys were at least cleaner than most.

They’re not.

Tessa punches me lightly in the arm, grinning like she’s just won the lottery.

“Nice speech,” I tell her, nodding at the TV.

Harper Wozniak is now standing behind a podium, thanking her supporters. The words Tessa gave her are polished but real, everything you’d want a newly elected official to say. It’s just a damn shame she doesn’t mean a lick of what she’s saying.

“You really think so?” Tessa asks me.

I nod. “You’re a damn good writer, Tess.”

Her grin falters a little, and for a moment, there’s a shift in the air between us. Something unspoken. She eases closer, the space between us shrinking.

“You’re really something, you know that?” she says. “I mean, I had a feeling you’d be good at this, but watching you in action these last few months…it’s been impressive. The way you threw yourself at that sexual harassment story, digging to the bottom of it. It was brilliant, Will.”

There’s a pause, and I feel it—that flicker of sexual tension. It’s been there before, simmering under the surface when we’d work late nights at the campaign headquarters or share drinks after a long day. Tessa’s beautiful, smart, driven. If I gave her the signal, I know she’d be up for it. It’d be easy.

But…

Charlie’s and Beckett’s faces flash in my mind. I haven’t seen them in six months. I miss them. I miss them both so much, and the idea of being with anyone else feels wrong. Like I’d be betraying what we have, even though we haven’t exactly put labels on anything. They’re my people. My home.

Tessa’s looking at me like she’s waiting for a response. I clear my throat and step back, breaking that tension before it goes any further.

“You did good too, Tess,” I say, keeping my voice steady, friendly, but not more than that.

She seems to catch the drift, giving me a nod. Her smile slips back into something more professional. “Thanks, Will.”

The campaign manager and my boss, Pamela Kerry, makes her way over to us, squeezing my arm. “Will. Tessa. Hell of a job, guys. I knew we had a shot, but I didn’t think we’d pull this off so decisively.”

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