Page 17 of The Liar's Reckoning

Neither is an option, given how expensive Avery’s Manhattan lifestyle is turning out to be. I’m planning to put a cot in my office in the Capitol. Maybe I can do push-ups in the Rotunda after hours.

Avery is the one who suggested working out as a way to relieve stress,andshe suggested it might help sublimate some of my physical urges. Sometimes we have a little too much wine, and I overshare. In other words, she knows I’ve been horny.

I never told her about my night with the escort, but she’s noticed the long showers. She’s also familiar with the contents of my nightstand—lube and a box of strong tissues. We don’t share a bedroom, but packing and moving ended up being very revealing. And embarrassing. Not that I ever thought I was superhuman,but it was truly humbling to realize I don’t have an iron will—I’m only a very,verylate bloomer.

She and I both know, however, that as long as I plan to remain in politics, my queerness can never become public. Not because gay people aren’t allowed to be in government—that’s a ridiculous notion—but becauseshe’sinvolved in my lie now, and my family’s reputation now depends on me—ergo, so does my father’s blessing and my inheritance. It’s all tied up in the façade we’ve built. If I were to out myself, intentionally or unintentionally, it would all come crumbling down.

There’s a large part of me that wishes I’d done everything differently since I admitted to myself I was gay. My only excuse is that I hadn’t seen a need to upend my life at the time. In hindsight, that would have been the exact right time to do it—fresh out of law school, able to support myself—but…

But.

None of it matters. I thought I was a different kind of person, and it turns out I was wrong. And maybe, one day, I’ll change again—have another sexual awakening with Avery perhaps—and it will matter even less.

Avery’s feet make it another hour before she has to call it quits. We say our goodbyes, and one of my father’s drivers takes us to the new apartment. She steps onto the sidewalk barefoot, heels in hand as the door to our building opens, and I come face to face with the only man I’ve ever had sex with.

I freeze mid-step as our gazes lock.

“Graham, have you met my hero yet? This is Silas—the doorman who saved me yesterday from having to sleep on the floor.”

“You? I—Hello.” I put my hand out to shake, and when he takes it, I vividly remember the angle of his face when he arched his neck—the throaty whimper when I wrapped my mouth around his cock. His touch sends a bolt of need directly to myballs, and I’m instantly hard, swallowing around a gigantic lump in my throat.

“It was no problem, ma’am. Nice to meet you, Senator.”

Jesus fucking Christ, did he have to say it likethat? It has me wanting to say something like let me know when and how I can return the favor. I struggle to let go of his hand, wanting to do more with it like slide my fingers around his wrist and grasp his forearm, but he’s the one who lets go and stands aside for us to enter the building.

If he’s surprised to see me, he doesn’t show it. Meanwhile, I can’t form a coherent thought. My mind is full of pornographic images, both from my memories of that night, videos I’ve watched, and things I’ve only imagined.

He addresses Avery. “You’ve had a lot of deliveries…”

“I know, I know…Raphael told me. I’ll make a day of it tomorrow. Promise.”

“I was going to say I can bring them up at the end of my shift. If seven’s not too early.”

“Seven’s fine,” I tell him.

Our eyes meet again, and I’maching.

“See you bright and early, then,” he tells me before walking us to the elevator. He makes small talk with Avery, complimenting her shoes and expressing concern about her feet while she soaks up the attention. I can’t stop staring at him.

Did I really think I’d never see him again? And does this make me lucky or unlucky? I enjoyed his company, didn’t I? Not only his body. We shared things with each other. All my nerves. My inexperience. The Lawther Catholic experience. I told him I could have been a priest.

Hilarious.

Suddenly, I need to know how his mother is—all the things he told me about her come back to me quick and hard like a slap to the senses. Is she still alive? Is he okay?

He seems fine, and I certainly can’t ask, but maybe…in the morning…if Avery’s not up early…

The elevator opens, and I step inside with my wife. When I turn to say goodnight to Silas, he’s already gone.

“I love this building,” Avery sighs, leaning back for the short ride. “Everyone’s so nice.”

“Good,” I murmur, subtly adjusting myself in my pants, desperate for a very long, very hot shower. “I’m glad everything’s working out.”

7

SILAS

The tension is thick when Graham opens the door to 604. He’s wearing a black hoodie and gray sweats—like he got the memo. His hair is a barely tamed mess, and his green eyes are hooded with what could either be sleepiness or arousal.

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