Page 61 of Capitally Engaged

“No, I know. I’m not saying days or weeks. Just hours. Give her tonight. Besides, it’s almost dark and you’re not positive she’s there. You can’t just roll up at a woman’s place and try to break down the door after dark.”

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring out the window, not truly seeing the setting sun.

“You’re right.”

“When you’re feeling better, we’re going to return to this momentous occasion of you admitting I’m right. But for now, do you need anything?”

I sucked in a big breath. “Would you... would you come over? I’d rather not be alone right now, and maybe you can help me sort through things and figure out what to say?”

“Pretty sure speech writing is your wheelhouse, big bro, but of course. I’ll be right there. Have you eaten? Doesn’t matter. I’m bringing food. And beer. But only two each. You need to be ready to go win back your girl in the a.m.”

Hayden hung up without saying goodbye, clearly intent on accomplishing his to-do list and getting over here. Ironic he pointed out what I asked for help with essentially equated to writing a speech, but I felt all out of words when faced with the monumental stakes of the occasion.

I picked up my phone again, and opened to my text thread with Jax, wincing at all the unanswered messages from my side of the conversation.

Preston

Can you please let me know you’re safe?

The dots indicating someone was typing appeared almost immediately.

Jax

I’m safe

I stared at my phone for a few moments longer, willing the dots to appear again, for Jax to tell me a little bit more. Tell me she missed me, just as much as I missed her. That she trusted me to stand by her, weather any storm to come our way, now and in the future. She meant too much to me to just shake off and move on. A box left on the TV stand, closed like the end of a story. Our story. This couldn’t be the end.

The phone screen stayed stagnant, and I clicked it off. I hoped Hayden got here soon. It turned out I was hungry... and ready to bring my woman home.

Hayden made me promise I would wait until 9:00 a.m. before ringing Michelle’s buzzer. So naturally, I arrived at her address, which I had wormed out of Laurel with obscene promises I’m not sure I ever had a shot in hell to fulfill, by eight-thirty. I waited at a coffee shop down the street, deciding loitering brought more of a creepy vibe than I was willing to take on. Taking a deep breath, I checked on the article. Maybe no one wanted to read this morning.

Somehow, the article was already trending onTheDispatch’swebsite. Okay. Everyone wanted to read this morning. It lookedlike Buzzfeed picked it up as well. The comment section onTheDispatchwas unsurprising, but made me sick nonetheless. I clicked over to the Buzzfeed article, hoping for better results. The title made me pause. “Why Are We So Afraid of Women’s Sexual Empowerment?” That sounded promising. I read on.

The article didn’t even mention me or Senator Marsden by name. It laid out the situation, Jax being allegedly tied to a pen name against her will. She worked for a political campaign, and she was engaged to someone with political aspirations.

But from there, it spun off in a different direction, discussing the history of the romance industry and the lack of respect it got from the literary world and larger world beyond. Experts were quoted, other articles were linked. It was an incredibly thorough article for something that only went live a handful of hours ago.

I scrolled back to the top of the article and recognized the top contributing writer’s name, Katie Beck as a source our office used when the senator wanted something discussed in the more mainstream media. Had he... the only way this would have been put together in time was if Katie was given a heads upTheDispatcharticle was coming.Interesting.

The article finished by saying whether Jax was June Kennedy or not, writers deserved their privacy for a whole variety of reasons, and to check out one of their books. The comment section here was much more positive. Some hateful vitriol still mixed in, especially because some of Jax’s books featured same-sex couples as the leads. Most excitingly, it was full of people saying they were planning to check out Jax’s books and share them with other romance-loving friends.

The alarm I set for 8:58 a.m. went off, and I drained the last of my coffee, energized to see Jax. My phone vibrated again, and I looked to see a message from Charlotte.

Charlotte

Hayden filled me in a bit about what happened. Hope you get to talk to Jax today.

If you do, make sure you show her this. At least half a dozen people have already sent me the Buzzfeed link today, without even knowing I know Jax.

The link Charlotte included led to Jax’s Amazon author page. I clicked over and saw several of her books were in the top 100 of their categories, and one charted in the top 100 of the entire Kindle store. If Jax wanted it, that open, successful career she dreamed of was within reach.

The resolve inside my body thickened like a lightning bolt to the heart. I wasn’t an idealist. You couldn’t have a career in politics and remain one completely. But I believed this situation wasn’t as dire as Jax seemed determined to make it to be. If nothing else, she needed to grab this opportunity by the horns for herself.

I hit the buzzer for apartment 2D, with no response. I jammed it again and again, recognizing I approached on nuisance status. Maybe she wasn’t here? When did Michelle leave for work?

I tried one more time, leaving the button depressed much longer than socially acceptable. Then I heard it, a tinny voice.

“Michelle Hammond’s apartment?” She sounded uncertain and little annoyed.

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