Page 61 of Presidential Bargain
“I want everything we have on Huntley leaked. Now.” Everyone was gathered in my condo. The longer I sat idle, the angrier I became. I looked at everyone in the room because it had gone silent. They all stoppedtalking.
Lewis and Jenkins looked positivelyfrightened.
“Do it discreetly. Use one of those temporary email accounts. And don’t do it from one of our computers.” Sean was the one to bark the orders, but they might as well have come from me. He stood next to me, ready to go to battletogether.
Fuck being clean. Fuck being honest. Thiswaswar.
The minute Jameson hung up,I crumpled to the floor of the kitchen. Asking him to leave was the hardest thing I had ever done since burying my parents. I’d finally reached my breaking point and while I could have listened to him explain, what I needed was for him to leave. I was overwhelmed because the house was too much; it was stunning and meticulously finished, but the contents of that envelope turned everything ugly. He needed to leave because I needed to process the information I was given without him, Sean, and the spindoctors.
I missed him terribly and hearing his voice, that deep, rich velvety baritone, even for a few minutes, was enough to send my heartracing.
I had watched his disastrous press conference. He looked tired and defeated. He still wore a crisp suit, but no tie. He hadn’t shaved, so his face was covered in a fine layer of dark hair. I felt lost just sitting in the cabin. What was Jameson doing? Who was he with? Was he running constantly? Had he switched his playlist to play nothing but BlackSabbath?
After three days, my body itched for his touch. I reached into the suitcase that sat next to the kitchen door and pulled out one of Jameson’s shirts. I had swiped it long ago from his dry cleaning bag and it still smelled faintly of him. I pulled it over my thin cotton dress and wrapped it tightly around me like a cocoon. I broke down again, tears streaming heavily down mycheeks.
I let my own weakness easily swallow me and I caved into my owndesires.
“Hello?Georgie?”
I called him back and when he answered, his voice was full ofconcern.
I was crying so hard, choking on each sob, that I was having a hard time breathing. I gasped for air in between bouts ofcrying.
“Everyone, out! Get out of the condo! Just do it!” I heard him yelling on the other end. There were other voices, and then I heard the door slamming in thebackground.
“Tell me what’s wrong,Georgie.”
The words refused to come, though. I cried and cried until I started to dryheave.
“I’m coming togetyou.”
“No, Jameson,” Icroaked.
“You can stay with my parents or the townhouse in Boston; you don’t have to stay with me. But I’m coming for you, littledarling.”
“I’m not ready. Just talk to me. Tell me about your day. Tell meanything.”
“Lewis and Jenkinsmissyou.”
I managed a chuckle. “Theydonot.”
“Do too! I ordered a waffle this morning out of habit, and neither of them ate it. They just sat there and stared at it. It wasverysad.”
“That’snottrue.”
“Okay, it’s not. Jenkinsateit.”
I actually laughed out loud, and then Jameson joined in. It felt good to feel something other thansadness.
“Fuck, I miss you so much. Please, let me come andgetyou.”
“I need some more time, Jameson. Tellmemore.”
Jameson continued to talk while I mostly listened to him. I managed to extract myself from the cold tile of the kitchen floor and over to the couch, where I covered myself in an old afghan. I began to feel sleepy despite the early hour. Jameson’s voice was a soothing balm to my batteredheart.
“Jameson,” Imurmured.
“Yes,darling?”
