Page 78 of The Night Of
The world Steven had wanted to build was set on shifting sands, on a foundation that was rotten from the very core. He’d been undermined at every turn, in ways both subtle and sublime, by Yekaterina. We would probably spend the rest of our lives trying to understand all the ways she had betrayed Steven and the United States. Everything she had done for Moscow and the Kremlin.
“Steven wanted this, and I wanted to help him achieve his dream. But it was nevermydream.”
“What was your dream?” I didn’t think I’d ever known. We’d never talked about dreams. We’d been too scared to ask each other about future plans, too timid to find out if we weren’t already inside the castles of each other’s hearts and hopes.
“You,” Jonathan breathed. “Loving you was my dream.”
I kissed him, not caring about the doctors or the nurses or the hospital staff, or anyone else who might see us. How could I not kiss him when he spun my world in all the right ways, when he was everything I’d ever wanted, and he said I was everything he wanted?
We were already in bed together. What was a kiss on top of that? Especially when he said he wanted to give everything up to be with me. That us staying together was worth more to him than the presidency. Wonderful words, and, fuck, they did wonders for my ego.
But I couldn’t let him do that.
“Jonathan,” I murmured into our kiss. “Loving you is my dream come true, too. But please.Pleasedon’t resign. The world needs a man like you as president, especially after everything that’s happened.” I kissed him again, holding his stare. “I think Steven would want you to finish this, too. You started together. You believed in his dream, and you can still make it come true for him, in his memory. You can still the world Steven wanted.”
He pulled back. “But—”
“And I’ll be with you. Every step of the way, however you want me to be. In the shadows or by your side. I can wait for you, as long as it takes. The rest of this term, or another term, or even two. I’m not going anywhere. Not now that we’ve found each other again.”
He stared. Weighed my words, held them inside himself. His pulse fluttered, and I saw his jaw clench, the muscles in his cheek tense and hold. “If I don’t resign. If I stay…” He swallowed. “I’m not hiding this. Us. I’m not going back in the closet.”
I took his fingers and brought them to my lips. As I spoke, I kissed each knuckle. “Nothing would make me happier than to be open about loving you. But are you okay with what that will mean? The media attention?”
He barked out a single laugh. “I’m not sure how much more media attention I can get.” I smiled. “Yes,” he said. His voice had dropped, suddenly deep, grabbing my heart. “I used to tell myself I’d come out and stop hiding if I ever had a reason. I have one: you. But what about the Secret Service? We were hiding a year ago because of more than just my reasons.”
I shrugged. “I’ll resign. Or they can fire me.”
“Sean—”
“I’ll talk to the director and see what he recommends.” It was a mature answer, and so unlike me. Jonathan must be rubbing off. “He may want me to resign, if the Secret Service can’t take the hit to their image. Or he may reassign me to headquarters. I don’t know. But I’ll talk to him. Whatever happens, it doesn’t matter. I don’t care. A job is a job. You’re… you.”
What I meant was,You’re the rest of my life. You’re the love of my life. You’re my everything, Jonathan.
He watched me. Waited. Finally, he said, “You’re really willing to love me if I’m the president?”
“I already do love you, and you already are the president. I’m not leaving you, ever, unless you tell me to go.”
I got lost in his gaze, in the shine of his love. It felt like the sun was beaming down on me, like for one perfect moment, everything was right in the world. I made this man happy. I made him smile. That was enough, for the rest of my life—but here he was, offering so much more.
“So you’ll stay, Sean?” Jonathan’s words were a whisper.
“Say please,” I growled.
Jonathan’s eyes went wide.
Laughing, I pulled his face to mine and kissed him like I needed his touch to stay alive. He laughed against my lips and kissed me back, and we lost track of time as we lost ourselves in each other. We were going to do this. We were going to be together, for real, in front of the whole world. No going back.
Eventually, he pulled away enough to nuzzle my face, to push our foreheads together and brush his nose against mine. Run his fingers over the stubble along my jaw. “Are you going to make me beg?”
“Every night, Mr. President.”
The monitor tracking Jonathan’s heartbeat sped up.
* * *
Three days later,I watched Jonathan lead Steven Baker’s funeral procession up the Capitol steps and into the rotunda.
He still had a bandage on his neck, but Jonathan had insisted he was going to help carry Steven all the way to his grave. There were eight other pallbearers, members of the military, helping him.
