Page 63 of The Night Of
Why was he asking? “Yeah.”
He was quiet. “Why’d you really quit the detail, Sean? I know it wasn’t because you had appendicitis, like you told everyone.”
“No, it was because of my phimosis.”
Nguyen choked. “You’re such an asshole. Really. Why?”
“Look, we’ll talk later, okay? Once all this shit is done.” I ended the call before Nguyen could say anything further, dropping the phone into the seat beside me. We’d talk later, and maybe one of us would be in a jail cell. Him or me, I wasn’t sure. Hell, I wasn’t sure about anything anymore.
The miles hummed beneath my tires. DC rose in front of me, the Capitol and the Washington Monument and the flag fluttering over the White House, sliding between the buildings that surrounded downtown.
A note taped to a desk. A gun Baker felt he needed, and that he had to hide. Phone calls to a dead man.Flowerterriblescrawled on the mirror.
Three phone calls from a burner phone. Three people on the move at Camp David.
Who was in Aspen with President Baker?
Who fired the gun?
Fifteen
When I got backto the Oval Office, I nearly ripped the door from the hinges and hurled it down the hallway. Thecloseddoor.
Jonathan knew, damn it, he knew not to shut the doors unless I was with him. What was he doing?
I tore it open and barged in, one hand already flipping back my jacket pocket, ready to draw. A thousand nightmares crawled across my brain, a thousand horrible images: Jonathan dead on the carpet, Jonathan dead beneath his desk, Jonathan staked to his desk and bleeding out, his blood dripping from the edges of the old wood where he’d clenched down so hard only a day earlier—
I wasn’t prepared for what I did see: Jonathan and Felicity, sitting across from each other at the sofas in front of the fireplace and sharing a pot of coffee from the silver presidential set. Their gentle laughter floated through the office, the soft sounds of two people sharing memories, diving into their past and digging up treasures.
Jonathan glared as I barged in, but the First Lady spoke first. “Sean,” she said, smiling. “How lovely to see you. Please, join us.” She held out her hand.
She looked better than she had the last time I’d seen her. She was still in mourning, but this was a graceful, quiet grief. She wasn’t the shattered woman from before. She was all in black, black pants and black silk top. She’d put diamond studs in her ears, and she wore a silver watch around her wrist and her wedding band. She looked gorgeous.
I looked from her to Jonathan and back.
“Mr. President,” I said slowly. “Ma’am.”
I shut the door behind me and stood awkwardly in front of the two of them, as if I were a child being scolded by his parents. Jonathan watched me like a hawk, his gaze digging around inside the deepest parts of me. Felicity reached for my hand and squeezed, as if I were an old friend she hadn’t seen in far too long.
“Jonathan and I were talking about the funeral tomorrow.” She swallowed, and her put-together facade wavered. For a moment, I thought she was about to cry, but she took a breath and closed her eyes. A minute later, she gave me a wavering smile. “Then we started reminiscing. We have so many happy memories of Steven.”
I nodded. My tongue was heavy, weighted down with too many questions.
“How are you both?” Felicity asked. Her eyes flicked from Jonathan to me, and a secret smile curled up her lips. “I hoped the two of you would find a way to connect again. Steven and I were rooting for you.”
Jonathan flushed, turning magenta from his neck to the tips of his ears. He cleared his throat and shifted, crossed his legs, straightened his shirt cuff beneath his suit jacket. I said nothing.
Felicity held up her hands, palms forward. “It’s not my business. I do hope you both can find happiness, though. You are very special men, and you deserve all the joy in the world, and a relationship as full and wonderful as each of you are individually.”
“A relationship like you and President Baker had?” My teeth clamped shut after I spoke. My fucking mouth, always running away with me.
“Yes,” Felicity said. Her head tilted, and she gave me a small, sad smile. “I wish everyone could experience the kind of love Steven and I shared.”
Jonathan knew me better than the First Lady did. His eyes flicked to mine, hard and cutting as he searched for answers. What the fuck was I doing? Didn’t I know that was his best friend’s widow? A woman he’d known for over twenty years?
Felicity was adept at reading a room. She smoothly carried on, redirecting the conversation. “Sean, are you back on the protective detail? Will you be taking the lead for Jonathan?”
“I’m not sure, ma’am,” I said. “I’m on a special assignment right now.”
