Page 58 of Longing for Liberty
But he didn’t move yet, and neither did I.
“I love you, Lib.”
“I love you, too.”
My wings of rage and rebellion folded back in to rest, knowing Amos Fitzhugh wouldn’t be the first to have any part of me.
TWENTY-SEVEN
STATE NEWS: WORLD IS LOOKING TO THE STATE FOR MANUFACTURING TRADE, BUT ROAN HOLDS OFF FOR BETTER DEALS!
I gotto work and was surprised to see Fitzhugh sitting at the table in black slacks and shoes and a blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He wore his black-rimmed readers as he stared at the laptop screen.
“Good morning, Amos,” I said, feeling weirdly shy.
For one brief moment, he looked away from the screen and flicked his eyes over my body, then went back to his work, not saying a word.
I stood there for a long stretch, confused, before moving to the kitchen with the basket. I took off my shoes, stockings, and underwear, placing them in a neat pile, and then ate my breakfast of oatmeal with blueberries and pecans. I made furtive glances toward the Secretary, but he never looked my way. By now he was usually in the kitchen with his hands on me. Panic flickered in my chest.
Did he know something? Had he found out I’d passed along information?
Oh, God, please, no.
Focus. Calm down.
If that was the case, I would have been met at the maid’s office by State Force or dragged from my home. I couldn’t imagine being allowed to waltz back in here like it was an ordinary day. Unless Fitzhugh had his own punishment in mind…
No.Stay calm. Go numb.
I shook off my nerves and paranoia as best as I could, telling myself it could be anything. He was a moody man. Maybe his wife had called and given him attitude. Or Walinger had questioned his work choices. The two of them seemed to have issues. His coldness most likely had nothing to do with me.
But as the day wore on and hours passed, he continued to ignore me, typing hard on his keyboard. Taking calls in which he gave gruff, one- or two-word responses. I had to force myself to pay close attention to my work so I didn’t get distracted and mess anything up. The curtains were right where I had left them, draped over the furniture, and I cursed myself again for taking them down too early. I wasn’t in the right state of mind to do them, so I put them all back up and went to make Fitzhugh’s bed.
My whole being was tensed and hyper-aware, expecting him to walk into the bedroom at any moment, but he never did. I began to feel a little nauseated with anxiety that I couldn’t tamp down.
A thought came to me…what if he was done with me? Bored. I nearly giggled with a rush of euphoria at the thought of being able to come to work and not have the stress of sleeping with him anymore. Yes, he was incredibly sexy, and yes, I had enjoyed our encounters, but I didn’tknowthis man. What we were doing both terrified and thrilled me, and my nervous system was a wreck because of it. There wasn’t a single part of me that would be sad or insulted if he tossed me aside now.
I walked past him when I was finished, feeling the absence of his eyes on me, and went into the kitchen to make his dinner. Tonight was a hamburger with lettuce, tomato, and onion, with oven-roasted potato wedges. The bun appeared homemade with a glossy, egg-washed top. No squished down, prepackaged buns anymore.
I checked the wedges to make sure they were soft on the inside and crispy on the outside, then I plated his food and brought it to him at the table. Setting it down, I stepped back and clasped my hands. He stared intently at his phone.
“Will there be anything else, sir? Um, Amos…sir?”
“Get dressed,” he said without lifting his eyes.
I rushed away to do as he’d ordered, all the while in knots. A sharp pain developed where my sternum met my abs, nearly doubling me over. I’d learned years ago that anxiety could cause physical pain, and I was certain that’s what this was. I took a deep breath and let it out before I went to face him again.
This time I stood before him without saying a word. He ignored me for at least half a minute before he finally stood, walking slowly until he towered over me, his face stern.
“How was your evening last night, Liberty?”
Was he asking about the hanging? I blinked and looked down. “It was…” My mouth went dry.
He stepped closer, our bodies nearly touching. “How did it feel?”
“What?” I peered up at him again, unsure what he meant, and then I saw something in his eyes I wasn’t expecting. Hurt. Oh my God…did he know what Jeremy and I did? Heat flushed over me like I’d walked through a steam bath.
“Are you sore today?”
