Page 3 of Primary Season
When he opened his hotel room door, Patrick wore a pair of black sweatpants and a tight white t-shirt that did nothing to hide the muscles in his stomach or the definition in his arms. He narrowed his eyes at me. “So, you decided to come.”
I nodded.
“And you changed.”
“Looks like you did, too.” I glanced at my maroon wrap cardigan, black yoga pants, and black slippers.
“It’s almost twelve forty Alex,” he murmured. “I thought you weren’t coming.”
“Well, I…” I struggled to find the right words. Was this a business meeting? A strategy session? Whatwasthis? I held up the note. “We need to talk? Really? If this is—”
He grinned. “Why don’t you come inside?”
I hesitated.
“Kathryn’s not here. She went to the hotel gym. She’s obsessed with getting 15,000 steps every day on her Fitbit,” he said. “So, it’s just us.”
Patrick led me into his room for the second time that night, and motioned for me to sit down in the chair across from the couch. He sat across from me, propped his elbow on the armrest, and rested his temple on his broad hand. Neither of us spoke until I opened my ever-present steno pad, already halfway filled with notes and reminders about our plans for the next few weeks of campaigning.
“You don’t need that,” he said. “This isn’t a business meeting. Well, not in the way that you might think.”
I frowned. “What?”
Patrick’s deep, throaty laugh filled the room. “Did you think I wanted to sleep with you?”
I shrugged and my cheeks grew hot.
“I know I’m a politician, but I’m notthatkind of politician.” He gestured to the notebook. “And seriously, you can put that away.”
“Fine.” I closed the notepad and put it on the coffee table. “You had a reason for asking me to come here tonight.” I gestured with my left hand. “So what is it?”
He studied me. “What made you get into politics, Alex?”
“I told you that night at Old Ebbit. I love a challenge, and there’s nothing more challenging than winning an election. Especially a presidential election.”
“Don’t feed me a line of bullshit from a job interview. Tell me the truth.”
“I like a fight.” I paused to think about it. “And in politics, you have to fight every day. Hard.”
“How hard?”
“Very hard.”
Patrick stared at my mouth for a beat. Instinctively, I sucked in my bottom lip and chewed on it.
One side of his mouth lifted. “And that’s exactly why I hired you,” he said. “You know, when you get too into this line of work, you want it all to be about public service, but it can’t always be that way. I quickly realized during my campaign for Senate that everything I had to do, every move I made, needed to be calculated. If I made the right moves, and if I played chess, I’d make it to the next level.”
“You can’t get anything done if you’re not in office,” I said.
“Exactly.” Patrick took a drink from the open Diet Coke on the end table next to the couch. “But lately, that’s something I have to keep reminding myself about.” His eyes focused on my mouth once again.
“Why is that?” I managed.
“Because that mantra, that idea, that…effort…has crept into everything I do.” A tighter smile crossed his face. “And in ways I haven’t expected.”
“I don’t understand.”
Patrick shifted his weight, placed his elbows on his knees, and studied the geometric pattern on the carpet for a breath. When he looked back at me again, the expression in his eyes had changed. “I’m talking about Kathryn.”
