Page 3 of Valentine's Day Proposal

“Crostini.” I quirked an eyebrow and grinned. “It’s from La Rouge, that French place on M Street.”

“Wow, that’s in Georgetown. They deliver?” Tammy talked with food in her mouth, another of my pet peeves, but I let it slide in favor of settling into the new conversation and forgetting Nina’s line of questioning. I was grateful to dodge that bullet.

I sat in the leather-covered, wingback chair nearest the fireplace and took another snack for myself, cradling my hand beneath it so none of the tomatoes fell on my carpet. “They don’t, but I know a guy.” I winked at her as I sank my teeth into the doughy bread. It was delicious.

“I was just telling Charles how we need to do something to increase our ratings in the polls. What do you think, Peter?” Nina sat down across from me in the other wingback, crossing one leg over the other. She wore skinny jeans and boot socks well past season for them. Not that I cared much about fashion, but I thought boot socks were a thing of the last decade. Her foot bounced as she waited for an answer.

Peter straightened, reaching for a piece of food. He set his feet on the ground as he took a large bite and raised his eyebrows. Unlike Tammy, Peter nodded and moaned his appreciation for the delicacy, waiting until his bite had been swallowed before he spoke.

“I think—” he cleared his throat “—we’ve discussed this already. The plan is to smear the opponent. We found some great dirt on both the prospective candidates we’re up against. Pickler and Ulbrich both had affairs on their wives. I have proof of each. We can apply pressure to them to back out, or we can go to the tabloids.”

Nina snickered. “I’m so glad Charles is a faithful man. No lies, no deceit.” She acted like a drunken, lust-crazed kid at times, the way she swooned for no reason. I’d never given her cause to think I would be interested in her.

“Yes, well even the most honorable people have skeletons, don’t they, Charles?” Peter pushed the second half of his crostini into his mouth and chewed and I shrugged. I had no skeletons to speak of, except cheating on an exam I ended up failing anyway and had to take over.

My father was a righteous man, placing the utmost importance on honesty and virtue. I followed in his footsteps because I wanted my life to be an example, just like his. The worst my opponents could dig up on me would be some overdraft fees from my bank during my college days.

“What else are we doing?” Nina cocked her head as she picked up another crostini and took a small bite. Peter licked his lips and continued.

“We are also moving on the slant toward conservatism.” He held a hand up as I scowled. “On points where Charles had felt more comfortable allowing. The vaccination policy, the public education sector… Alright?” His eyebrows rose in my direction, and I nodded.

I made it clear that though I was pretty strict on certain things, he could bend a little on others–my compromise. Everyone had their beliefs, and I was entitled to mine too, but I wouldn’t sell out even if it cost me the election.

“And lastly, we are still needing to work the marriage angle.” Peter grabbed his beer from the coaster on the end table next to him and gulped it, washing his snack down.

“And I said that’s pretty well off the table.” I hadn’t gotten a drink when I went to the kitchen to get the snacks and I was regretting it. Anything would serve as a distraction at this point though, so I picked up another crostini and shoved the entire thing into my mouth.

“And I said, if you want to win, this is what you have to do.” Peter set his beer down and stared at me with his stern, fatherly expression. “It’s not a real marriage, Charles. I told you to think of it like an arrangement. You’ve taken on a new business partner, and you pay them a hefty salary to walk around with you at events, laugh at your jokes, smile at you like you’re the peanut butter to their jelly. Simple. No emotions, no sex, just business.”

I scowled at him. Marriage was a sacred institution, not a business venture or a contract to negotiate. When I got married it would be for love, not for business, and his pressuring me was not going to help him a bit. When I made my mind up there was no changing it.

“I’ll do it.” Nina raised her hand in a feigned timidity that made me roll my eyes. She’d been trying to get in my pants for months and now she was volunteering to be my wife. I knew exactly how that would go.

“No, thanks. I’m not getting married.” My tone came out colder than it should have, but she was the farthest thing from attractive to me. I wouldn’t even date her, let alone marry her. “And I think I can win the primary without your plot to make my public image better.”

Peter shook his head and pulled out his phone. “You want to know what polled voters are saying?” He flicked through a few apps. “Gallop says 72% of voters would trust Charles Andrew Perish more if he were married. Eighty-one percent of voters agreed that Mathers’s family made him more trustworthy. And a whopping 97% of voters trust political figures who are over the age of 45 and married. Ninety-seven percent! Charles, it's a no brainer.”

Nina scoffed at me and sighed. “It’s just a business partnership, and you know I kick ass at my job. I marry you and we win this race; you don’t even have to pay me.” She smacked her red-stained lips and squared her shoulders as if she had proven a point.

“No,” I said firmly. “If I were to get married—and that’s a huge if— it wouldn’t be you.” My thoughts immediately went to Willow again, her smile, the way she laughed a little when she was nervous. I’d never marry anyone because the only person I’d ever thought of like that was a woman who was off limits now.

“Well, now we’re getting somewhere.” Peter grinned and leaned forward, clapping his hands together and clasping them in front of himself.

“What do you mean?” Tammy glanced around the room looking confused, as if she’d just missed the entire conversation.

“He means, Charles just gave away his trump card.” Nina smirked. “Charles, who is she? Or wait, is it that you’re gay? Is that why? Oh, Peter! We could swing that. The first—”

“I’m not gay, and her name is Willow. Okay? It was a college thing a long time ago. It’s not really public business and I don’t want her dragged through this. She’s probably happily married and moved on with her life.”

I blurted the entire thing out and embarrassed myself, but it had to be said. At some point Peter would have done his digging anyway and she’d have surfaced in the tabloids next to my picture. I stood firm in my assessment though. I had no intention of marrying just for convenience or business. And Willow would never agree to that either. So, it was settled. I was not getting married.

What troubled me was the way Peter eyed me as I picked up another appetizer. I had just shot myself in the foot.

4

WILLOW

Mel perched on the edge of my desk, knees dangling. It was near closing time, and we had finished up the last of the day’s work and were just chatting about the possibility of a new expansion into Virginia, Roanoke or possibly Norfolk. With the success we’d had in Georgetown, I believed making Mel a partner and opening a new office would be a possibility, something I hadn’t thought would happen when I opened the tiny 250-square-foot storefront two years ago.

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