“Oh my god,” I groan, rolling my eyes.
“Just kidding, just kidding,” she laughs raising her hands in surrender. “So what’s the favor?” She takes a tentative sip of the overpriced latte.
“I have to go back to Palmetto Grove for my sister’s baby shower and I don’t want to go alone. Considering—”
“Considering you may see Mr. Hot Boxer Shorts?”
“Right.” I nod.
“And you want a wingman?” She grins.
“Of sorts,” I say slowly, nodding.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll go. Does Hot Boxer Shorts have any friends though?” She wags her eyebrows and suddenly a vision of Chick enters my mind and I purse my lips.
“Oh hell,” I sigh heading toward my office.
“He does, doesn’t he? Ha!” Bethany shouts at my back then dissolves into a fit of laughter. The last thing I need to make this awkward situation worse is Chick and Bethany making things messier.
When I took Sweeney up on her offer to lead her campaign, I had anticipated this tremendous sense of accomplishment. I had assumed that coming into my new office would feel like taking the next big step in my career but seven months into this new position, I have felt none of that. Yes, sure, I’m still just as good at my job as I ever was, but the shine has worn off. The thrill of it has turned to dust. I was thinking that the lull in excitement was due to the presidential election being so far off still but as our campaign has ramped up over the last three months, my enthusiasm has waned.
With my trip home coming up my mind has been wondering how I’ll feel returning to DC a second time. When I returned home after my trip for Ellie’s wedding I had all but felt like a stranger in my own apartment. I didn’t feel at home. I didn’t feel content. I didn’t get that giddy feeling when going to the office, the feeling of anticipation when Sweeney had to feed the camera lens the lines I meticulously formulated for her. No real buzz when opposition flubbed to the media or was fact-checked to oblivion. Things just sort of became numb, empty, and void. Kind of like my heart.
I don’t know what any of this means for my future or me. I am afraid to even think on it much because my career has always been my prized possession but I make a mental note to speak with Dr. Banker about it this afternoon at my appointment and ask momma for her thoughts when I check in with her tonight.
Chapter 32
Raegan
“Thirty-two weeks! Eight to go,” Ellie sighs contentedly with her hands smoothing over her rounded belly.
I click my tongue and pout, feeling emotional. “Ugh, I can’t believe it. You’re so beautiful, El. I can’t wait,” I whisper in her ear with my arms around her shoulders.
“Sure you don’t want to find out the gender?” I smile and lift my brows hopefully.
“No,” she laughs. “I’m eager to find out too, but I’ve come this far, I can wait a while longer.”
“Okay,” I huff, feigning disappointment.
“I’m scared of delivery,” she confesses in a small voice. I hold myself back from her and search her face. She is wearing the same expression she did when she was little and would crawl into my bed on nights when the wind howled through the big oak tree in the front yard.
“What are you scared of?”
“I just want the baby to be healthy and have a smooth delivery but I won’t lie, the idea of pain coming scares me. I’ve always been a big sissy,” she laughs.
“I hear the drugs are good though,” a voice says from behind us. I swallow hard and turn to face him.
“Hey Sy,” Ellie says, stepping to him for a hug. He wraps his arms around her but keeps his eyes on me from over the top of her head. “I think the baby is hungry,” Ellie announces pointing at her belly where little limbs seem to be trying to make an escape from inside.
“That’s the most fascinating and yet creepy thing I’ve ever seen.” I say pressing my palm to her stomach to feel all the movement going on inside. Ellie laughs making her belly shake.
“I’m gonna go get a snack.” Ellie excuses herself then goes in the direction of the backyard where all the food and tables are set out for the baby shower today.
“Hi,” I say feeling at a loss just looking at him.
“Hey,” he says, taking a step closer to me. His eyes are crinkled at the edges like he is working at figuring something out and it makes the tiny hairs on my arms stand on end.
“What?” I whisper.
“Nothin’ Rae,” he says low then steps around me and joins the rest of the party in the backyard. I sag against the wall in the hall and will my heart to slow its pace.
Three hours later, I find myself cleaning up the mess from the party. Blue and pink tissue paper and decorations are strung all over Momma and Daddy’s backyard. Everyone has taken cake to go and Ellie is having a nap while Doug and Dad are sipping something strong on the back porch, no doubt having a moment. I bet my dad is imparting Doug with fatherly wisdom before he too becomes a dad. I pause wadding up a plastic tablecloth and try to picture myself in Ellie’s shoes. Excited for a baby to come, my husband getting last minute wisdom and a pep talk from Daddy. No matter how I try to imagine it, the image I attempt to summon in my mind, doesn’t come. I take a deep breath staring at my feet then go on cleaning up the mess.
“Want some help?” Sy says from behind me. I turn to glance at him but pull my eyes away, focusing on what I’m doing instead of gawking at the man that haunts my dreams.
“Sure.”
“Figured Bethany would help but uh…” Sy trails off motioning his chin to where Bethany and Chick are sitting at a table drinking spiked punch.
I groan and get back to clearing up the mess and breaking down folding tables as I go. By the time we have cleared the yard of all traces of blue and pink, Sy and I are having an easy conversation about my work on the campaign, his work with BCF, and all the things people chat about when they’re catching up. A massive part of me is screaming for me to ask about Christine, the leggy blonde that had been with him at the gala in DC several weeks ago but my pride refuses. Stupid pride. Is it ever useful?
“So Christine—was that her name?”
“Oh, yeah Christine,” he nods going to the cooler on the porch. He takes two beers out and comes to sit beside me on the swing. Sy twists the cap off a beer and hands it to me then opens his. I sip my beer and watch Sy take a long gulp of his, in no rush at all to elaborate on who she is to him.
“When I relieved Gene of his duties with BCF I found Christine. She took his place. She’s been great and we’ve been able to really stretch our budget since we brought her on.”
“Oh, I see. So she’s the accountant,” I say without thinking about just exactly how relieved I sound.
“You’re jealous,” he says to the horizon as he takes another long gulp of beer. I snap my head his way and splutter, unsure that I can or even want to deny it.
Fuck. What am I doing? I didn’t plan any of this.
“Shut up,” I mutter petulantly then drink down half my beer in one go. “It’s just… habit,” I explain.
“Right.” Sy faces me, cocking his head while looking at me with that mind reader expression he has. He reaches up and tucks my hair behind my ear and my cheeks burn. Sy finishes his beer and gets to his feet. Fishing his keys from his pocket, he says, “Catch ya later, Rae.”