Bishop (Political Royalty Book 3) (4 page)

The same hotel as that woman.

She’d done her best to try to put Shep’s campaign manager out of her mind and to put herself between them, but it wasn’t easy. Every time she turned around, the woman was there, ordering everybody around. Thankfully, Sandra never had to deal with her. That nice gay man had taken over most of the one-on-one with her and Shep, making sure they were both ready when the cameras turned in their direction.

Sandra didn’t know for sure how far the relationship between her husband and the other woman had progressed, but she’d seen the way he looked at her. She didn’t have any illusions left. If they hadn’t slept together, it was just a matter of time and she didn’t have any intention of playing the long-suffering spouse while he embarrassed her. Sex was one thing, but she had an image to protect. If her husband was fool enough to jeopardize everything she’d worked for, then she’d have to hold the line for both of them. Even if it meant dragging her children halfway across the country and back.

She shifted her sleeping daughter on her hip and checked to make sure that the nanny she’d hired had Claire by the hand as they crossed the lobby to the bank of elevators. She’d been lucky to find the older, heavyset grandmotherly woman in among the stack of twenty-something au pair applications. She couldn’t see a reason to add to the problems she was already dealing with.
Look at what happened to Schwarzenegger and Shriver.

The nanny had been a godsend. Sandra would never have made it without her. Abby had always tried to accommodate her, largely to stay in Shep’s good graces, but she couldn’t be available every time Sandra needed her. Having the nanny travel with them made keeping the girls entertained so much easier and also meant she and Shep could share a separate room.

She glanced over at her husband. He looked as tired as she felt. They had one more night on the road before the next round of primaries and then there was a short break until the first week in April. Maybe she could convince him to head back to South Carolina for a week or so. They might even be able to sneak away to Hilton Head to rest for a couple of days. It was off-season, but the break would do them all good, and if she was on her home turf, she wouldn’t have to work quite so hard to keep the campaign manager away.

Who knew—given enough distance, her husband might even come to his senses, forget the other woman and remember why he’d decided to run for president in the first place. With some time alone together, she might be able to nudge him in the right direction instead of spending her time playing defense.

“Here, let me,” said Walker, handing her the keycard and taking the sleeping child from her arms.

Relieved of the weight, she straightened, smoothing her skirt over her hips and tucking in her blouse. The hotel wasn’t the kind of place that normally had a bellman, but thankfully, they’d made an exception for the senator so at least she didn’t have to juggle her own luggage. The elevator doors opened and the employee enlisted to ferry the bags pushed the loaded-down luggage cart inside. Sandra followed, glancing back to make sure the nanny and her husband followed.

Sweet Claire could barely keep her eyes open and even in all the passing back and forth, Sarah hadn’t stirred. Seeing Shep hold their little girl in his arms, she could almost remember how she used to feel about him. Their relationship had always been more about making a good match and building something important—a legacy—than finding the great love of her life, but they’d started out as friends. When they got married, they’d at least liked each other. That changed over the years, and she couldn’t say exactly why.

At first, it had been work that kept them moving away from each other. She’d been trying to build a dynasty, making sure his branch of the family represented the Walker name and exceeded the expectations of the generations that came before. He’d been off trying to feed the world. It worked because his idealism fit her ultimate goals, but as time passed, even that wasn’t enough. She woke up one morning and realized she didn’t like him all that much anymore. Of course, it didn’t serve her to do anything about it so she kept moving forward, keeping her eyes on the prize. The White House. What possible better legacy could there be than President and Mrs. Walker?

The doors opened, and he stepped out into the hallway without bothering to glance back at her. He knew she’d be there. She’d never given him a reason to doubt it, but she couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked at her—really looked at her. The thought twisted something inside her. She hadn’t expected fidelity. Not really. Her father hadn’t been faithful to her mother, and his father certainly hadn’t been faithful to his. Experience showed her powerful men rarely contented themselves with just one woman, but she still wanted him to see her. To recognize her for what she brought to the table.

God, exhaustion didn’t serve anyone.
All it did was increase stress cortisol, pack pounds on the belly and backside, and etch lines on the face. It was no time to be indulging in any kind of deep thoughts. Her melancholy wasn’t going to keep her husband out of his campaign manager’s bed.

She opened the door to the room the girls were sharing with the nanny and stepped aside to let her husband carry their sleeping daughter to one of the beds. Needing to
do
something so she didn’t
say
anything, she pulled off Sarah’s shoes and stripped off her skirt before tucking her under the covers. For one night, the little girl could sleep in her T-shirt. She pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead, looking down at the sleeping child and reminding herself why she did everything. She was building something bigger than herself. Something that would last long after she was gone, that would stretch to include her children and their children. That kind of legacy didn’t come cheap.

Claire practically swayed on her feet, but Sandra coaxed her daughter into the bathroom to wash her face. It didn’t pay for a woman to take her skin for granted and it was never too early to make it a priority. By the time they finished, the nanny had found the girls’ bags and laid out Claire’s nightgown. Sandra half expected Shep to be gone either to their room or off on some bullshit job for the campaign, but he stood in the doorway, waiting for her.

It would be foolish to think things were shifting between them. They’d been living side by side but not together for too long for things to change overnight, but she couldn’t help but feel a thin sliver of hope. Then he held out his hand and she realized he was waiting for her to hand him the keycard. She passed him the piece of plastic and he was out the door without looking back. Plastering the icy
butter don’t melt in her mouth
smile on her face she used when she was trying not to lose her shit, she followed him out the door and into their room next door.

The bellman already left the luggage. She found the bag containing her chemise and toiletries and hoisted it onto the luggage stand. As she unzipped the bag, she heard Shep head to the bathroom. Her fingers grazed the folio the reporter had given her.
Matt.
His name was Matt. He and his sister Becca had been one of the few bright spots on the trail. As the days passed, the young woman seemed to have lost some of the haunted look she had the first time Sandra noticed her. Matt, on the other hand, seemed increasingly agitated, but she doubted he’d confide in her if she took the time to ask. Hopefully it wasn’t anything serious. The girls loved Becca.

She pulled the package out of her suitcase and held it for a moment, considering. She was still holding the envelope when Shep emerged from the bathroom a few moments later. Making her decision on the spot, she crossed the room to meet him and offered him the envelope.

“What’s this?” asked Shep, looking confused but taking the package from her and turning it over in his hands.

“It’s a couple of extra shots from the photo shoot the
Tribune
did with the girls.”

“I thought we settled that,” he said, flipping open the clasp.

“We did. The paper sent these just for us.”

He’d been furious when she originally told him about the article, but even her arrogant politician husband had been charmed by the way the reporter wrote about their children. She’d known it was the right move, but it hadn’t hurt a bit to have it validated by Shep and the campaign. She watched his face shift as he slid the photo out of the sleeve. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and she held her breath for a moment, waiting, hoping even.

“It’s beautiful.” When he looked at her, his gaze was softer than usual, not warm exactly but not the icy politeness they usually met each other with. “The three of you look so happy together.”

She took a step closer to him, standing so she could look over his shoulder at the image he held. They did look happy. She hadn’t wanted to take the picture. She hated being unprepared and she hadn’t been prepared to be photographed. But Matt and his sister convinced her to do it and in the end, she couldn’t help but be grateful. If she looked for them, she could find a million things wrong with her appearance, but all of that vanished when she saw the expressions on her girls’ faces. In a rare, unmasked moment, the photographer had caught the three of them giggling together.

Taking a chance, she let her hand rest on her husband’s arm. He’d taken off his tie, unbuttoned his collar and rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. She felt the bunch of his muscles under her hand. He’d always kept himself in shape. Of course, for him, that meant eating whatever the hell he wanted and putting in some time on the treadmill. Nothing like the regimen she had to go through to keep the tabloids from commenting on the size of her ass. The double standard drove her insane some days, but railing against it didn’t do any good. Instead, she ran, did Pilates, and never let a refined carb pass her lips.

Shep looked up and met her gaze. Stepping away from her touch, he handed the envelope with the photograph back to her. She had no choice but to take it or let it fall to the floor. She took it.

“It’s beautiful, Sandra. You and the girls look lovely. It’s a great keepsake for you.”

A part of her hoped he’d want it as a keepsake for himself. Part of her—the larger part—understood that was never going to happen.

“I thought maybe you’d want it for your office,” she said, making one last-ditch attempt.

“You should keep it,” he said. “You were the one who set up the shoot.”

She debated slapping him. If he’d been defensive or at all confrontational, she might have. Instead, he was calm, resolved, and it didn’t leave her anywhere to go. It was impossible to fight with someone who wouldn’t fight back and it was clear from the expression on her husband’s face, he had no intention of fighting with her. She traded the envelope for her night things. When she turned back to face Shep, he was watching her with an expression she couldn’t read.

“Nothing is going to change between us,” he finally said. “We can’t start over. It’s too late and I don’t want to.”

“What does that even mean?” she said, exasperation warring with exhaustion.
Stupid man
. “We’re married. We’re going to stay married.” The words hung in the air with a finality she could tell he felt as clearly as she did.

“I don’t know what it means,” he said. “But I don’t want to lie to you.”

“Save it,” she said, turning away before he could make some kind of big confession that would salve his conscience and just piss her off further.

She wasn’t aiming for true love and happily ever after. She’d lost her illusions about white knights years ago, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to be queen.

Ignoring him, she headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Maybe she’d finally be able to get more than five hours of sleep and the creases developing around her eyes would go away. Maybe her husband would get his head out of his ass and stop doing things to jeopardize her future.
Maybe pigs would fly.

When she came out of the bathroom, Shep was gone. Pulling down the comforter, she climbed into bed, grateful her two hundred-dollar eye cream was more reliable than the man she married.

O
WEN HAD BEEN RIGHT. HAVEN still couldn’t believe it, but the fact that his data was better than the SBE’s made his projections even more important. It also made finding someone to act as a go-between crucial. Regardless of how much money the campaign paid him, she’d never get him to agree to travel. She was still a little surprised she’d gotten him out of his cave and to Florida, but she suspected that had more to do with the Skull Island: Reign of Kong ride in Orlando than his desire to please her. She’d also never get him to talk civilly to the people on the ground. He made even the senior staff twitchy. The captains wouldn’t stand a chance.

She rubbed at the crease in the center of her forehead that threatened to become a permanent line every time she thought of Owen and the tech stuff. Closing her laptop, she set it on the hotel nightstand. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so tired. Catching catnaps on the bus was no substitute for a full night’s sleep in a real bed. And two days crammed in the bus with the Walkers had frayed her nerves to within a thread of breaking. She debated texting Justin to tell him to forget about dinner; she was exhausted enough to go to bed hungry.