The Phoenix Campaign (Grace Colton Book 2) (9 page)

He takes my hand and shakes it as if this is a formal meeting, then leads me to a conference room with frosted glass windows. He touches my back lightly to usher me inside, then closes the door behind us.

“I thought you were in New York?” I turn to him and his arms are around me in an instant, his mouth on my neck, his hands moving under my jacket to pull me close to his chest. I relish his hot breath that sends shivers of anticipation through me and let my body melt into his.

We just stand there in that embrace. Breathing. Being. Together.

I take a shaky breath and let out a long sigh of contentment. This is what I need to be whole. To be with this man whom I love beyond reason. To be assured he loves me. I pull my face back from him and press my lips to the corner of his mouth, hesitating, to feel where he wants us to go.

There is no question. He crushes his mouth to mine and demands everything—my whole focus, my whole heart—in this one kiss. His arms band around my ribcage so tightly I can hardly breathe and his tongue lashes against mine, demanding the kind of wicked acts we could do when we’re somewhere more private than campaign headquarters.

That thought shakes me out of my kiss-induced trance and I break our mouths apart, panting for breath. “I don’t want Shep to walk in right now.”

“Neither do I.” Another kiss and Jared lifts me off the ground in the strength of his embrace. “But he’ll be here in a second.”

Jared releases me just in time for Shep to walk in without knocking. Shep looks from Jared to me, sensing our connection, and smiles. “How are you, Grace?”

“Fine. Busy.”

“Jared tells me you’ve been tired. Are you good with the schedule changes?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Shep pulls out a chair and sits, nodding for me and Jared to join him at the conference table. “How is Sasha working out? She’s a fireball.”

“She is. I think … I think she’s doing a good job.” My mind spins for some excuse to get Jared out of the room so I can speak with Shep privately. I
have
to tell him. I owe it to him. But I can’t do it while Jared is here and my nerve is slipping away.

“Jared, could you give us a minute, please?” My eyes beg him to understand, but his expression slams closed, confused by the fact that I’m kicking him out of this meeting.

“Something on your mind?” Jared makes no move to stand.

Shep rescues me. “Actually, now’s a great time for you to see if you can get the Charlotte meet-and-greets nailed down, especially with the governor.”

Jared looks from Shep to me, telegraphing annoyance from his whole body, but he stands. “No problem.”

When the conference door closes behind him harder than necessary, I let out a breath.
I can do this. It’s just a few words.
I bow my head.

“Sometimes the best way is just to rip off the Band-Aid,” Shep says gently. “Something’s bothering you. Is it Sasha? I know she can be abrasive, but after Jared made the call, I thought he could be right. We need more hands on deck and she’s as competent as they come. Smart and thorough.”

I shake my head, my eyes glued to the table in front of us. I can’t meet his crinkling brown eyes that charm voters with a depth of pathos and warmth few other politicians can match. “It isn’t Sasha. She’s good. It’s … me.”

“I told you before. The pictures aren’t an issue for me. You can decide when or whether to make your relationship with Jared public. You did well on the Gloria Alton show even when she pressured you. The people who are howling the loudest about you dating? We were never going to get those voters anyway.”

I look up, swallowing to keep tears trapped, but Shep’s kind expression is my undoing. One tear splatters on the conference room table, followed by a couple more. I blink.

“Talk to me. What are you afraid of?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to hate me for this,” I whisper.

He straightens in his chair. “For what? For loving that bastard? We can’t control who we fall in love with, or when. It might not be politically expedient, but I learned a long time ago that if we sacrifice who we love for our ambitions, achieving them is a hollow victory.”

“How—how do you know that?” Shep’s statement sounds like he has some experience here, but nothing in his official biography suggests anything but a normal, if privileged, life. His father served as Missouri’s attorney general. He was born to become a public figure.

“I did some things I’m not proud of when I was younger. Took the political calculus too far and traded what I wanted to be for who I wanted to be with.” Shep reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “If Jared is the one you want to be with, don’t mess it up with this campaign business. This is the most important race of my life, but it’s also
your
life we’re talking about. Your happiness.”

I blink back more tears and raise my head to face him. “It’s not just about Jared.” I let out a shuddering breath and then rip off the Band-Aid. Hard. “I’m pregnant.”

Whatever I expected in this frozen moment—anger, confusion, blame—coming from Shep, I never expected his smile to light up the whole room.

“You’re … you’re really? Oh, Grace.” Shep shoves back his chair and comes around the conference table, pulling me to standing and embracing me. “This is … this is just amazing.”

I squirm in Shep’s crushing hug, shocked into speechlessness. When he finally releases me, there are tears in his eyes too.

“I’m so sorry,” I mumble, still anticipating his disappointment in me for royally fucking over our campaign. “I never intended this to happen. I don’t want it to ruin your chances, or our chances. But I’m afraid that everything you worked for and fought for to get here is going to be destroyed if you don’t let me resign.”

Shep shakes his head vehemently. “Of course I’m not going to let you resign from the campaign. We’re partners in this.” A shadow crosses his face. “But you don’t plan … I mean, are you going to keep the baby?”

“Yes.” This quiet word has never held more power.

Shep exhales. “Thank God. Grace, I’m so happy for you.”

“But I could be showing by Election Day.”

“Doesn’t matter. I want you on my team.”

Shep’s absolute faith in me, his willingness to stand by me, nearly brings me to my knees. If only I could be certain that Jared feels the same way.

“Does Jared know?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know if he even wants it. We didn’t plan this. We didn’t try. I’m afraid to tell him and he’ll—”

Shep cuts me off. “If that bastard isn’t a million times happier than I am right now, he’s not the man I thought he was. He’ll want this child more than he’s ever wanted anything in the world. I promise you this.”

“You can’t make that kind of promise, Shep. He sees the world in black and white. He’s always focused on the next campaign, not on being a family man and settling down.”

“That’s because his own family was broken.” Shep pulls out the conference room chair and has me sit, then takes the chair next to mine, knees on his elbows, his expression serious. “Tell me what you’re really afraid of.”

I’m afraid of being
Late Night
’s punching bag.

I’m afraid I’m not cut out to juggle politics and motherhood.

“I’m afraid Jared will reject me and our baby,” I whisper, just one dimension of the fear gripping me. I’m also afraid we’ll become like our parents, his absentee father and my angry mother, blaming the child we never intended for the happiness we never realized.

“Why would he do that?” Shep probes.

“Maybe he’ll see this pregnancy as a betrayal.”

But the minute the word is out of my mouth, images from my first meeting with Jared rush to mind. He met me under false pretenses. He said we’d just have one night, no strings and no regrets. I had no idea that he
knew me
for who I am as a congresswoman, not just as a pretty lady to pick up in a bar.

And in the beginning, he fucked me just to see if he could control me. Jared’s confession of that was nearly our undoing.

But we got past it.

As if he’s reading my mind, Shep says, “I think Jared’s done enough things that he’s not proud of. I’m not going to let walking away from you be one of his mistakes.”

I huff, a single disbelieving sound. “I don’t think he’ll let you decide that any more than he’ll let me decide that.”

“He deserves to know he’s a father,” Shep counters. “When are you going to tell him?”

“I don’t know. I just know I’m not ready yet. I can’t bear for him to pretend he’s happy about it if he really doesn’t want it. Or me,” I add in a small voice. “I have to know how he feels before he makes up some bullshit reaction he thinks I want.”

Shep cocks his brow and smiles at me. “When have you ever known Jared to bullshit? Or pull punches?”

I tuck my chin, imagining the worst possible reaction from him. “That’s what I’m afraid of, too.”

Shep touches my cheek, a tender gesture. “Listen to me. I’m proud of what you’ve accomplished so far and I promised to stand by you. I’m going to keep that promise. But you’ve got to tell Jared.”

“I”—I hesitate—“I’m not ready.”

His eyes narrow. “You tell him, or I will. I’m not going to let you ruin your future with Jared by layering on too many lies, or hedging too many bets. You’ve got to live and love bravely, more brave than you feel right now. I don’t want you to ruin things with Jared before you’ve even had a chance to let them properly start.”

He squeezes my hand and his pep talk starts to sink in. Maybe I
can
do this. “Thanks, Shep.”

He chuckles. “You stay healthy and keep your eye on the ball. We’ve got a new wrinkle with the debates coming up. It’s time to kick some Republican ass.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I crawl into bed before ten with far more questions than answers.

What should I say at the speech at Trey’s school to make the kids wake up?

Would paying off my mother buy her silence?

And the most important question:
How can I tell Jared? And when?

A click and a rasp signals the opening of my condo’s front door. There’s only one person the Secret Service would let through at this hour.

Jared.

His name is a sigh, a soothing reminder that I can be grounded. I pry open one eye and in the dim light from the hallway see him kick off his shoes before he climbs into bed behind me, the big spoon, and curls his body around mine.

“You came.”

“How could I not?” Jared breathes against the back of my hair, his words intoxicating with their pull on me.

“I looked for you at HQ. Before I left. I couldn’t find you.”

“I had to run out to a meeting. No way to drop you a note without being obvious.”

“You could have texted me.”

“You could have kept me in the meeting with Shep.” His tone has a brittle edge and now I know why he jetted from the campaign office without a word. He was angry.

“Are you still mad at me?”

“It depends. What did you talk about?”

That question seals my lips and I chew on the inside of my cheek, grateful I’m facing away from him in the darkness so he can’t see the expressions move like clouds across my face.

Fear. Uncertainty. Doubt. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Jared tightens his grip around my middle, unaware his hand is just inches from that tiny human who will burst into our lives in seven months’ time. “Aren’t we past this? Do we really have to keep secrets from each other?”

Yes. Yes. Yes.
“I just don’t want to talk about it. It’s not like it’s a secret.”

“Does it have something to do with Marilyn Garcia making a surprise visit to your office today?”

I draw a sharp breath. “How did you know about that?”

“Come on. You think I don’t watch our linked calendars? I came back from New York early and I was going to drop by, but Trey added her sometime before my plane landed. She wasn’t on your calendar when I took off.”

He nuzzles my ear and his hand on my stomach begins making long strokes up and down my abdomen, from between my breasts down below my navel, each time drawing the spiral tighter. I’m more keenly aware of his presence, his drawl, his scent, like late summer grass and leather.

“Talk to me.” Jared’s voice is a gravelly command.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” I hate that I’m stonewalling him, about not one but two secrets. But I’m Charlie Brown waiting to kick the football that Lucy will pull away—each time I’ve reached for him, begged for him to give me something more than the promise of the short term, he’s stopped us short.

He’s pulled away the football.

And with it, my security that I can tell him everything, give him all of me, and he’ll be there.

For better or for worse.

For richer or poorer.

For whatever the hell disaster is coming at us next.

Jared’s hand snakes down my thigh, finding the hem of my nightshirt and climbing back up my stomach, this time on my bare skin. His thumb brushes the outside of my breast and my nipples harden. His breath on the back of my neck sends a shiver through me.

He pulls me closer and I feel his erection through his pressed trousers, the crinkle of his starched shirt rolled to his elbows, dark hair on his arms curling from beneath the cuffs.

“If you won’t talk to me, be with me.” Jared’s whisper is heavy with desire, his hands move more insistently as they find the apex of my thighs, my damp panties betraying my want. “Just let it go.”

I freeze as he touches me, feeling like an imposter in my own bed. Feeling like I’m betraying him as I let him touch me without knowing.

I have to tell him.

“Stop.”

Jared’s hand freezes over my folds, then he rolls my shoulder so my back is on the bed and he can get a good look at my face. “What is it?”

His eyes are dark, indecipherable.

“I just can’t … right now, there’s so much…” I’m at a loss for where to begin. “I just can’t right now.”

“You can’t have sex?”

“No. I mean yes.” I shake my head in frustration. “It’s complicated.”

Jared pulls back from me until he’s sitting up on the bed and the physical rift between us feels like a chasm. “Darlin’,
complicated
is the tax code. It’s the budget and Social Security. It’s foreign policy and the IMF. But we”—he wags his finger between our faces—“are
not
fucking complicated.”