Page 134 of See You Next Tuesday

“Sweet heavenly chorus of angels, that’s what I like to hear.” Kira beamed, and all around her, everyone started talking and moving again, getting back to what they’d been doing.

Preethi rushed over to him. “Gabe, thank god you’re here. Do you remember the name of that reporter from the Sun? The one who wrote that amazing profile of JS on the union picket but they canned it because she left to work for the Post? I can’t find her anywhere.”

“Tina Reynolds,” Gabe said. “And you can’t find her at the Post because she works for the Times now.”

“Yes! That’s who we should put in touch with the teachers’ union for the education piece, Simone,” Preethi said as Simone opened her laptop and started typing.

“Emailing them right now,” Simone said. “I’ll call to follow up in the morning.”

“Hey, Gabe, I’m Hugo. Can I talk to you for a second about that user flow you guys had on your website for volunteer placement? I want to replicate something like it for the delegates, but I can’t figure out how to start the prompt.”

Gabe turned to see the guy he’d once worried would take Anya away from him. Gabe smiled broadly, remembering how passionately Anya had been kissing him on her childhood front lawn not ten minutes ago.

“Sure, man,” Gabe said. “Happy to help.”

“No,” Kira interrupted. “Sorry, delegate head count takes precedence. Hugo, can it wait until after Gabe talks to Dale?”

“No problem. I’ll start drafting language for tomorrow’s social posts?”

“That’d be great, thank you.”

“Gabe, welcome back!” Walt clapped him on the arm.

“Walt.” Gabe hugged Anya’s dad. “I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s pretty crowded around these parts, but someone has to make the coffee,” Walt quipped. “I think I still have some of that kind you like—dark roast, right?”

“Um, yeah, if it’s no trouble? Or I can put on a pot?”

“No you can’t, you’re busy electing a president.” Walt waved him off and headed into the kitchen.

“Anya, can we look over page four of the speech?” Jo had her head buried in a stack of pages as she walked downstairs. “I had a thought for how we might adjust the foreign policy section—”

But she stopped talking when she saw Gabe, and so did everyone else. He straightened his posture.

“Hi, Senator.”

“Now, this is a good way to start the week.” She broke into a wide smile and came over to him. “Are you ready to get to work?”

Gabe looked over at Anya. She was smiling so big she looked like she might burst.

“Yes, ma’am,” Gabe said. “Let’s go fucking win.”

“I hate Election Day,” Anya muttered for what felt like the fiftieth time since she woke up.

“Same,” Kira mumbled.

“Same,” Simone groaned.

“I dunno.” Gabe beamed. “This Election Day isn’t so bad.”

He gave them all a goofy smile—the same stupid smile that had been plastered on his face every day since he and Anya had gotten back together and he’d come back to work for Jo. Anya had stared at that perfect smile all through convention week, and when they won the nomination on the third ballot (in fairness, they’d all been smiling then—and sobbing, hugging, screaming, cheering), when he took a demotion to be Jo’s traveling press secretary so he could be on the road with Anya while Preethi ran the comms shop at campaign headquarters, when he and Anya shared crappy hotel rooms in every swing district in the country, and he was still smiling now, at 4:07 p.m. Pacific Time on Election Day, just under an hour before the East Coast polls would begin to close.

“I can’t deal with how happy you are right now,” Simone said. “I need a coffee.”

She got up, and Kira followed quickly, leaving Anya and Gabe alone—well, as alone as they could be in a glass-walled conference room in an office teeming with people.

“Have you seen the turnout numbers from Bucks County?” Anya was glued to her phone. “They’re big—but maybe not big enough. Do you think it’s too late to send out another call for phone-bankers? We could post on social—”