Page 38 of See You Next Tuesday

“I’m not the one taking credit for other people’s ideas in the press!” Anya’s voice came out higher pitched than she’d intended.

“That’s what this is about?” Gabe laughed meanly. “Okay, Anya, I’ll call Politico and ask them to print a retraction. We wouldn’t have a campaign without some Reddit AMA, it’s your work of genius and the people yearn to know about it. I’m the problem here.”

“You’re both the problem!” Kira snapped. “This childishness has to stop. You don’t like each other? Who cares! I need you to do your jobs, have a good attitude at work, and stop distracting your colleagues and each other. Is that too much to ask?”

“No,” Gabe mumbled. He looked like a child who’d been scolded.

“I’m sorry, Kira.” Anya sat up straight and kept her tone calm and professional. “It won’t happen again.”

“Good.” Kira smiled—she looked immensely relieved. Her phone buzzed, and she glanced down at it. “I need to take this. Can you guys work out the email stuff without me?”

They both nodded and Kira headed out, leaving Anya and Gabe alone in uncomfortable silence.

“I really do need approval on this round of fundraising emails,” Anya finally said. “Simone needed the numbers yesterday, and we haven’t even sent the emails out yet.”

“Which is why I want Shawn to take point on approvals,” Gabe said. “I don’t want to hold you up, and it’s his job to handle things when I can’t.”

Anya rolled her eyes. “I know you’re so busy and important—”

“It’s not that,” Gabe cut her off.

Anya peered at him. “What do you mean?”

“It’s Jo.” Gabe ran his hand through his too-long hair—annoying, but he did look genuinely stressed.

“What about her?” Anya asked, unable to keep a note of suspicion out of her voice.

“I don’t get her like you do,” he said.

“What, the immigration vote?” Anya asked. “That was nothing. Everyone in the meeting agreed with you.”

“Yeah, but Jo agreed with you.” Gabe exhaled. “When I have to write speeches for her, it’s not that I don’t want to look at emails for you, or call a reporter for Preethi, or do whatever anyone needs from me. But I can’t. Because I have to focus on getting her remarks right.”

“This is the first time you’ve really cared what a candidate thought of you,” Anya murmured, a little amazed.

“She’s incredible,” Gabe said quietly.

“At least we can agree on that,” Anya joked, and Gabe laughed a little.

“So, the emails?” he asked.

“Shawn can approve them,” Anya agreed. “But he can not give my team writing feedback.”

“He won’t!” Gabe put up his hands. “I’ll tell him he can raise a message flag if he sees one, but it’s up to you how to rework it. Okay?”

Anya paused, then nodded. “Deal.”

“Good.”

Gabe reached out his hand, and Anya shook it. She couldn’t remember the last time she touched him—probably not since that night in Vieques? Her cheeks warmed, and he held her hand for longer than necessary, looking at her the whole time. There was something charged in his gaze—why wasn’t he letting go of her hand?

“Anya…” he said.

“Just don’t.” She looked down and jerked her hand back.

“Don’t what?” He looked puzzled.

“Whatever you were going to say—all this confusing shit between us, all this unresolved whatever this is—can we not? It’s fine. We don’t have to talk about it.”