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It’s late when we badge into the command center. We’re between shifts, right at that time when there’s a lull and the White House is quiet. Henry and I get a few Heys as we walk in, but that’s it. We make it to my desk with no catastrophes.
For today, that’s a victory.
“Henry—”
“It’s been a fucked-up couple of months, Reese,” he says. “Things have gotten way, way out of hand.” He flicks a pen against his thigh. “You do what you gotta do. I’ll wait for you.”
“It won’t take long.”
How long does it take to break a man’s heart?
Longer, if I keep stalling.
When the elevator doors open on the second floor of the Residence, I hear Brennan. He’s on the phone, and I linger in the doorway of his office and watch him.
He’s beautiful, standing in the amber light thrown from the lamp on his desk. He’s in jeans and an evergreen sweater, and the color is a perfect offset to his dark hair and bleu clair eyes. He’s tossing a baseball in one hand. “We’re going to do this,” he says into the phone, and the conviction, the absolute steel in his voice makes my throat close. Merde.
He turns and sees me.
Mon Dieu, I love him.
Walking away is going to destroy me.
“Listen, Dean, I need to go.” He hangs up and strides across the room, smiling at me. I can’t smile back.
“What’s wrong?” He kisses my forehead, my temple, and gazes at me with such open adoration, I want to fall to his feet and beg. Beg for mercy, beg for his love, beg him to forgive me for what I’m about to do.
My fingers curl in his sweater. I want to give in. I want to feel the warmth of his skin. I want.
Wanting is what got me into this mess. I wanted, and I took, and now I need to right this before we can’t escape from what I’ve done.
I push him away, as gently as I can.
He takes a step back, confusion etched all over his face. His hands go to my wrists, and he tries to thread our fingers together. I don’t let him.
Confusion shifts to shock, slides into despondency. He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Don’t do this. Please, Reese. Please.”
“I have to.”
“Reese—”
“Mr. President.” He flinches. “What happened was a mistake.”
“A mistake?” He recoils, taking another step away from me.
I want to chase him. I want to bring him back. I want to swallow down the words I need to say.
“I was wrong to let us get as close as we did. I should have walked away from you, because what we’ve done will be the biggest mistake of your career if we get caught.”
His jaw works left and right. “I have a lot of practice keeping things secret.”
“Not like this. You don’t know what this place is like. Secrets in Washington are either currency or weapons. And if this gets out, you won’t be able to change the world if everyone believes you’re—”
Silence. Then, “I’m what?”
“That you’re sleeping around on the job. That you’re not strong enough to withstand the temptations of the office. That you’re a liar, and you don’t respect rules and regulations.”
“None of that is even close to true.”
