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Jen’s eyes opened before he could lift her. “Hey, you’re up.” She placed a hand on his cheek and smiled. “How are you feeling?” she asked, sitting up.
“Better.” He moved onto the sofa next to her. “I’m sorry about tonight.”
As he expected, she shrugged a shoulder. “No big deal. We’ll have other Friday nights together.”
He disagreed. “Yeah, it is a big deal. You came up so we could go out and have fun, not so you could act as my nurse. And then fall asleep on my sofa.”
“Wrong. I drove up to see you, and I am seeing you. Besides, sometimes we all need someone to take care of us.” She jabbed him in the shoulder “Even you, Buster.”
“Buster? You can’t think of anything better?”
“Maybe after you win the election, I’ll change it to Senator Buster, but until then you’ll have to live with plain old Buster.”
“I guess that means I should come up with a nickname for you too?”
She considered his words before answering. “You can, but I warn you I have veto power over anything you come up with. So it better be something good.”
“Don’t worry, it’ll be better than Buster.” He moved in to kiss her but then remembered his mad dash to the porcelain god hours ago and stopped. Instead he kissed her hair. “I’ll make tonight up to you soon. Promise.”
“How about instead you promise to take a leave of absence from Homeland Security? You’re stretching yourself way too thin. I bet you haven’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks. Between the hours and the stress, it’s no surprise you got a migraine today. Keep up this pace and you’ll probably be getting a lot more. And I won’t always be here to take care of you when you do.”
Carl had given him a similar lecture during their last meeting. The biggest difference between his and Jen’s was the tone. Jen’s voice contained worry and compassion; neither emotion had been present in Carl’s.
“I’m thinking about it.”
“Brett, I’m serious. Winning the election won’t matter if you’re too run-down to take office.”
“I am too. I’ve been considering it all week. And you and Carl are probably right.” Brett stood and held out his hand. They were both tired, and Saturday was going to be a long night. “Ready for bed?”
“Are you trying to change the subject again?” Although she hadn’t answered his question, she let him help her up.
Another time he’d have to say affirmative, but not tonight. “No. I’m tired and you were just asleep. I think we both need some rest. But tomorrow before the fundraiser, I’ll spend some time thinking about what you said.”
“You do still look awful.” She tugged on his hand. “C’mon, Buster, I’ll tuck you back into bed.”
***
No matter the time or place, Brett preferred to drive himself. Despite Carl’s suggestion he hire a car for tonight’s event, he drove them into Boston. After handing the waiting valet his keys, he walked around and opened Jen’s door.
“Ready?” He gave a slight nod to the reporters and photographers waiting outside the Harbor House.
“As I’ll ever be.”
“Just remember what I said. If anyone asks you a question and you don’t want to answer, simply say you have no comment.” He whispered the words as he slipped an arm around her waist. “I’m the one running for office. They can bother me all they want. They don’t need to annoy you too.”
“I think the media disagrees with you.” She leaned closer when she spoke, her breath a warm caress against his skin. “I’ll try not to let them bother me.”
He didn’t like it, but he knew she was right. “There won’t be as many reporters inside.” His press secretary had granted access to only a select number of media outlets, leaving everyone else to hang around outside for whatever leftovers they could get.
Several reporters called out to them as they walked toward the main entrance. He paused long enough to give a few short answers and tried to ignore the cameras around him. After all the media attention he’d received over the past few weeks, he had a better understanding of the hell the media regularly treated his family members to. Next to him, Jen remained silent, her back as stiff as a kitchen table.
“Mr. Sherbrooke, besides your parents, will any members of your family be in attendance tonight?” a reporter called out as they r
eached the door.
“Will President Sherbrooke and the First Lady be here?” another reporter asked.
He expected a few of his relatives would be here, including his parents, but he didn’t intend to share the information. “I’m not certain.”
