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“And that’sthe damn problem,” Theodore says, looking a little angry. “You actuallyfollowed someone else’s suggestion for the first time in like, what, your life? And you look…”
I don’t even feel the usual irritation I do in his presence. “Let’s get this over with,” I say, pushing past Theo. “The press is outside, aren’t they?”
The press.There’s a nick in my chest. I knew from the outset thatEnchantéwould send one of their staff to cover this. Seeing anyone wearing anEnchantébadge, no matter how little I know them, couldsend me over the edge I’d been balancing on the past few weeks.
Theo holds me back before I can take a step forward.
“Brandon,” he says, his eyes intent on me. “You look…”
“What?” I grunt. “Too dapper?”
Theodore doesn’t crack a smile. “Half-dead,” he says, the seriousness of his tone sending a chill down my spine. “I told Alex that he was crazy for even suggesting contrasting suits to you because he’d lose his head before you went with it. But you agreed without an argument, and you’re here.And you look like you haven’t slept in ages. What the hell is going on? Do you need to leave?”
I shake my head and cut him off. “No, I can't leave. I have a job to do, and I need to be here. But thank you for caring.” I manage a small smile, hoping to convey my gratitude.
Theodore doesn't look convinced, though he doesn't push the matter further. Instead, he takes a step back and gives me a once-over. “Well, if you're going to stay, you need to at least try to look presentable. You look like you've been hit by a bus.”
I glance down at myself and realize he's right. My clothes are wrinkled, my hair is a mess, and there are dark circles under my eyes. I must look like a wreck.
“Let me help you,” Theodore says, reaching out to straighten my collar. I flinch away from his touch, suddenly feeling too vulnerable.
“I can do it myself,” I mutter, grabbing at my collar and tugging it straight.
Theodore sighs and steps back, his hands held up in surrender. “Fine. But if you need anything, anything at all, you know where to find me.”
I nod and watch as he disappears into the crowd. As much as I appreciate his concern, I know that there's nothing he or anyone else can do to help me. I'm stuck in this haze, lost in my own thoughts and feelings.
I take a deep breath and try to shake myself out of it. I can't let this affect my work. I need to focus on the election, on the campaign. That's what's important right now.
But even as I try to push Georgina and my own emotions to the back of my mind, I know that it won't be that easy. The haze still lingers, and I can't shake it off.
I raise a brow.“And why on earth do you think I would need to leave?”
“To go talk to Gigi, for one,” he says tentatively. “That, or…”
I feel relief as threads of anger weave through my heart.Finally, an emotion worth feeling.
“Let’s get this bullshit over with,” I tell him, pushing past him with a more determined force and striding out on the stage.
The small tent is crowded with around two dozen journalists and individual photographers who start clicking madly as soon as I step onto the stage. I can't help but notice that the press interest we've garnered is largely due to the drama that has plagued Theodore's campaign. A pang of discomfort shoots through my chest, fueled by thoughts of Georgina.
I force myself to stop dwelling on her and focus on the task at hand as Theodore joins me on stage. He shoots me a look of pure anger before turning his attention to the cameras and flashing a fake smile.
IfI could pretend that easily, I could force myself to get over Georgina. I could persuade myself that all we share is an unborn child and nothing more.
The press tour starts with a journalist from the New York Post asking Theodore about one of his campaign promises. Theodore switches into politician mode, speaking persuasively about the subject.
I watch him, surprise penetrating through my doom. About a year ago, when Theodore told me of his desire to run for Congress, I’d been amused. It hadto be a sign of midlife crisis, a sign that he was grasping and clutching for something to reignite his life’s purpose.
And yes, he stumbled. He thought it would be best to canvass for votes by flirting with women and by buying up magazines that criticized him.
But he is differenttoday. He is surer of himself, more intent on bringing change to New York.
And while I’m proud of him, this makes me even more aware of my gloom. It makes me more aware that in two days, if Theodore wins this election, Iwould be next to go through a midlife crisis. I would have no idea whatto do with my life.
“Mr. Brandon?”
I snap to attention. The journalists are all focused on me now.
