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Mark: This is fucking thorough, man. Do you need a lecture on my security?
Robbie: Negative, Mr. Coffee
Mark: That’s on you, asshole. Clean up my order history.
Robbie: I can’t espresso how sorry I am.
Robbie: Anyway, Rise & Grind!
Mark: You should be ashamed of yourself.
Robbie: I have bean, and I will be.
Mark: Bye, nerd
Robbie: Roasted!
Mark: Stop
Robbie: Tell me you love me a latte
Unknown number: You can’t block me, Mark, don’t be a drip.
Mark: How can I make this end.
Robbie: So bitter!
Mark: I have a gun under my pillow and I’m pulling it towards my head.
Robbie: While that idea percolates, let me remind you she can’t know that you know about the dossier or trouble will BREW.
Mark: Ugh. Understood.
Robbie: Have a great day, don’t get mugged!
I groan again. Robbie cheers me up like no one can. I’m almost smiling at his awful jokes. Except this is fucking bad.
The coffee shouldn’t have been discovered. The money discrepancy this Vix person noted almost makes me uncomfortable. And her note about my second network. But…they didn’t get close to anything that matters. Every politician has skeletons in their closet, but I’ve gone above and beyond to keep mine hidden. Robbie doesn’t normally miss. Maybe this Vix person really is exceptional.
It’s disturbing to see so many photos of myself. Especially the ones where I am a child. I scan by those quickly. My chest tightens when I see Melody’s pretty, young face. I wonder where she is now, what she’s doing. I wonder if I’d recognize her on the street. I shake off the thoughts. They’re not productive.
I shower quickly, as always, and get dressed in a full suit, as always. I’m back to my usual settled, calm self by the time I text Ric.
But then my intercom rings. The gate guard is at the door with a delivery. I nod and thank him as I rip open the bulky envelope. Then there it is, beaming at me like a flashlight, tucked inside a satin lined black velvet box. The engagement ring. And fuck if it doesn’t look made for her. I know she will like it. I know it will look great on her. I know she will try not to blush or over-smile as she puts it on.
And I hate that I know all those damn things.
I cannot spend any more energy on this distraction. She is not in play here. She’s barely a blip in the stands, while everything,everythingis finally starting to happen on the field. A game isn’t even a good analogy, but this has to have all of my focus. My whole head, and heart, if I have one. I doubt it.
Either way, I have to shut her out.
•••••
Hell.
This is hell.
I did not plan to spend the entire day at the estate in meetings with dear ol’ dad—Senator White Sr—and his cronies. Plus, stab me in the face, it’s hot. And I’m calm on the outside, but almost jumpy on the inside. I know the guest list tonight is important and I need to constantly scan the crowd. Plus, I have to propose, which makes me feel a dread deep in my gut like I’ve swallowed a boulder.
