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"Who can also do just as much––maybe more––good with his money than any of the other schmucks," I insisted, pushing him lightly against his chest. "You and I both know that politics in this country is basically bought and sold. You can be the buyer."
He sighed, wove his fingers with mine, and then pulled me back down so I was lying on his shoulder. Under my ear, his heart beat robust and true, and his arms wrapped around my back, engulfing me with their strength.
Underneath that facade of strength, I knew Brandon was an intensely vulnerable person. But in the end, I couldn't make this decision for him––I could only be there to support the choices he needed to make.
He grunted, pressed his face into my shirt again, then sat back in his chair so I could see his face.
"First thing's first," he said with a lopsided smile. "Let's get through the rest of the trial, and then we'll see what happens after the campaign is finished. Who knows? Maybe I'll really like being mayor. Maybe it will all be worth it."
I gave him a small smile back, but I wasn't so sure anymore that the campaign itself wasn't the main source of his anxiety. More and more, it looked that way. Still, I didn't say anything. I figured he needed to make the decision on his own.
~
