The room erupts, and even the more staid party-goers seem to be affected by the youthful enthusiasm the students emit, and the energy skyrockets.
“If we get this much juice from the exploratory committee announcement,” Kimba says from the corner of her brightly-painted mouth, “imagine when he announces that he’s actually running.”
I nod my agreement, about to speak when I notice Maxim standing against the wall watching me. Before I realize what I’m doing, I take a step in his direction.
“Lenn,” Kimba says, jerking my attention away from Maxim and halting my steps. “Mark wants you in the back.”
By the time I speed-walk to the back and answer the producer’s questions, Owen is wrapping up.
“So over the next few months,” Owen says, “my team, my family and I will continue to kick the tires and see how far this should go.”
The students start chanting, “ALL THE WAY! ALL THE WAY!”
Owen smiles and holds up his hand to quiet the crowd so he can land the plane.
“There’s a lot ahead,” he says. “We hope soon to herald in a new era of politics in this, our great nation. Tonight, though, we’re heralding a new year. Grab a glass of champagne and find the ones you want to be closest to. I’ll be back in a few minutes to count in another great year. Thank you again for coming.”
I search the crowded room for Maxim, finding him still leaning on the wall with his arms folded, the ambassador’s daughter stuck to his side like flypaper. My hands ball into fists, my fingernails digging into my palms.
“Just staring,” Kimba says from beside me, “won’t get him.”
I didn’t even notice her come up, I was so fixated on them.
“What?” I drag my eyes away from the two glamorous people across the room, him a dark contrast to her fairness. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Come on, Lenn,” Kimba says, her usual no-nonsense tone somewhat gentled. “This is your girl. Talk to me.”
For a moment, I plan to ignore the frank sympathy in my best friend’s eyes, to tough it out and pretend I’m not in the midst of some kind of existential crisis, but I’m tired of holding this armor in place. It’s slipping anyway.
“He asked for another chance,” I say after a pause. “Maxim, he said he was young and stupid and made a mistake before. He asked me to forgive him.”
Kimba nods slowly, dipping her head to catch my lowered eyes. “And have you forgiven him?”
My laugh comes quick and hollow. “Well, yeah. I guess somewhere along the way, I did.”
“Praise Jesus. I was gonna give you ’til the end of this campaign, honey, and then smack some sense into you.”
“That won’t be necessary. At least, I don’t think so.” I glance across the room where he stands with the Russian princess. “If he’s even still interested.”
“Oh, he’s interested.” Kimba follows my stare. “He’s a patient man.”
“Not really,” I say with a laugh. “Quite the opposite, but he’s trying.”
“Then why keep him waiting? Talk to him. Tell him tonight.”
I glance at my watch. “The toast is in ten minutes.”
“The hard part is over for now. Owen’ll come back and do the countdown and then the New Year’s Eve toast.”
“And then the CNN interview,” I remind her.
She rolls her eyes up to Millie’s glittering chandelier and expels a lengthy sigh. “Screw it. I’ll do the interview.”
I press the back of my hand to her forehead.
“What are you doing?” she asks, her expression puzzled.
“Checking for fever.”