The music started for the contest, and she cast her eyes around, looking for him in the audience. But he was nowhere to be found, so she sighed and settled in to watch, figuring she'd find him after when the crowd thinned out.
The contest positively dragged for her, however, because she wasn't interested. And when the final contestant came on stage, she leaned over and told Hannah that she was going to the ladies' room.
"No, wait."
"I really need to get out of this crowd." She slipped off her stool before Hannah could protest again, and was fighting her way to the back when the emcee, Beverly Martin, told the crowd to "give it up for our unexpected bonus contestant--Easton Wallace!"
She froze by the hall, then turned to see Easton strutting down the red carpet, looking more than a little sheepish.
He took the mic from Beverly, then looked out at the crowd. "Those of you who don't know me will probably Google my name after this announcement, but here it is. First, I'm officially pulling my name from any judicial races. Not just because of the recent scandal, but because it's not my dream. I got caught up in the frenzy and forgot to think about my real goals."
The crowd had gone silent. Selma stepped closer.
"I've always been a little scared to follow my dream. What I wanted to do seemed impulsive. But I've learned a bit about not being scared of making a leap. Not everything I do needs to follow lockstep on the corporate or legal path. And every once in a while I need to look around and see if I'm living the life I want ... or someone else's that I put on like a suit jacket. Because even if it fits perfectly, that's not my jacket."
He cleared his throat and searched the crowd--and the instant his eyes found hers, she felt the heat of connection. "I also learned that sometimes you need to make the grand gesture. To really throw yourself out there. Selma, baby, this is for you."
And then, with the audience howling and clapping, he yanked off his slacks--obviously the velcro kind that strippers wear--then repeated the process with his shirt until he was standing there in only his loafers and briefs.
She clapped her hand over her mouth so hard she almost bruised her lips, and as she tried to hold back laughter, she saw a dark line on his chest, but couldn't make out what it was from so far away.
"I walked away from one election today. Now I'm going to walk away from this one. Vote for me, don't vote for me. I'm done campaigning. There's only one person I want to win over. And I'm going to go see if I c
an do that right now. And I hope that this is some tiny bit of proof that I mean what I say."
He pointed to the dark line, and camera flashes popped.
"I had it done today. It's a tattoo. It says please."
Her heart skipped a beat, and she gasped.
"I got it for you, Selma. It means this--please let her be the one. And please let it last."
He inclined his head, and as the crowd started to applaud, he walked back down the red carpet, grabbing a duffel bag from next to the wall before turning toward her.
She met his eyes, nodded, then walked into the hallway, her heart pounding in her chest.
"I should get dressed," he said when he found her by the shelves of paper products outside of Tyree's office.
She shook her head as she looked him up and down, fighting her smile. Then she stepped forward and put her hand on the tattoo. "Scandalous," she said.
"I'm so goddamn sorry."
The apology filled her, and she smiled.
"I was an idiot," he continued.
"Yeah, you were."
"But I have something going for me."
"What's that?" she asked.
"I'm a hard worker. And right now, my number one priority is you."
"Oh, really?" She forced herself not to smile. "How's that?"
"I'm going to convince you to stay with me. That you belong with me. That I'm a man who will never stop doing whatever I can to make you happy. To make every day together an adventure."