“How can I talk to you? I’m all the way up here!”
“Come down,” Xavier said, gesturing. “Come on! It won’t be long. And hey. It’s private. This isn’t business. Just to be clear.” His smile grew larger.
“As long as you’re sure,” I said back, spinning around and winding toward the back of the apartment. Rachel stood in the kitchen, a cup of coffee still in her hands.
“Remember what I told you,” she whispered, bringing her arms around me as I pushed toward the door. I halted, allowing her to hug me and feeling the warmth of her friendship.
“I will, mom,” I teased, bursting through the door. “I’ll be right back!”
I wound down the steps, toward the front of the apartment building. There, standing by the limo, stood the President of the United States. He held flowers in his hands, and his eyes were geared only toward me. I calmed my speeding heart and placed a cool, dispassionate smile on my face. “Hey,” I called to him, taking long strides.
“Hey,” he answered back. He handed the flowers toward me, nearly touching my hands during the transition. In this moment, my mind had begun to spin once more. I knew that I wanted to see him, that I wanted to be with him. But wasn’t this far too complicated?
“I didn’t think you were home,” he gestured.
I shook my head. “I wasn’t. I took the elevator. I went to the grocery store.” The lines
were coming swiftly, coolly from my mouth. He had no questions, no qualms.
“I’m glad I caught you,” he said, his eyes unsure. A few feet behind him, the Secret Service agents looked on, beyond us. “I wanted to—I wanted to tell you I was sorry once more. I’ve been a mess, a completely terrible friend. I want to make things right between us. And I’m willing to do whatever I can.”
I blinked up at him, unsure of what to say. Of course, he was offering me his world. He was offering a time in which we could love each other, be with each other. But did I want that life?
My voice was hesitant as I brought the words forth. “I suppose we could talk it out,” I stated then. “I’d love to be friends.”
His eyes lost a small edge, a small gleam. “Friends. Yes. Are you free at all this week? I know you said you were taking a leave from the office, but—“
I brought my hand up and waved it to the side. I paused before proceeding, knowing in my heart that this was the right move. “Xavier. I don’t want to quit. This has been my life dream, from the beginning. I’d love to meet you for lunch. Does Monday work well for you?”
Xavier nodded subtly, looking at me with such earnestness.
“You haven’t told anyone I’ve quit, have you?” I asked him, worried suddenly. My heart leaped into my throat.
He shook his head, nearly laughing. “I didn’t want to face that quite yet,” he murmured. “Too much has been on my mind lately.”
“Well,” I sniffed. “We can work that out on Monday. At least some of it. I don’t know about the Chinese government or what you have going on in Russia. But I’m willing to learn; I’m willing to be there for you.” My voice was filled with tenderness.
He nodded. “I know. And I want to be here for you, as well. Which is why I want to talk to you about dealing with our little Jason problem on Monday, as well.”
I closed my eyes, remembering, in a great blast of regret, that going into work meant that I would have to see Jason once more. I could see his stupid grin, his fat, smirking cheeks. I shook for a moment, remembering the threats he’d thrown at me. But I had to be strong.
One of the Secret Service agents approached us then, and leaned toward Xavier. He murmured something about being outside, out in the open like this. Xavier brought his hand up, nodding. His eyes darted toward me once more. “I think that’s my cue.”
“I understand. You’re called,” I said, my voice chipper. My heart wanted him to stay by my side. My heart wanted me to demand of him how the hell we were going to stay together, with so much up against us.
“I’ll see you Monday?” he asked. He shot toward the limo, his eyes toward me.
I nodded, bringing the tulips up toward my face. “Monday!” I called to him.
I watched as the limo sped out of the apartment parking lot, out toward the freeway. I wondered what Xavier thought about in that moment, as he leaned his head back onto the limo headrest. I dreamed of a future in which we could be together, in which we could each live with equal political power. I dreamed of a future in which I could feel safe in loving him, in which I could hold his hand and speak with him in the open about anything and everything.
I turned and fled up the steps once more, anxious for the coming meeting with Xavier, and incredibly anxious to get back to work and clamber back into my career woman status. After all: I had been away for a mere few days, and yet: I already had the itch to keep moving, keep driving. As my mother once said, I could never stop the success train. When I felt boredom and stillness shroud around me, I was bound to take action.
Chapter Eight
The following Monday, I arrived back at the office bright and early. I tapped along, feeling such a vivaciousness about me once more. It was like I had been reborn. Everyone who saw me said hello, such surprise glimmering in their eyes. They all wondered where I had gone, why I had disappeared. Suddenly, I was back. Like a whirlwind.
I sat at my desk and peered across the many campaign workers, all of whom were working on the campaign strategy for the following year. It was a challenge for many of them, I knew. After all: this was often a first-job-out-of-college situation—a situation in which people were often in over their heads, scrambling to create something good for both the future of this presidency and the future of their careers. The campaign trail was only traveled so long.