“You okay?” Nathan asked.
I nodded and pushed my chair back. “Just have a lot to do,” I said.
“Let me know what you need me to do, okay?”
“I will,” I agreed and then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, I leaned down and kissed him. Because even if it was only temporary and we were just playing house, I was damn well going to pretend it was real for as long as I could.
I’d deal with the consequences later…once Nathan was gone and I had to go back to the way things were.
The way they’d always be.
“No, tell me you’re not…a channel flipper,” I groused as I watched the image on the TV screen switch a mere second after the channel was changed. Not even long enough to figure out what show was on the screen.
“Shut up,” Nathan murmured as he elbowed me.
Somehow, we’d ended up sitting side by side on the couch, despite there being several different pieces of furniture for us to spread out on, and we’d migrated toward one another until Nathan was leaning against my side.
Just before dinner, Nathan and I had sent out the agreed-upon emails to his assistant, campaign manager, and the rally organizers, telling them Nathan was feeling well enough to attend the rally on Saturday. I’d embedded code into each email that would allow me to tell anytime it was opened and by whom, so we’d know if Nathan’s assailant was watching them or not. So far only his campaign manager and the rally organizer had viewed the email, so I’d settled in with Nathan to watch something on TV while we waited for the final email to be viewed before heading to bed. Our plan was to leave for Charleston in the morning. We’d spend the day at Nathan’s house getting Ronan’s men installed so that some were watching the house from the outside while one secured the inside. I’d have a couple more men backing me up at the rally. As soon as I’d told Ronan what I’d needed, he’d gotten it for me within a matter of minutes. Even with five men at my disposal, he’d told me he could get more to me within a matter of hours if I thought it was necessary.
I didn’t.
But it sure as hell felt good to know Nathan’s safety now lay in the hands of several capable men instead of just mine.
“How about this?” Nathan asked.
I glanced at the TV and barely refrained from rolling my eyes. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“What? It’s cool to see how much they’re able to sell the house for after they fix it up.”
“Pass,” I said.
Nathan made a rude sound, but changed the channel anyway. He began flipping again, but stopped suddenly on a news channel. He stiffened against me and then sat up.
“And I think the fact that Mr. Wilder hasn’t been seen or heard from in nearly a week should have the good people of this state wondering if he’s fit for the demanding challenges of this office.”
I knew who the man was – Lawrence Braxton, the incumbent Republican Senator for the state of South Carolina. The same man whose seat Nathan was running for. The arrogant-looking asshole had a smug look on his face as he spoke with the reporter interviewing him.
The reporter, an older woman, said, “Mr. Wilder’s campaign has said he’s been battling the flu this week. Do you believe it’s something more, Senator Braxton? Do you believe he’s starting to crack under the pressure?”
The man let out a raucous laugh. “Now don’t you go putting words in my mouth, young lady,” he said with his best Southern drawl. “But I do have to wonder if someone with no political experience and who seems to volley on every position you all ask him about…well now, should he really be given the responsibility of speaking for our great state in the mire of Washington?”
The interview ended and the anchor in the news studio began talking about another story, so Nathan changed the channel, but stopped flipping through them. I sat up and used my fingers to brush some hair behind his ear, even though it didn’t need it. It was just an excuse to touch him.
“You okay?” I asked.
Nathan nodded. “I think that’s part of the problem. I am okay.”
“What do you mean?”
He was silent for a moment as he stared at the TV. Then he turned to me and said, “In the past, I would have been on the phone to Preston strategizing a response. But…I just don’t care. What does that say, Vincent?” he asked. “About me? About my campaign? About why I’m really doing this?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know what you mean, Nathan,” I admitted.
He sighed. “Yeah, me neither, I guess. I just…”
“Just what?” I prodded.