Everyone laughs, keeps packing up and heading out. I’m still processing that Maxim knows I don’t celebrate Thanksgiving. I must have forgotten we discussed it. I thought I remembered everything about that week.
“Maxim, Lennix,” Owen says. “Could you two hang for a minute?”
Maxim glances at the Richard Mille watch on his wrist. “I can give you twenty of them. Jin Lei has my car downstairs and a flight waiting.”
“You’re leaving DC?” I ask, before I catch my damn tongue.
Maxim goes still in the middle of pulling on his leather jacket and glances up at me, one brow lifted.
“I mean,” I say hastily. “I just wondered in case we need anything or have questions.”
He pulls his jacket on and grabs his iPad from the table. “Kimba has my itinerary and knows how to get in touch with me.”
One of my conditions. He doesn’t say it, but the silent truth travels the length of the table.
“Yeah, I’ve been in contact with Jin Lei,” Kimba affirms, smiling. “I know how to find you.”
He smiles back with an ease that doesn’t exist between the two of us anymore. He hasn’t made any attempts to contact me. Everything I’ve heard of Maxim comes through Kimba or the gossip columns. There seems to be a report about him on D.C.’s social circuit every night. The latest morsel involved him kissing a Russian ambassador’s daughter. I’ve been convincing myself all week that I don’t care. He does think I’m with Wallace. Maybe he decided to give up?
And shouldn’t I be happy if he has?
“Well, my mama has started cooking Thanksgiving dinner,” Kimba says, rubbing her stomach. “I can already smell the turkey and dressing.”
“Oooh, and string bean casserole,” Howard groans.
“Mac and cheese,” Kimba bounces back as they leave the conference room.
“I’m gonna go check on the twins,” Millicent says. She pauses at the door and turns to me. “Thanks for not backing down in the meeting, Lennix. Some people blow smoke up my ass because of who I’m married to.”
“First of all, if I blew smoke up your ass,” I tell her, “it would be because of who you are, not your husband. And second of all, I got no smoke, lady.”
We exchange slow, genuine smiles. She nods and leaves the room.
“So what’s up, brother?” Maxim asks. “I got a plane to catch.”
“Where are you going?” Owen asks, frowning a little.
“Berlin, Prague, Stockholm,” Maxim says. “Then it gets fuzzy and you’ll have to ask Jin Lei.”
“When do you come back to the States?” Owen asks. “Will you be home for Christmas?”
Maxim’s face shutters. “You already know the answer to that, O. I’ll make sure to send the twins their gifts and—”
“And your mother?” Owen demands. “When will you see her?”
“I see Mom more than ever,” Maxim fires back. “Just not with him. He doesn’t want to see me.”
“And he says you don’t want to see him.” Exasperation and frustration war on Owen’s face. “You two are the most—”
“My flight, Owen,” Maxim interrupts. “I’ve adjusted everything for your campaign. The least you can do is not give me hell when I need to get back to my life every once in a while.”
“You know that’s not . . .” Owen takes a deep breath. “Anyway, okay. Do what you need to do, but we’ll be at Mom and Dad’s. Our kids need to know their grandparents and their uncle.”
Maxim remains silent, the muscles of his body seemingly drawn tight and preternaturally still. Owen finally nods and steeples his fingers in front of him on the table. I feel like an interloper witnessing this family discord. I wonder if they’ve forgotten I’m here, but then Owen turns his attention to me.
“My father will be there when I announce the exploratory committee.” His words brook no argument, and I don’t give him any.
“Yes, sir,” I say. “I expected as much, but I hope you don’t want him to speak or—”