Laughing, I settle back on the sofa with the letter from the Hornets in my lap. “Well, thank you for saying it.”
“Thank you for calling me and allowing me to say it.”
“Did I have a choice? You softened me with beautiful flowers and Major League baseball, both of which were unnecessary, for the record. I had to call and thank you.”
He takes a deep breath. I close my eyes and imagine his face, the way the lines crinkle around his eyes before he speaks.
“You are very welcome,” he says softly. “I know ‘sorry’ is an overused term, but I am. I just . . . I suppose I normally don’t have to jump through a lot of hoops to get a woman to agree to spend time with me. And I just figured . . .”
“You figured I would cave to your charm and be an easy lay?”
“No,” he rushes, but stops in his tracks. “Well, maybe. Obviously I was wrong.”
“Obviously.”
I hear papers shuffling in the background and the sound of an incoming email dinging. Wondering where he is and what he’s doing, I catch myself.
I’m calling to thank him. That’s it.
“Alison,” he begins, his voice a little shaky, “can we start over? Well, not start over, exactly. I think I did pretty well at the event. I’d just appreciate having another opportunity to . . .”
“Not be an ass?” I suggest.
“To win back your vote,” he volleys back cheekily. “I’ve regretted letting you leave the Farm without apologizing to you a million times these last few days. For not remembering who I was dealing with and treating you accordingly. Like a respectable woman that is honoring me by giving me her attention.”
I smile. I swoon. But I don’t lose my head. “You know what that sounds like?”
“A good idea?”
“A perfectly executed line.”
He sighs into the phone, the sound of his breath rapping against the speaker making me shiver.
“My son will be home soon,” I say, stretching the truth, “and I have a few things I need to do. So, if you don’t mind, I need to be going.”
“Sure.” His tone is dejected and it tugs at my heartstrings a little bit. I have to resist the urge to do exactly what he wants and bend to his will, to agree to whatever proposition he puts forth. “I hope you and Huxley enjoy the tickets.”
“Thank you again,” I reply, my voice softer, lacking the spunk it had a few seconds ago. “It was entirely too kind of you.”
“It was my pleasure.” He waits a beat, to see if I actually end the call or give him something else to go on. “If you ever change your mind about dinner, the invitation stands.”
“Thank you. Have a good evening, Barrett.”
“You too Alison.”
I end the call and settle against the cushions. In another time and place, maybe I would take a risk with the dashing politician. He makes me laugh and our banter is so, so easy. I can’t ever recall feeling quite like this. But fear is a powerful emotion, maybe the most powerful of all, and I can’t get around the risk of losing everything I’ve built. Again.
Barrett
“WELL, TO WHAT DO I owe the pleasure of finding you in my office?” I ask, shutting the door behind me. It’s been a long day, probably because my focus has been shit. Hearing Alison’s voice, and her rebuff of my advances again earlier this afternoon, didn’t help. But what it did do was reinvigorate me. I haven’t found the way to win her over yet, but I will. I have to. She’s the only person that makes me smile. I’m not sure what that means or how long it will last, but all I know is that she gives me a spark I haven’t found anywhere else, and it’s something I can’t shake. Something I don’t want to shake.
Graham is sitting at my desk, going through a massive stack of papers. “Dad. You can thank him.”
“Not that it doesn’t thrill me to find you making yourself at home,” I say, tossing my briefcase on a chair, “but why?”
“I’ve been appointed your chaperone tonight.”
“Chaperone?”