I can’t help but realize I may have sacrificed the one thing I wanted for a bunch of things I didn’t. I should’ve done exactly what she told me to in regards to the election—trust my instincts and that my ideas are enough to win.
I should’ve done the same in my relationship with her.
My life falling apart hurts worse than anything I’ve ever dreamed I’d feel.
“Fuck,” I say to the darkness around me.
Graham and Lincoln are trying to find her, Graham letting me know that he didn’t have a plan for once because, as he put it, “Who would’ve thought she would’ve left you?” Not me. I suppose I thought she knew what she meant to me, but obviously she didn’t. Or I gave her enough of a reason to question it.
That’s a mistake I won’t make twice.
I just hope I have another chance to prove it.
I pick up my phone and dial Graham. He answers immediately.
“I didn’t find her yet,” he says, forgoing a hello.
“You know,” I say, “I’m tired.”
“Tired of what?”
“Of everything. I’m sitting here thinking about all the things I want to do in my life, and yeah, I’m on the path to get some of them accomplished. But if I get in office where I can actually do those things and I’m set up so I can’t, what’s the point?”
“You’re talking about the Land Bill?”
“Among other things. There’s a chance I could lose Alison over this,” I say, holding a breath.
He sighs. “She told Lincoln she just needed a little bit of time. Don’t panic. We’ll find her.”
“I know we will. But that doesn’t mean she’ll consider me a good enough prize to risk everything she’s giving up to be with me.”
“You aren’t a prize. That’s your first mistake,” he says.
“Fuck off, Graham.”
He laughs harder and I eke out a smile.
“What are you getting at, Barrett?”
I take my shoes off the table, something my mother would have a fit about if she could see me, and stand. “I’m saying I’m tired of doing everything the way I should or the way I’m told to. If I’m going to do this—politics, campaigns, relationships—I want to do it on my own terms. I want to do it my way and then, you know, I sink or swim on my own laurels.”
He doesn’t answer, probably thinking I’ve been drinking.
“I’m not drunk.”
“No, I know that.” He pauses and exhales. “Okay. I agree. Let’s do things your way. It’s your career, your life to fuck up if that’s what happens. So what do you want to do?”
“Schedule a press conference for me tomorrow. Early.”
“Me? I don’t have the contacts for that, Barrett.”
“Call my publicist and Rose. They’ll get the word out. I want to go on record first thing.”
“Are you absolutely sure? You do realize this conference has the potential of doing more harm than good, right?”
I nod. “Yeah, I know. But if I lose this election based on who I am, then did I want it to start with?”
Graham sucks in a breath. “What about Alison? I mean, depending on what you say, there’s a chance you could lose her over this too.”