The morning’s paper stares at me from the kitchen table. The high I’d been riding over the way things have been going with Barrett, including our agreement to go public yesterday, has now evaporated into thin air.

My lip trembles as I turn the page, and for the hundredth time, read the side-by-side headlines.

Mayor Landry is Off the Market and Mayor Landry Embroiled in an Abortion Debacle scream at me in black and white.

“What are you thinking?” Lola asks, her hand on my shoulder.

“I don’t know.” My voice sounds so weak, even to me, and Lola squeezes my arm. She came as soon as I called her earlier, right after my mother called me with questions about the articles. Of course, I had no idea anything was happening and when Lola brought the papers by, I was blindsided.

“Did you read this?” I sniffle, pushing back tears.

“Yeah. Over your shoulder. I’m sorry.”

“How could his own campaign do this to me? How could his own staff bring up everything I went through, paint me as some weak damsel in distress with a kid that needs saving? That’s not what this is at all!”

“I know.”

“And then this,” I say, feeling the disbelief start to wane and anger taking its place. “There’s a scandal about some ex he has trying to say he forced her to have an abortion?” I pace the kitchen, trying to wrap my mind around everything. “Do you think ...” I’m almost afraid to say it out loud. The mere thought burns my windpipe, scorches my heart. “Do you think he used me to make himself look better because he knew this story,” I say, jabbing the paper, making it pop, “was going to break?”

“I don’t know ...”

She watches me warily as my phone starts to chime on the table. I see it’s Barrett and I don’t want to talk to him. Not yet. Not until I make sense of this on my own. Silencing the call, I sit at the table and read over the words again.

“They call me straight out. They bring up the assault, they talk about Hayden’s record, what I was investigated for. And it quotes a Nolan Bicknell as the source, Barrett’s fucking campaign manager.” I look at my best friend, my jaw hanging open. “How did I not see this coming?”

Lola blows out a breath and sits beside me. “You don’t know what happened. Maybe it’s just a strange coincidence.”

I snort, knowing there’s no such thing in politics. Everything is calculated, moved like a chess piece. And here I am again, being used as a pawn.

Tears pool in my eyes as my phone rings again and I just shut it off. My homework is sitting beside it and I pick it all up and carry it into my bedroom, dumping it on the bed. I don’t want to look at anything right now—just the newspapers that remind me how stupid I’ve been.

“He used me,” I say, believing it more and more as time goes on. “He allowed them to do this. The press release was supposed to say we were together and to respect our privacy, not call everything out ...”

We both jump as a knock pounds on the front door. I know it’s him and I know even more I don’t want to see him.

“Want me to get it?” Lola asks, pressing her lips together. “Want me to get his balls?”

A grin touches my lips. “Just get it and tell him I’m not here.”

“Got it.”

She stands and marches to the door. I hear it swing open and his honeyed voice echoing through the hallway and around the corner to the table.

“Is Alison here?” he asks.

“Nope. She’s not here.”

“Where is she?”

“Not here,” Lola barks. “Do you not get that? Should I put it out in a press release loaded with bullshit? You know, speak your language? Will that help?”

“Listen ...”

“No, you listen. You need to go,” she fires back.

“I know she’s here,” I hear him say. “I need to talk to her.”

The sound of desperation in his voice breaks me and the tears begin to fall. I’m so hemmed up with feelings, the pain in the ass emotions I’ve tried to keep away.

Sitting quietly at the table, I hear them talk, their voices lowered, and can’t make out what’s being said until I hear Lo again.

“Leave, Landry.”

“I want to talk to her. Please.”

Everything goes quiet and I sniffle. It comes out louder than I expect and in my little one thousand-square-foot house, it doesn’t take much for a sound to make it to the front door.

“Alison!” he yells. “Talk to me, baby. Please. Give me five minutes.”

“What part of leave don’t you understand? Does it equivocate in your mind with loyalty or honor? Because you clearly have neither of those.”

“I had no idea,” he says, obviously to me. “I didn’t know Nolan was putting that out! I had no idea!”

I want to believe him, for things to go back to the way they’ve been, but doing that seems as careless as putting my heart out there to begin with.

“If you don’t go, I’m going to call someone to get you out of here,” Lola warns.

Scooting back from the table, I just want this to end with as little drama as possible. I don’t want anyone called, I don’t want a scene made. I just want to lick my wounds in peace.

I turn the corner of the kitchen and see him looking over Lola’s shoulder. His eyes are wide, his blue tie hanging haphazardly off to one side. His hair is a wild mess like he’s been running his fingers through it.

The sight of him twists my heart, but I have to stay strong.

This is the man that just fucked me over.

“What?” I asked, gathering as much anger as I can.

He storms by Lola, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. I take a step back before he reaches me and place my arms across my chest.

“Alison, let me explain.”

“Talk,” I instruct. “You have about three minutes to say your piece and then you’re leaving.”

His hands want to reach for me, his lips twitch to kiss me. He fights himself not to whisk me in his arms, but he doesn’t.

“I don’t know where to start,” he admits.

“How about the little article in the paper from your people that basically makes me out to be a pathetic, needy little gold digger.”

“It doesn’t do that!”

“No, it does. The entire article is slander!” The tears fill again and I blink back the red hot liquid. “I can’t believe you allowed that!”

“I didn’t,” he insists. “I had no fucking idea Nolan was authorizing that. We were supposed to say I’m involved with a woman with a kid and to respect our privacy.”

He gulps, his eyes begging me for forgiveness. It’s heartbreaking ... or would be if I weren’t so angry.

“Don’t think you can throw that out there and have me back down,” I say, glaring at him. “You just completely embarrassed me, having my name, my history in people’s mouths! People will be talking about me in depth now because of you.”

“Would you rather have snuck around and stolen minutes and hours with me here and there? Would you rather have looked over your shoulder for someone to take your picture?”

“No! I would rather have you just say what you said you were going to say!” I cry. “And then you say it at the moment this other article comes out? Tell me that’s not convenient for you.”

“Alison ...” He takes a few steps towards me, reaching for me.

I nod my head with a fury burning inside. “You just used me. I’m not a chess piece, Barrett—”

“You’re right,” he cuts me off. “You’re the damn board.” He shakes his head, looking defeated. “Right now, every move I make has you in the back of my mind. What happens between us if I win? What if I lose? How does this affect you? When can I see you again? Should I send you flowers? How can I make Huxley like me more than Lincoln?”

“He’s way hotter than you,” Lola interjects, making us both jump.

“Lo,” I sigh as Barrett glares at her. “Can you go? Please?”

“Are you sure? Because I’ve bounced people from events before.”

“I’m sure,” I say.

She shrugs and tosses her purse over her shoulder. “You just ruined the best thing that ever happened to you, you rich asshole.” And she’s gone.

The room seems to get smaller without Lola around. The air bubbles between us, like it always does, but maybe more heated because of the friction swirling around.

My mind is still reeling from the articles, from Barrett showing up here in the middle of the day when I know he has other things to do. I can’t figure out how to see straight.

“I had no idea that story was going to break,” he says earnestly. “I swear to God I about died when I saw it—next to the other article, no less.”

“But you knew there was a chance of it? You knew this existed?”

He nods slowly.

“But that little blip of your reputation had nothing to do with you wanting to use me to solidify that very thing in the media, right?”

“No, it didn’t. I swear to you.”

“This conversation, of me wondering if you just used me, is part of why I hesitated to do this. And I told you that, made it very clear, this is what I was fearful of!”

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about!”

“You’re not a stupid man, Landry,” I snort. “Drop the act. Stupidity is the first thing I’ve found that doesn’t look good on you.”

He throws his hands in the air. “Alison, this is my mistake.”

“You’re damn right it is. But that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow!”

“What do you want me to do?” he asks, tugging at his hair. “I don’t know how to fix this, Alison.”

“You can’t. Don’t you get it? The damage is done. You let this happen.”

“I didn’t. Nolan did, and trust me when I tell you he got his ass ripped twice by me already today. He was never authorized to put that information out there, and I’m considering firing him over it. I just can’t do that this close to the election.”

He rubs his hands down his face and groans.

“God forbid you stand up for what you want to Nolan,” I say. He blanches at my words and I shrug. “It’s true. You take his word, his ideas, like they matter more than your own. People vote for you, Barrett, not him.”

“You sound like Lincoln.”

“Well, Lincoln sounds smarter by the minute.” I take a deep breath and try to calm down, to focus on the problem at hand. “You’re here. I’m here. I’m giving you this chance to tell me about the abortion article.”

“It’s complete and utter bullshit.” His voice is unwavering. “She’s trying to extort me, and I won’t pay her off because it’s a fabrication.”

“How do you know for sure?”

He shrugs. “I guess there’s no way to know if she was pregnant, but if she was, she didn’t tell me. If she had, I would’ve stepped up and taken care of the baby. I never would’ve pressured a woman to do something like that. Ever. It’s a child ...”

He stops moving, stops fiddling with his tie. His hands drop to his sides and he looks at me, his green eyes crystal clear. “I can’t lie to you. I also can’t make you believe me, but I’m telling you the truth.” His gaze softens. “I’m glad I didn’t have a child with her.”

My breath stumbles, my eyes going wide because I can read into what he says. There’s so much innuendo laced through that handful of words that I’m afraid to even touch it.

“Having kids is something I’ve never really given a lot of thought,” he says, his voice soft. “I suppose I’ve always considered I would eventually, but never in the foreseeable future.” He takes a quick breath. “Until now.”

“Why now?” I ask, afraid to both ask it and not ask it, fearing the answer either way.

“Because you’re the only person I can imagine having my child.”

“Barrett ... Don’t say that. Don’t use words like that to try to make me forget what happened. I’m not one of your constituents you can charm with a smile and baby kissing.”

He takes a step towards me, his eyes on fire. “I’m not. I mean it.”

“Why would you want to think those things about a helpless girl you have to protect?” I bite out.

“Alison, stop it.”

“No, you stop it. I feel like I’m dealing with the mayor right now with your game face and pretty words and not my ...”

The air stills as his eyes remain as steady as his tone. “Your what?”

I don’t respond. I walked head-on into this and I don’t know how to backtrack out.

“It doesn’t matter how you fill in that blank because, like you said, they’re just words. And no word could ever fill the spot you take up in my life. So call me your boyfriend or the mayor or an asshole for what happened today, but I’m still yours, however you want to define that.

“You don’t have to like it or like me or take me back until this election is over, if you don’t want. If that somehow proves I’m not using you, then fine. You can humiliate me by saying that was all bullshit. Think of what you can do to my campaign, and you know what? I won’t care.”

“You know I’d never do that to you,” I say.

He takes a small step back and hangs his head.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispers, more vulnerability in his tone than I’ve ever heard. Gone is the confident man I know him to be, and in his place is a man that needs something that maybe I can give him. The sincerity in his voice pulls at me, tugs at my heart strings. I believe him because there’s no way, even a master politician like himself, could fake the genuineness of those words.

“I had to be separated from Nolan this morning. I was this close to losing it on him, Alison. Trust me when I tell you that is not what he was authorized to put out there, and if we weren’t this close to the election, I’d fire him. But the reality is, we are and I’m trying to be rational, to think about the big picture.”

Looking away from him because the hurt in his eyes is too much to see, I allow the pain of seeing the words in black and white pierce me again. I don’t want to feel it and it would be so much easier to pretend like it never happened. Falling into his arms, under his spell, would be head-and-shoulders more fun. But I can’t. Because I know where that leads. Because I promised myself I would be stronger. Because I deserve more than this.

When I look in his face, I can’t help but feel my heart break. I want to heal him, reassure him, but I can’t. Not yet. Not until I’m sure I can withstand whatever the future could hold if this doesn’t work out, because this pain? This is the tip of the iceberg if everything starts to melt.

“I know I come with a lot of ‘extras.’ I just ... I’m sorry,” he says again, the puffiness around his eyes making me wonder how much sleep he’s getting.

“I believe you.”

“You do?”

I nod, but take a step back. “I don’t think you knew about this. Not really. But you know what? It hurts all the same, Barrett.”

“I know. Let me fix it.”

A small smile creeps across my face and he doesn’t miss the sadness in the gesture. His eyes go wide, his face pale, and I think he’s going to lunge at me and hold me against him. A part of me wouldn’t object, but I don’t get the choice because he doesn’t move.

“There isn’t some magic button that can fix this,” I point out.

“I can’t take it back now. I can’t make this un-public,” he groans. “What do I fucking do? What do you want me to do?”

The lines of his face shine in the sun streaming through the window. I see every crease, every line of stress, every pinch of frustration in his handsome face. My lips want to press against the wrinkles, my hands crave to smooth out his anxiety, but I hold back.

“I want you to give me some time to think about this.”

“Why?” he says, his voice now touched with irritation. “You said you know I didn’t do this on purpose.”

“That’s true. But that doesn’t mean this didn’t just change the game for me.”

“This isn’t a fucking game,” he barks.

“No, it isn’t.” My voice stays calm as I watch him pace again. “But it is exactly, unequivocally what I didn’t want. It would’ve been different if the article was right, and people knew who I was and gave me space. Now they’ll look at me like I’m pathetic, and I refuse to be made the laughingstock of another city because of a man.”

“No one is laughing at you,” he gulps. “They’re laughing at me.”

A heavy breath leaves my lips. “The timing of this also makes me worried. Am I going to get asked about it or mocked because—”

“You better fucking not.”

We face each other, the room pushing us closer, but we both fight it. Me out of self-preservation, him out of manners. The clock on the wall ticks softly and every second we stand there feels like an hour.

His chests rises and falls, his lips falling open as his breathing quickens. His nostrils flare just a bit as he bites down and the muscle in his jaw clenches.

“I need to pick Hux up from school,” I say quietly. “He has a dentist appointment.”

“We haven’t finished talking.”

“We have to be finished for now,” I say, forcing myself to turn away from him. On some level, I’m grateful for the excuse to get away. I need to think.

“When can I see you again?”

I pick up my purse off the chair. The papers sit inches away and I make myself not look at them.

He takes a deep breath and blows it out. “If you want time to think about this, I get it. I’ll give you that.”

“I need to make sure this is something I can handle,” I gulp. “All of a sudden, this just got very real.”

His arms come around my waist from behind and I sink back into his chest. I breathe in his cologne and let it carry me away from reality for a few seconds.

“It was always real to me,” he whispers and kisses the top of my head.