CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Elijah
Inauguration Day fashion!
What are Charleston’s celebutantes wearing to the ceremony?
—Avant-Charleston
I hereby solemnly swear to stay thick and juicy.
—Twitter @DuPontBadonk
I lean back from my computer and massage my eye sockets.
How long have I been staring at the damn screen? Days?
A check of the clock tells me I’ve lost track of time—again—and I need to leave now or I won’t make it home before Addison goes to sleep. But if I go home, I’ll start my first official term as mayor in the morning with loose ends and plans without a solid foundation.
Dammit, I can’t do it. I owe it to the people who elected me to mean what I say tomorrow. I’m not going to stand in front of everyone tomorrow without conviction.
Thinking of Addison bundled up under the covers makes me want to slam my head against the desk, though. That’s where I want to be. Need to be. She’s so sweet when she’s half asleep. Even when she’s digging her toes into my hips and urging me to go faster, that husky middle-of-the-night sleepiness in her tone has become my addiction. Lord, I crave her in all her forms. Seductress, friend, tease, champion, partner in crime, mean girl, lover.
No wonder the news outlets have no idea what to make of her. She has the ability to be several incredible things at once—and they can’t keep up.
Good. She’s mine to figure out. Mine to pin down. No one else’s.
With a half-smile on my face, I sort through the newspapers on my desk. Every morning, one of the aides drops them off, pertinent news stories highlighted. Addison is always a topic of interest, but depending on the news outlet, the coverage ranges from utter worship to outright derision. I loathe every single negative word printed about her, but it’s the damn nature of the beast in politics. There are just as many negative opinions about me—mostly from the miffed upper crust—and before that, my father was the target of disapproval.
In a city the size of Charleston, making everyone happy is near impossible. Hell, my approval ratings reflect that, don’t they? In one paper, my numbers are at an all-time high for any sitting mayor. In another, I might as well quit they’re so low. Focusing on the job is the only answer. Getting lost in the bullshit will only distract me and drive me crazy.
I’m just about to pick up the phone to call Addison when there’s a knock on my office door. Looking up, I’m surprised to see my mother framed in the doorway.
“Mom.” I stand up and come around my desk, kissing her on her offered cheek. “What are you doing here so late?”
“I remember the night before your father was sworn in.” She holds up a brown paper bag. “Macaroons are good for frayed nerves.”
I take the bag and immediately dig in, popping a cookie into my mouth and she laughs when I make a big show of enjoying it. “Want one?”
“No, those are yours. I have plenty at home.”
We fall silent after that, which is unusual. My mother usually talks a blue streak. “Is everything okay?” I ask, moving back to the other side of my desk.
She sits down across from me. “Having your father at home so much already has me at loose ends. I’ve cleaned every corner of the house—or supervised, anyway—I’ve lunched with every friend in my address book.” She shrugs. “I guess I was just hoping to be helpful.”
Having known this woman all my life, I know she’s leaving something out, but I’m not going to press. I’m on the verge of telling her I’ve got everything under control and she should go home and get some sleep…when I stop myself. Ever since Sunday night when I told Addison she didn’t have to go to the inauguration, I’ve wanted to go back in time and take it back. Not having her there tomorrow doesn’t feel right. Not at all.
She’s the most important part of my life and I want her standing beside me. I want everyone to see how proud I am to have her beside me. Being together means enduring the obnoxious questions from reporters and avoiding them can’t become a pattern. No matter what they say, we should be able to look one another in the eye and know the truth.
“There is something, actually.”
My mother sits forward. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” I look at the framed picture of Addison and me, sitting near the phone on my desk. It was taken mere minutes before I was inside of her for the first time and damn, I have to admit the photo is pretty indecent, but there’s something about her eyes that continues to draw me. She’s nervous. Breathless. Blissful. My memory of the night is wrapped tight in lust and the sensation of being caught off guard. Addison, though…her attraction to me isn’t catching her off guard at all. More like that night was the culmination of it.
“Elijah?”
“Sorry.” I cough the rasp out of my voice, but the spike suddenly lodged in my chest stays right where it is. “Addison was planning on staying home tomorrow. The sudden press coverage has been a lot for her to handle, but they’re not going anywhere. We’ll get through tomorrow, she’ll see it can’t touch us…and after that, facing them will be easier. She needs to be there. I need her there.” I gesture to the paperwork on my desk. “I’d bring her myself, but I’m going to be here until the ceremony. And she needs to feel welcome by more than just me.”
Color appears in her cheeks. “You’re asking me to bring Addison Potts to the inauguration?”
Something about the way she says Addison Potts drives the spike further into my chest. But I ignore it. My mother and father are cut from the same cloth—old school to the bone. To them, the scandal with Addison’s mother could have happened yesterday, it’s so fresh. But I’ve witnessed them with Addison. They see the same extraordinary woman I do. It’s only a matter of time before they set aside their doubts and accept her.
If they can’t do that, then I’ll demand it.
“At the very least, please encourage her to come. She already knows I want her there. Having it come from you might have more of an effect.”
“Encourage her.” One hand lifts to pat her hair. “I can do that.”
“Can you?” I ask slowly, wondering if I’m making a mistake.
Her nod is more of a shrug, but it’s an agreement.
I slide a finger across the screen of my phone and send Addison’s contact information to my mother. “Thanks, Mom. This means a lot to me.”
When I’m alone again in the office, my gaze strays back to the picture. To the girl sitting on my lap with so much naked vulnerability written on her face, I have to reach out and touch her, tracing my fingers over her lips. “Everything is going to be fine, Goose. Just have faith in me.”
*
Addison
Elijah didn’t come home last night.
Sometime around midnight, I got a text message.
Working through the night. Sleep tight, sugar. I’m thinking of you.
Over the last week, we’ve started talking more and more about his projects, the gazillion irons he has in the fire, so I knew going into yesterday, he might spend the night at the office. But that was before his mother and Naomi’s mother dropped a house on me. All the insecurities I managed to keep at bay after the market encounter are running amok and I can’t corral them, no matter how hard I try.
I’m pacing in front of the television, watching the coverage of inauguration day. There’s an hour to go before the ceremony and God, I don’t feel right dressed in leggings and a hoodie. Every time the camera pans through the gathering crowd, I notice the patriotic dresses and pressed suits. None of them know Elijah as well as I do, yet they’re present on one of the most important days of his life. And I’m here. With granola crumbs stuck to my clothes.
I stop pacing and take a deep breath. There’s no one keeping me here, is there?
No, there isn’t. I have a nice dress upstairs that can pass for posh in a pinch.
My feet remain cemented to the ground.
Elijah told me I didn’t have to attend, because he worried the reporters would make me uncomfortable. But…what if that’s not the reason? What if he’s aware of his approval ratings slipping and he’s trying to save my feelings? Because that would be such an Elijah move. He can’t fake how much he wants me. And I know he cares about me—it’s there in every look, every touch. His career, though. He can’t let it suffer, either.
Not for someone he doesn’t love.
A knock at the door jars me out of my downward spiral. Knowing it’s probably just Ricky and Kyle checking in, I jog to the door and glance through the peephole to confirm.
When I see who it is, I rear back with a frown on my face. “Um. Yes?”
“Addison, it’s Preston.” He stops there, as if it will be enough to make me open the door. Seconds later, he continues with a tight laugh. “You might remember me from election night. We were introduced by Mrs. Du Pont.”
“I remember,” I call through the door. “What are you doing here?”
“Mrs. Du Pont sent me to pick you up. She’d like you to be her guest at the ceremony this morning.” I watch in a stupor through the peephole as he checks his watch. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
Hope tickles my belly. “She…wants me there?” I press a hand to my thudding heart. “Does Elijah know?”
“Yes and yes.” I get the sense he knows I’m watching him, because he’s all smiles now whereas before he seemed anxious. “I’m happy to wait out here while you get ready…”
Guilt is like a mule kick to my side. If this was New York, I would leave his butt on the stoop to wait without giving it a second thought. For all intents and purposes, he’s a stranger. This is the south, though. I’m honor-bound by geography to invite him inside for sweet tea.
I finger the doorknob, but something won’t allow me to turn it. This is Elijah’s house. There are probably cameras outside. Inviting Preston inside when Elijah isn’t home would be stupid. And I don’t want to let him in, either. There’s something about him that rubbed me the wrong way on election night and I have to trust my first impression.
“You know, I think I’ll just drive myself,” I say, backing away from the door. “Thanks anyway, Preston. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
“You need security clearance,” he drones louder, sounding kind of smug and impatient now. “Virginia put my name on the list. You’ll need me to get in.”
Dammit, he’s right. Any other day, I could walk right into City Hall and go through a light security check, but today they probably have it sealed up like a drum. I can’t call Elijah and bother him when he’s reviewing his speech and preparing for the biggest moment of his life, either. I have no choice but to take the ride if I want to be there. And I do. I do so bad.
“I won’t be more than ten minutes! Promise!” I call, already turning to sprint up the stairs, my socks sliding on the carpeted stairs. With the decision made not to invite Preston inside, I finally allow the excitement to trickle in. Holy shit. Maybe I wasn’t imagining it yesterday when I sensed Elijah’s mother softening toward me. And Elijah wants me at the ceremony, too. I was wrong about everything. How was I so wrong?
I still haven’t moved my clothes into the master bedroom closet, so I take a hard right at the top of the stairs and dash down the hallway, mentally tearing apart my wardrobe. Black dress. Boom. Just throw the modest, black dress on, pair it with the pumps and swap my underwear for a thong to eliminate panty lines. I’m golden. That’s all I have to do. Thank God my hair is washed. I’ll brush it, clip it back and no one will know it was still messy from bed until eleven o’clock in the morning.
The transformation is completed in record time. I stop at the door to pluck my black pumps off the shoe rack, sliding them onto my feet for the first time in forever. Feeling armed and ready with my footwear in place, I’m out the door, keys and cell phone in hand.
When I get to the passenger side of Preston’s idling Lexus, a few cameras go off from waiting vehicles and I hesitate. Getting a ride from this man is the right thing, isn’t it? Preston might be kind of slimy, but he’s a trusted member of their staff. We’re only going less than a mile, aren’t we?
“Addison.” He rolls down the window and smiles. “We’re going to be late.”
“Right. Okay.” Chewing my lip, I climb into the car and buckle my seatbelt, giving Preston a hard look when he makes no effort to hide his lazy perusal of my body. My fist bunches with the urge to deck him, but I force myself to relax. I just have to get through the ride to City Hall. There’s an ugly voice in the back of my head, though, whispering he wouldn’t be that disrespectful to Naomi. He would be ma’am-ing the bejeezus out of her. Rather, she would already be at the ceremony. “Can we go, please?”
His tongue is lodged in his cheek as he pulls into traffic on King Street. I spend the ride with arms crossed so tightly, I start to worry for my circulation. Preston doesn’t say anything as he weaves in and out of traffic, showing his identification at certain checkpoints. I’m grateful for the silence, but I can’t shake the intuition that there’s something he knows…that I don’t. The closer we draw toward City Hall, the more my instincts begin to vibrate. People crowd the streets, watching giant projection screens that have been set up for the occasion. God. I’ve always known how Elijah’s role as mayor was important, but seeing it happen live, is amazing. I’m so proud of him.
The magnitude of that pride makes this Lexus feel very small—very wrong—in comparison.
Elijah’s reaction to his mother introducing Preston and me on election night comes roaring back, covering my face with flames. He wouldn’t want me in a car with this man. He never would have encouraged this. What is going on?
When we reach the security gate that leads to City Hall, Preston already has his badge out to hand to the officer. Okay, this is fine. As soon as we’re inside the gate, I can shake Preston and find a way to Elijah. Or if I can’t reach him, at least I can watch him get sworn in.
My game plan is blown to smithereens when Preston rolls through security, circles the parking lot and pulls to a stop at the curb outside City Hall. There is a veritable mob of reporters, all of them filming the arrival and I know…I know in that moment that I’ve been had. Big time.