It was the day before the election and I was tired, but buzzed. The last few weeks had gone by in a blur, with more and more people signing on to my campaign. It was a relief when new donors and supporters came onboard, beyond the initial wave of college kids. I’d come this far practically alone, but now that I had people behind me, I could almost see myself winning. Almost.

I attended two city council meetings, trying the entire time to picture myself up there, with the others. The resulting image was a mixture of What am I getting myself into? and the excitement of effecting actual change. What would it feel like to have my voice heard?

That opened a whole new line of worry, of course—what if I said stupid things?

I finished teaching my preschoolers about the Antarctic, canvassed a hole in my sparkly purple sneakers, and spent most of my time mooning over Zach Hubler. Even when I wasn’t with him, I relived every last conversation, every necking session. The phenomenal sex.

The younger campaigners spoke about Zach—or Horde, which made me roll my eyes—in hushed voices and regarded me as some kind of emissary from their god. I was tempted, once or twice, to mention that he lived in this town, a few blocks over, just to see how they’d react, but that would be a betrayal.

When I Googled his real name, I got a few random social media profiles—none of them him—and Horde brought up too many hits: a movie, software, some gaming thing I didn’t even try to understand. There was nothing about the world of finance, nothing about my Zach.

I was waiting for the bus, bone tired, when I texted him that my cell was dying and I’d see him tomorrow night. He replied with a photo of a champagne bottle, two glasses beside it. I smiled and nearly bumped into someone.

“Oh, sorry.”

“Hey, congrats!” replied the woman. It took me a couple seconds to place her as one of the girls from that group of canvassers who’d pointed my way to Zach. It was a little under a month ago, but it felt like years.

“Thank you,” I said, shaking her hand. “It’s a little premature for that, though.”

“Yeah, well, at this point it’s just a matter of getting them to the polls.”

“You think?” I asked, still not convinced.

She and her companion exchanged a look.

“Uh, yeah,” said the guy, and he might as well have tacked a duh onto the end.

“That’s what happens when you have Horde on your side.”

I blinked, my brain fuzzy and tired and a beat too slow.

“A finance wizard?” I asked, shaking my head, maybe trying to knock some sense into myself.

“Sure. And the baddest hacker out there,” said the woman.

“He hacks for good,” the guy chimed in, young and awe-struck. It was hot out, but his zeal sent shivers down my spine.

“He’s like a Robin Hood hacker. Total genius.”

“Steals from the filthy rich kinda dude.”

“Yeah. Untraceable.”

“A ghost.”

“He wants you to win, you’re gonna win.” The girl looked at me. “So, congratulations, Councilwoman.”

I was breathing hard now. Confused and scared—spooked, actually—and holding knowledge that I suddenly wished I didn’t have.

“You’re saying he rigged the election?”

“He wouldn’t do that.” She shook her head.

“But he’d make sure the best person won.”

I could barely whisper. “How?”

With a casual shrug, she dismissed the whole thing. “He can spot a bad guy a mile off.”

What did you do, Zach? I didn’t want this. I didn’t want this at all.

The bus chose that moment to pull up, thank God. I waved a vague goodbye and climbed up, barely noticing Milton. I sank into my usual seat, my mind going crazy. I pulled out my cell, opened up a webpage and typed in Horde. Hacker.

“Hey lady,” Milton said from the driver’s seat. I set my phone in my lap and gave him my attention. “Looks like you’ve got this one in the bag.”

“You think?” I was shaking.

“Gave Rylie a run for his money, that’s for sure.”

I nodded, lifted the phone, noted the red bar where my battery life should be, tried to focus on the swimming words and put it down again, shoving it between my thighs.

“Gave?” I asked.

“Can’t believe he dropped out like that.”

“What?” I pressed my fists to my eyes, then pulled them away again. “Say that again?”

“Didn’t hear? Your opponent dropped out. This afternoon. Press conference and everything. Caught embezzling from his firm. Some whistleblower stepped in and sent all the info to the papers.”

My stomach tightened hard and I doubled up. Embezzling? Oh, God. Did you do this, Zach?

“You okay, Veronica? Need me to stop?”

“Yeah,” I managed, not sure which of his questions I was responding to. I inhaled. “I know it’s against policy, but could you let me out here, Milt?”

“No problem.” He stuck out his hand and I went by and reached out to shake it, but he clasped mine in both of his. “See you at the polls tomorrow. Take care of yourself, girl.” He tightened his hold, waited for me to meet his eyes and then let go. I’m on your side, was the subtext. So many people on my side.

I choked back whatever emotions were trying to punch their way through my chest and up my throat, and tripped down the steps to the sidewalk.

Probably close to a minute passed before I realized where I was—not too far from Zach’s house. My eyes slid down to my shoes, glowing purple in the street light. Would they make it? Probably. Whether I would was a different matter entirely.

Ignoring the new blisters that had formed beside the old, bandaged ones, I walked to his house, where I stood out front and waited.

No lights on, which wasn’t a surprise. He didn’t need them, although there were lamps in every room now. He’d done that for me.

A man was accused of embezzlement. And, if I were to believe those kids, Zach had done that, too. For me.

Oh God, I liked him.

Loved him.

No tears right now. I needed that emotion gone. I needed the truth.

I went up the walk, onto the porch and knocked, hating the excitement that the sound of his steps set off in me, the weight it put in my belly.

He was beaming when he opened the door and, damn it, that broke my heart. He turned, expecting me to follow, and when I didn’t—I couldn’t, my feet felt stuck to this porch—he turned back, a quizzical smile on this face.

“Veronica?”

“Is Horde a hacker?”

He stiffened, but didn’t respond and I couldn’t help but notice how he looked today—half-Clark Kent, half-Superman. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

“Is he?” I asked and then, even though it hurt. “Are you?”

“That’s not—”

“Are you a hacker?”

He swallowed. “Can you come in and talk about this?”

“Where’s your computer? Where do you work?”

“In the basement.”

“Show me.”

“You sure you want me to?”

“No!” I yelled, tripping a half-step away. “No, I don’t want that, but I also want the man I’m with to be above the law. I can’t be with someone who makes a living doing illegal things.”

“I don’t.”

“Then what’s up with the hacking?”

“I’ll explain. But you have to come in.”

“No. Just tell me one thing.”

He sighed and turned away and I knew he was guilty. I knew it and it crushed me to smithereens.

“Didn’t you think I could do it on my own?” I whispered. “Didn’t you think I could win this election without cheating?”

He stiffened. “You didn’t cheat.”

“No, but you did.”

“It’s not cheating if it’s real.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Riley has spent the last five years embezzling from his fancy uptown firm. He’d have gotten caught sooner or later. I just made sure it he fessed up to it now. That’s all.”

Tears were leaking out of my eyes now. They dripped down my face and I didn’t care. “I wish you hadn’t done that, Zach. I wish you could undo it.” I hiccupped, he reached for me, and I shifted out of his reach. “I’m not okay with this. I don’t even know if I can stay in the race now. I can’t win like this, I—”

“Don’t. Don’t drop out. Please. I’ll apologize. I’ll turn myself in.”

“No.” I backed up, ignoring his outstretched hand because I wanted it so badly. “No. You do you and I’ll do me. I just wish you’d given me a choice, you know?”

I turned to go, these big, painful, wracking sobs taking over my body and, when it looked like he’d follow me, I ran, fast and hard. Even that made me feel guilty because he couldn’t follow me. He couldn’t.

I remembered that champagne and those glasses and thought about how badly I wanted to celebrate. How badly I wanted to win tomorrow, a clean win instead of something that felt just as dirty as Rylie’s embezzling.

* * *

I won the seat, and it was terrible.

I forced smiles, shook more hands, bought an adult pair of shoes—no sequins on these—and sat in my first city council meeting, wondering if I should admit to them that I was nothing but a sham. Unqualified, incompetent, and only here with the help of a hacker.

Nevertheless, I persisted.

Rylie spent another day or two in the news, but then even that faded. His wife’s family had money, which made it even worse in some ways. To steal for your family, I could understand, but not when you didn’t even need it. At some point—maybe two weeks into my term—I began to feel like I was making a difference. My voice mattered.

It was a Wednesday. I knew this because I liked to give the kids an extra recess on Wednesdays—no reason hump day shouldn’t be something to look forward to, right? We were wrapping it up when Katie, the school’s assistant principal, and the friend I’d texted that first time from Zach’s house, turned up on the playground. She called me over with a lift of her chin.

“We’re calling an all-school meeting.” She gave me a mysterious look from under her lashes.

“What’s up?”

“Let’s get these guys over to the library.”

“The library?” I frowned at her, no clue what was going on, and then gathered the kids into their single-file line.

“Big announcement,” she said.

“You’re seriously not gonna tell me?”

Her lips tightened into a knowing smile. “Nope.”

The buzz, when we got there, was huge. Kids shrieking, adults murmuring. Beyond the usual throng of children, I spotted the Mayor, some people with cameras, a few in suits, and in the middle of the group.

“Oh, my God.”

“That’s him, isn’t it?” Katie leaned in to say into my ear. “That’s the hottie from the text. The reason you’re all depressed right now?”

I nodded, incapable of more. I was frantic. What was he about to do? And, at the same time, I could see he looked good in a suit. Better than good, he looked like home. It made me want to cry and hug him. It made me wish I could take it all back.

By the time the principal quieted everything down, I could barely hear for the pounding heartbeat in my ears.

“We are here with some great news. As part of a larger donation to the city and the entire school system, our school has received a generous gift. This summer, we will be closing down the TJ Elementary School Library in order to perform some much-needed renovations and an expansion. This is only a small part of the donation, which you’ll be hearing more about in an official communication from the school board. All thanks to Mr. Zach Hubler, who has asked to say a few words today.” She stepped away from the podium. “Mr. Hubler.”

Carefully, Zach took the two steps to the podium, where he slid one hand over the wood to the mike. He leaned forward. “Th—” He cleared his throat and started over. He was shaking—I could see it from here—and I wanted him to stop. You don’t have to do this! I wanted to scream. Instead, I waited, breath held.

“Thank you, Principal Walker.”

His voice, oh God I’d missed that voice, a little gravelly and low, but also calming, despite the nerves he must have, being in front of an audience. When he’d talked, it settled me. I closed my eyes and wished us way from the crowd.

“I won’t take up much of your time.” He swallowed and I could see how nervous he was. I wanted to hold him. “I’m here pr-primarily for the sake of one of your teachers—a woman who happens to be on our city council and who also happens to be the love of my life.”

A wave of sound rose up, whispers swelling into chattering, faces turned to find me in the crowd. I fought an urge to sink to my knees and hide amongst the four-year-olds, but if he was here, daring to come out, for me, then I could stay here and take it.

“Veronica Cruz has taught me so much.”

I gulped at the double meaning to those words, glanced around and, thankfully, didn’t see anyone leering. They couldn’t possibly know how we’d spent our nights together.

“She taught me the importance of honesty, the importance of facing your biggest fears, and, above all, the importance of doing what’s right, even when it isn’t easy. Even if it’s the hardest thing you’ll ever do.”

It occurred to me that he couldn’t possibly know if I was here. Maybe, if I told him I was, he’d stop and we could talk this out in private. It was okay. I’d forgive him. I’d love him forever.

“Today, I’m here to dedicate the new library to Ms. Veronica Cruz. I’m well aware that she would hate to have her name on a plaque beside the door, so I’ll let the city or the school board or whomever decide what name to use in the end. Hopefully you’re here, Veronica. If you are, I have something to say: I’ve left the old me behind. At least part of him—the part you had a hard time with. But I can’t seem to move forward without you in my life. I’d ask you to marry me, but I’m pretty sure you’d tell me it’s premature.”

The voices got louder at that and I went from blushing to a cold sweat. What are you doing, Zach?

“I’ll ask you this instead.” He went on and I could do nothing but stare at him, my eyes big, unblinking, my face hot and dry, my chest so tight I couldn’t suck in a breath. “Would you go out with me? On a date? Dinner or a movie or whatever you want.”

He waited, the crowd quieted, except for a couple kids, and turned to look at me. Damn it. Was he seriously doing this? Was he really asking me out, here, in front of all these people?

No, Zach. Please don’t do this.

Beside me, Katie whispered something and elbowed me in the ribs. How was he doing this? The man who could barely leave his house on his own.

Someone poked my hip on the other side. I looked down to catch Jaime Girón’s face and dipped to hear what he had to say—yeah, and also to hide.

“Yes, Jaime?”

“You like that man, Miss Veronica?”

I couldn’t answer. The words were too big, too strong to fit in my mouth. I nodded instead.

“You gonna say yes?”

I finally managed to whisper. “Should I?”

He nodded earnestly, and leaned into my side and I wanted to hug him hard.

I stood and spoke aloud. “What about the school lunch debt from this year?” If I’d thought people were shocked earlier, now they tittered and pointed and overall had a cow, but frankly, I didn’t care. I had eyes only for that man up there. “Did you cover that, too?”

Zach stood there grinning like a four-year-old. “Yes, ma’am. Set up a yearly lunch scholarship fund moving forward, too.”

I bent my head to catch Jaime’s eye. “You think I should do it?”

At his nod, I lifted my head and answered. “Dinner.” I said, loud and smiling and, God, stupidly happy. “Friday.”

“You’re on,” he responded as the crowd erupted around us.

* * *

Maybe a date wasn’t the best idea in the world—especially since word had gotten around town and pretty much everybody spent the entire time staring at us.

Then again, who cared? I was pretty sure I’d never been so happy in my life and it would take more than a couple eavesdroppers to destroy that.

“You didn’t have to do all that, you know,” I told him.

“Yes, I did.”

“But the illegal activity—”

“I told you. I’m done with that. I’m an above-board philanthropist now.” He pushed out a shaky-sounding breath; even after an hour and a cocktail, he seemed nervous.

“You okay? We can go to your place if you want.”

“No.” He put a hand on the table and slid it across, palm up.

I didn’t hesitate before putting mine in his. Of course I didn’t. How could I when this person was everything?

There was deep tremor in his hand, a testament to how difficult this was.

He said, “We’re doing this date thing.”

“It can’t be easy for you.”

“I’m not worried about them,” he indicated the room and I swear a couple heads hurriedly looked away. “I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be. You had me at… Well, honestly, you had me. I just needed time.”

“And you weren’t comfortable with the Horde thing. I get that. You’re a lawmaker. Your principles are important.”

“I guess.”

“Hey,” he tightened his fingers on mine. “Don’t get iffy on me now. I like that side of you. The side that makes me want to be a bigger, better man.”

“You are a good man.”

“And you’re a good woman.” We smiled at each other for a few seconds, and probably would have kept on doing so if the waiter hadn’t arrived with our entrees.

He disappeared and we started eating. A couple minutes later, I told Zach, “I would have come back, you know. Even without the grand gesture.”

“I didn’t want you to.”

I put down my fork. “Why not?”

“You know how the win didn’t feel right to you, with my nudge?” I nodded, which he must have gleaned because he went on. “Well, if you’d quelled that part of you in order to come back to me, then I wouldn’t have felt right about it. I wanted it to be you, not a part of you. Not you with conditions, despite what I’d done. I wanted this.”

“A clean slate.”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you, Zach.”

“No, sweetheart. Thank you.”

Okay, no way was I crying here tonight, with an audience of half the town to witness. I sniffed back my tears and shoved a forkful of salmon into my mouth.

When he spoke again, Zach was quiet.

“Remember the honeysuckle, that first night?”

I could almost smell it when I answered, “Yeah.”

“You’ve changed it for me. Forever.”

“How so?”

“You asked how I knew you were beautiful? Well, to you, honeysuckle is pretty to look at and it smells lovely and whatever else you like about it. To me, it’s drenched with scent—heavenly—and, sure I can’t see it, but I can hear the bees buzz around it, the birds dip in for a taste. I can feel its beauty. When I was a kid, I wanted to eat it, to roll in all that heady perfume, to soak it in through my pores, but I know, from experience, that a light touch is all those flowers can take.”

“I’m not sure I…”

“You’re honeysuckle. You’re resilient and imaginative, you’re beautiful and strong. You’re everything I want. You fill up my senses, you make me happy. I want to dive into you, but I know I’ve got to do it the right way or I’ll crush you.” He chuckled. “And I want you to come back.”

“Are you saying I’m a weed?” I laughed.

“What makes a weed a weed, anyway?”

He reached out and stroked the side of my face, ran his thumb down my nose to my lips and cupped my cheek. I wanted to give him all my weight, wanted to sink into him. I wanted to be back on his patio with the honeysuckle air around me, him beneath me, my head on his chest, his heartbeat the surest thing in the world.

“I love you,” I whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank God.” He huffed out a breath that I thought might contain relief. “I was worried I’d have to run for mayor or something to get you back.”