Ann

It's one of those days when he's out all day, working, while I'm home by myself. I went for a quick run after he left for the day, but other than that, there's nothing on my agenda. After my little fire disaster a few weeks ago, I've actually managed to cook and serve him a few proper meals when he gets home in the evenings, but those remain an exception. I've never been much of a cook, and I always blamed it on my stressful life and financial limitations, neither of which holds true for my everyday life now. As it turns out, I'm just unskilled and not very creative in the kitchen. I'm very low maintenance, having lived off ramen noodles for most of my adult life, but even when I experiment, I can't come up with much besides pizza or pasta.

He doesn't care. The first time I had a meal prepared for him when he got home from work, he cast me a suspicious look as if I was about to poison him, reassuring me that this was in no way what he expected of me. He compliments me on even the most simple dishes, but I know he only does it to be polite. He enjoys taking me out to fancy restaurants a lot more, and to be honest, so do I.

Despite the vast size of the penthouse, there's also not much cleaning for me to do, because he hires staff for that. I always try to be out of the house when they show up because I feel terribly awkward when there's someone scurrying around the place, doing things that I could be doing just as easily, and I'm simply lounging on the couch like some kind of Beverly Hills housewife.

I know things will change eventually. We're spending more time at his campaign headquarters already, and while his public or semi-public appearances are still few at this point, they will increase in number in just a few more weeks. I will also have to prepare for more than just standing at his side, enduring superficial small talk. I've already been briefed on his main political stances and the potential areas of his campaign in which I could play a more prominent role. Jared was sitting next to me when his campaign manager first mentioned the possibility of me campaigning by myself at the League of Women Voters. I turned around to try to read the look on his face. It was obvious that he was hoping I would agree to do it, but he wanted to leave the decision up to me.

I still don't know what to do about it. This is big. I thought this would just be about me being his plaything at home and something pretty to have on his arm when he had to appear in public. I never imagined that I would be asked to speak on his behalf. He must trust me a lot if he's willing to put this much responsibility in my hands.

His trust means a lot to me, but it also makes me feel worse about the notes I’ve been writing about our relationship. I've been writing almost every day since I've moved in with him. At first, my writing was mostly an outlet, a way for me to cope with this situation. But day by day, I saw the journalist coming through as I wrote. My notes are no longer just reflections about what happened between us and how I feel about it. More and more, they've progressed into their own narrative and evolved into what resembles an article or editorial story. I'm distancing myself from the writing and slowly turning it into something else.

I'm turning it into something that I could sell.

It's not like I'm actively planning to sell him out like that, but I know that I could. With what I know about him, and the more I learn about his personality, his darkness, his weird obsessions by the day - I could destroy him.

And he has no idea.

I'm in the middle of another writing spree, recording the events of last night, when I receive an unexpected e-mail.

It's from Brandon.

"Can't reach you by phone. Your contract ran out. You need to come and clean out your desk asap!"

Fuck! I completely forgot about my desk at the co-working office. I was so occupied with everything that went on between me and Jared that this part of my previous life totally slipped my mind. Just like I forgot that I had to switch off my old phone after Jared gave me a new one. I never informed anyone about my new number because I hadn’t thought it was necessary. I had pretty much no social life and the few acquaintances I'd made since moving to the city probably didn't even notice that I seemed to have disappeared into thin air a couple of months ago. It's kind of sad to admit, but true.

I check the time. It's not even two in the afternoon, so there's still plenty of time for me to get to the co-working space today. It's not like I have anything else to do and Jared won't be home before six or seven, if then. It's probably best to get this over with.

My reply to Brandon is just as short and to the point as his e-mail was.

"Sorry about that! Will come over later today!"

Right after I'm done writing.