Page 34 of Missed Communication
“No, you moved here for my job.”
Her words feel like a slap in my face. “What?”
“You want my job, right?”
“Why the fuck would I want your job?”
“When I go on maternity leave, Olivia wants you to take over for me.” Her words are soft, too quiet.
I slide my hand to her lower back and pull her to me to keep her close. “I don’t want to be Chief of Staff, I want you. If you want me to quit, I’ll walk out there right now, give my two weeks, and work somewhere else. But I made my decision to move here the minute after I said goodbye to you.”
“How can you say that? We only spent a week together.”
“If I mean nothing to you, then tell me you haven’t thought about me this past month or that I’m just hallucinating about how we would be so good together if you gave us a chance… Tell me you don’t want me.”
“I can’t tell you any of that.” Aubrey takes a deep breath, then releases my belt. As I let go of her wrist, she peels off her bandage, showing off her new ink as if it was a ring.
There’s a little red dot, but as I squint, I notice the detail—a tiny ant. “Fuck.” She covers her tattoo, bringing her joined hands to her chest. “No, baby.” I take her hands, bringing her knuckles to my lips. “I love it. I was just surprised because you asked me what my new tattoo was earlier.” I remove my watch, then carefully peel the bandage halfway. “I got it the day you left.”
“Abayarde,” she whispers to herself, carefully tracing the crimson rose with two little red ants on the leaf, then she asks, “Why?”
“Why did you?”
“I figured I would never see you again. It was to remember that week.”
“From the day I met you, I knew it would never just be a week.”
“Why are there two though?”
“Because I have a feeling that your baby is going to be just as fiery as you are.” I drop to a knee to pick up her clothes and help her into them, but her gasp gives me pause. I glance up, and her eyes are wide. “Don’t worry, mama, I’m not proposing today.”
“Oh, thank fuck,” she chuckles, returning my smile. I’m about to hold out her damp thong for her to step into, but then stuff them in my pocket. “Hey! I need those.”
“No, you don’t. You also don’t need this.” I hold up the shapewear. Shifting onto both knees, I lift her shirt higher, and press a single kiss to her belly. “I like you just the way you are.”
“You say that now, but when I’m big enough to warrant my own postal code, you’ll be singing a different tune.”
“Not likely.” I help Aubrey into her skirt, relishing the feel of her skin as I slide it up to her hips. Leaving it unzipped, I hold out each shoe for her to step into, then stand. “Give us a chance.”
“Can I think about it? It isn’t a no, there’s someone I need to talk to first.”
I reach behind to zip her skirt, then propping my hand above her head on the wall behind her, leaning in until my forehead rests against hers. “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”
18
Aubrey
There’s only one person who can help me with this—Kristin Proctor, the President’s Chief of Staff. Finn was kind enough to pass along her personal number after the summit in Ottawa, and we’ve spoken a few times since. Mostly revolving around policy President Taylor would like Olivia to champion, but she’s had her own relationship drama and understands what I’m dealing with.
She picks up on the second ring. “Aubrey,” she greets, her tone friendly but professional.
“Hi, sorry to bother you, there’s been a complication.”
There’s muffled talking, as if her hand is over her phone, then she tells me, “Okay, I’ll call you back when I get to my office in a few minutes.” After what feels like an hour—not six minutes—she calls me and I immediately pick up. “Talk to me. Are you having issues with rolling out the expanded lunch program?”
“No, this is more of a personal call.”
“Ah. Well, let me guess, the hot Canadian? Which one is giving you grief this time? The puppy dog Isaac Banks, or the tall drink of water that had you all twisted up after the summit?”
