Disclaimers et al. in part 1 Acknowledgements: I am forever grateful to the exquisite Christine for being a fabulous beta. And to the invaluable, phenomenal, fantabulous, Kerry-she knows all the reasons why I am indebted to her-I can honestly say, without her, I would not be writing fic anymore.
Mike, Donnatella, James-Congressman Rippon -- and I. Sitting together. Drinking coffee.
My best man, my wife, and her fiancé.
And me.
Isn’t this the modern day conundrum?
I’m trying my damnedest not to glare at her, because really, right now I just want to rip into her. I’m thinking it’d be a pretty good floor show-I’m told I can be quite entertaining when in a rage. She had the nerve to read me a riot act about cheating and drugging her and all the other crap I had to listen to this morning and she’s engaged?
It didn’t occur to her to slip that fact into the conversation this morning?
“My name is Donnatella Moss and obviously we got drunk and did something stupid, and while I loved the amazing, explosive sex and multiple orgasms you gave me, I should probably tell you that I’m engaged to the guy your boss is trying to court and you should, you know, be prepared for my fiancé to kick your ass”.
Seriously, I could have worked with that. Or maybe something more akin to…
“I hope the sex was as great for you as it was for me because my fiancé is Congressman Rippon, who is going to demand your resignation and generally humiliate your ass for sleeping with his fiancé.”
Anything would have been better than this. I got blindsided and now I’m sitting here talking to this guy like I didn’t wake up with his fiancé in my bed. Naked.
I want to glare at her, I really do, but I just don’t have the energy. And I’m pretty sure that if I did, James would notice and, you know, ask questions. Since that’s not a conversation I particularly want to have, not in front of a hundred other strangers anyway, I don’t look at Donna. Or at least, I try my best not to. Instead I plaster a pained smile across my face while I make worthless small talk.
Donna has yet to look at me once.
I’m not sure what I’d do if she did- look at me, that is. I’m thinking saying any of the things going through my mind is a bad idea.
A very bad idea: the kind of idea that gives CJ reasons to kill me.
So I sit here and say nothing, continuing to feel uncomfortable as I watch the happy grin on this guy’s face as he holds Donna’s hand.
Donna’s left hand.
A hand that is not wearing my ring, but some ostentatious thing I’ve never seen before.
For God’s sake woman look at me.
I have no idea what’s going through her mind. I don’t know if my judgment is that clouded and I’m not able to read her body language clearly, or if she’s just that good of an actress, because all I see is her smiling and laughing quietly at Jame’s mediocre jokes.
I really can’t take any more of this-sitting across a table from her and watching her fiancé beam like a mad-man-in-love. I can’t watch her ignore me like the last twenty-four hours didn’t happen.
I need to get out of here, so I signal to Mike, make my excuses and get the hell out of Dodge.
“That was uncomfortable.”
“You think?”
“I’m surprised Congressman Rippon didn’t pick up on the awkwardness.”
Huh?
“The guy doesn’t know me from Adam, how would he know what I was feeling? Why would he care?”
“I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking about her.”
“What abut Donna?”
“Her fiancé knows her even if he doesn’t know you, but he didn’t seem to pick up on her unease. Seriously Josh, she didn’t look any more comfortable than you did.”
“Were we sitting at the same table? Because she didn’t look like she had any problems from where I was sitting.”
“I don’t know where you were, but I saw how she pulled her hand out of his as he held it and how she was playing with her ring.”
“I didn’t see that,” I say quietly.
“So you probably missed the way she kept avoiding eye contact with you, but couldn’t help looking in your direction every once in a while.”
Every time I looked at her she was looking at her hands or at James, anywhere but me. Did I really miss all that? Why didn’t I see what Mike did?
“I missed that.”
“I guess that’s why they pay me the big bucks,” he jokes. “You ok?”
“What?” My voice sounds hoarse, even to my own ears.
“She’s engaged.”
“Thanks for stating the obvious,” I say derisively. He gives me a look that stops any more sarcastic comments from leaving my mouth. Finally, I sigh, “Yeah, I got that part.” I didn’t mean to sound as defeated as I did there.
“I’m sorry, Josh.”
“Yeah,” I shrug. She’s engaged and that’s her problem. I’m not sure what all these feelings inside me are. If I should name them or just stamp them down and hope they fade away. We got drunk and married and that’s… something I have to deal with.
I’m just not sure what that means or where I go from here.
“Seriously, you ok?”
“It was sex.” If I keep telling myself that I might be able to move on to another thought.
“Josh…”
“It was sex,” I repeat forcefully.
“And marriage,” he says with a small smile.
“Yeah, and that,” I smile back, though I’m putting way too much effort into such a simple gesture. “I was just knocked back for six-” I start. “I wasn’t expecting things to get complicated.” Because, really, of all the ways I was imagining this day to get worse, this wasn’t it.
“Yeah,” he sighs. After a moment he asks, “She’s engaged and she slept with you?”
“Well, we were pretty drunk,” I half defend her.
“Would that excuse work for you if she was your fiancé?”
I don’t reply because it’s quite obvious what the answer is. I chuckle for a second, the bitterness seeping through. “It explains why she freaked out when she found out what I did, professionally.” I conveniently ignore the way she almost read me the riot act when she thought I was married.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I answer as we reach the elevator and walk in. Leaning back against a large mirror, I close my eyes. I’m trying to move past the image of bright blue eyes smiling down at me, and wondering what the hell to do next.
“She wasn’t wearing her ring,” I say. I spent what seemed like an eternity, but was more likely less than a minute, staring at her hand. I don’t know what I felt when I saw my ring on her finger this morning, but seeing her engagement ring just now left me feeling empty in a way I never imagined possible.
“Last night?”
“What? Yeah, sorry-last night, she wasn’t wearing it last night, at least I hope she wasn’t because-”
“Josh, any time you want to start making sense here-”
“I meant just now, she wasn’t wearing her wedding ring now.” He’s looking at me trying to figure out where I’m going with this and in all honesty I have no idea. “The one I bought her,” I clarify. “She wasn’t wearing it.”
I spent ten thousand dollars on a ring for a woman engaged to be another man’s wife. My judgment sucks sometimes.
“If she wore your ring the Congressman might have asked a few questions.”
“Yeah,” I sigh.
“What are you going to do next?”
“Pack.” That’s as far as I’ve gotten with this plan. I’m not sure I want to think about the next step.
*
“The crime stats you wanted are waiting on your desk. Sam wanted ten minutes and I passed on the message to the First Lady’s office that it would be best if her staff avoided you for the rest of the day,” Carol lists as we walk back from the briefing room to my office.
“Do I have Advil? Or drugs of any kind?”
“I’ll find you some. Also, Danny left a present for Gail and you have Josh on line one.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ll go get the Advil.”
“Joshua,” I say as I take a seat and watch Carol leave.
“Hey.”
“You sound like shit.” He screwed up, but we can fix this and in the grand scheme of things… well, we can fix this.
And I’ll have much more fun being mad at him when he’s here in my office. I’m compiling a nice little stack of things that I can throw at him.
“Thanks, CJ.” I’m sure Josh meant that to sound sarcastic, but all I can hear is exhaustion. He sounds drained and defeated.
“Did you read up on the annulment laws?” Something tells me he hasn’t.
“I actually haven’t had time to do that yet,” he sighs.
“Lucky for you I pulled the data we need. It’s all here for you when you get back.”
“Thanks, but that’s not why I’m calling.”
“You didn’t get her pregnant, did you?” I joke. “I know it takes a while for hormones to show up on a test, but some women have an intuition-she’s not the type to have an intuition is she, Josh?” I’m not going to worry about this possibility. Really. Not going to worry.
At least not today.
“It’s not something you have to worry about,” he states adamantly. But then I hear him mutter, “At least, I hope not.”
“Josh, you used some sort of birth control, right?” Please tell me you used condoms, or that she’s at least on the pill.
“Yes?”
“Are you asking or telling?” My initial amusement is fast giving way to nervousness.
“There were wrappers on the night stand. Except, I was a little drunk last night-”
“A little drunk?”
“A lot drunk,” he amends.
“Ok, so you were saying…” I prompt after he doesn’t continue.
“We had a few problems with the logistics.”
I think the water just spewed out of my nose. “The logistics of a condom? There isn’t much to it, Josh. You roll the thing on to your-”
“Yes,” he interrupts forcefully. “I know how a condom works, CJ.” He hesitates for a second before blurting out, “Our hand-eye-co-ordination was a little off.”
I can’t help it, I have to mess with him; it’s only fair. “Are you sure she had a good time?”
“CJ!”
“Because, if you couldn’t even get a condom to work, how do you know you hit any of the right spots?”
“Back to the point,” he starts forcefully, “There were condoms in use, but I can’t guarantee we used them correctly, or that there weren’t times where we didn’t use them at all. My memory’s a little sketchy on the details.”
“That’s-”
“And I hit all the right spots. Repeatedly.”
“Thanks for the reassurance there, buddy,” I shoot back.
“I aim to please,” he says with no feeling whatsoever.
“O-kay,” I say, confused at his tone. “What’s up then?”
“I woke up married,” he replies, sounding defeated.
“This was news to me two hours ago. Right now? Not so much.”
“Yeah, but there’s more.”
“You’re about to tell me something that’s going to make your announcement of marriage this morning feel like a walk in the park, in terms of a PR standpoint, aren’t you?”
“That’s a poorly constructed sentence-”
“Josh, I’m not in the mood for thinly disguised avoidance crap. What’s wrong? I mean, besides the obvious.”
It takes him a moment, but in a small pained whisper he finally answers, “She’s engaged.”
Don’t do this to me, Josh. Please don’t tell me you let this happen.
“Who’s engaged?”
“Donna.”
“Engaged,” I repeat, monotone.
I need to be sure I heard that right.
“She’s engaged to Rippon.”
“Engaged?” Just to be clear. “To Congressman Rippon?” His silence is answer enough. “You spent the night with a stranger who happens to be engaged to a Congressman?” I start. “What the hell were you thinking, Josh!? Why the hell didn’t you tell me this before?” What the hell is it with Josh and sleeping with inappropriate women? Does his libido really have that much power over him? The jackass is trying my last nerve-in the past five years this man has slept with too many women to name, ninety percent of whom he should never have even looked at.
“CJ-”
“Did you use even a single brain cell last night? Is it a genetic disposition that makes you sleep only with women you shouldn’t-”
“CJ, I-”
“I’ll tell you what, Josh, I’ll have Carol pull up the names of the wives, fiancés, and daughters of every Congressman and Senator in the tri-state area. If that’s not enough, I’ll get you the name of every lobbyist, reporter, and socialite and you can work your way through them too. If you want to spice things up I’m sure Sam’s call girl friend has some pals, why not screw them on the steps of the Hill? Go seduce one and have sex to your heart’s content. How’s that? This way, at the very least, I’m forewarned. When your sex life becomes a political nightmare that I have to fix at least I’ll be forewarned.”
Silence.
I’m disappointed more than anything when I finally say, “I can’t believe you screwed us over for an orgasm, Josh.”
“I married her, CJ. Yes, I was drunk, but I married her, and you think it was just about sex? I’ve gotten drunk and had sex before, CJ, but I married the woman this time.”
Any biting remark I had just died on my tongue. His voice-it sounded…
He’s hurting over this.
He’s angry, frustrated, and knows this shouldn’t have happened. But I didn’t imagine he’d be hurting over this.
“Sure.” I feel a slight pang of guilt, realising that I don’t sound at all sympathetic, but I’m still mad at him. I’ve lost count of the amount of women that have tumbled through Josh’s life in the past five years. He does this too often; says and does things that inevitably end up causing the administration embarrassment, and me, nightmares.
When he doesn’t say anything, I ask another question. “Does Rippon know?”
“I didn’t get the impression she told him.”
“Will she?” I’m disgusted with myself that I’m actually praying she won’t. It would save us so many headaches if she didn’t tell her fiancé she cheated on him. What kind of person does it make me that I hope she doesn’t come clean to make my life easier?
“I don’t know.”
“Josh,” I sigh, “How did you get into this mess?”
“I honestly don’t know, CJ.” He’s using his earnest voice and I begin to feel a little sorry for him. “You don’t think I’m beating myself up over this?”
“The media won’t care what you’re going through. It sure as hell won’t matter to Congressman Rippon-and it won’t matter to Leo either. You can be apologetic all you want, but the fact is that your sex life has become an issue yet again and this time it could cost us more than a bill. It could cost you your job If this gets out, it won’t go away. You’ll be a joke; we’ll be a joke.”
“I know,” he breathes.
“Do you really? Because the mistakes you make Josh, if you were working for anyone other than Leo, you’d have been fired already. Your personal life should never have this kind of effect on your job and yet, here we are again. He’s loyal to us, Josh, and you keep testing how far that loyalty goes.”
“This wasn’t intentional, CJ.”
“Is it ever?”
“Of course not!”
“Fine.” He deserves for me to be mad at him, and I may have crossed a line, but right now he deserves it. I’ll apologise later. Maybe. “Did you know she was engaged when you slept with her?” Please say no, Josh. Forgetting the political nightmare, I don’t want to lose any personal respect for you.
It takes him a moment to answer. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know,” I echo in complete disbelief.
“I don’t remember. I’d like to think I’m not enough of a bastard to sleep with another man’s fiancé-”
“But you don’t remember,” I cut him off. I don’t really care about what he hopes he did or didn’t do.
“I don’t remember much of last night. It’s coming back to me slowly, but…”
“Yes?”
“I don’t want to know what happened, CJ,” he implores. “I want to get the marriage annulled and then just forget this ever happened.”
“Josh-”
“Listen, I just called to tell you she was engaged. Just in case.”
“Fine, you’ve done that.”
“CJ…”
“Don’t, Josh.”
“I’m really sorry, CJ.”
“Spin it to someone who cares, Josh.”
Damn. I should apologise, I really didn’t mean for that to come out. But I can’t seem to say I’m sorry. I’m not ready to stop being mad at him yet.
“I don’t know what else to say,” he finally breathes, as the silence between us became uncomfortable.
“I don’t need you to say anything, Josh. I need you to grow up. I can appreciate how this really was just a sad twist of fate and for that I’m sorry. I’m just disappointed. You’re better than this.”
“Right now, I don’t have that much faith in me.”
“Well, this isn’t just about you. You may not have known she was engaged, but she certainly did.”
“We were drunk-”
“Don’t-You’re held to a higher standard, Josh. If an average Joe did something like this he wouldn’t have to worry about it hitting the tabloids. You do. You should know better. And as for Donna… I don’t know her to comment, but what she did was wrong, so don’t defend her on this.”
“I’m not-I wasn’t going to-”
“Really? Because I have to tell you, ’we were drunk’ sounds like a defence to me-a pitiful one, but a defence nonetheless.”
He doesn’t say anything and I wish I had a clue as to what was going through his mind.
“I don’t have to like what she did, but I’ll reserve judgment on the woman,” I placate, sensing this is important to him for some reason.
“Yeah,” he sighs. I hear something that sounds vaguely like relief in his voice and once again I’m left wondering what the hell is going through his mind.
“Leo needs to know now, Josh.”
“I know,” he breathes. “I’m not sure I can-”
“No way-you don’t get to walk away from this without any scars.”
“You really think that’s how this is going to end?” His tone is low, but the anger is present and speaks volumes. “You think this is going to have some fairytale ending and I’m about to walk away from this thinking it was a great experience?”
“You don’t get to be mad at me, Josh. I’m not the one who screwed up. You asked me to tell Leo because you don’t have the guts to do it yourself. I don’t care how you think this is going to end, but the fact is that you’re going to have to deal with it and you’re going to tell Leo.”
It’s amazing how silence can say so much. Sometimes it gives you the time you need to think of the right thing to say, and just now? It told me I definitely crossed a line; in fact, it’s so far behind me I couldn’t see it even if I tried.
His voice is quiet when he starts to talk. “I never said I wasn’t going to talk to Leo, and I wasn’t asking you to talk to him for me. I should be home later… I shouldn’t do this over the phone.”
“This…” I sigh. “He needs to hear this from you,” I repeat, thinking about how Leo will react.
“I know. It’s just-there are times when I’m stupid and people move past it because despite the act, my reasons behind it are, well, you know. And then there are times where I’ve managed to do something that…”
“Josh?”
“I look down on people who cheat, CJ. If I was the outside observer in this I wouldn’t have any respect for the guy in my place.”
“Are you kidding me with this?” Really. Is he kidding me with this?
“No, CJ-”
I’m determined not to let him ignore this mistake or forget it, but he seems to be losing all perspective. “You were drunk, Josh. You’ve said it yourself; you don’t remember what happened and until you do, you can’t beat yourself up like this. All you did was get drunk and have a one-night stand. And if this were happening to someone else you’d laugh at the guy for being an idiot and feel sorry for him because he did something stupid when drunk. And then you’d make some smart ass remark about how it would never happen to you.”
“But it did.”
“Yes, it did.”
“And that makes it worse.”
“I’m not sure what you want me to say, Josh.” He doesn’t answer and so I wait. He needs to get out of this funk. I don’t understand how he’s so affected by this in this way.
Finally he asks, “Why do you think she did it? Why do you think she let it happen?”
“I have no idea, Josh, and I don’t know her so I can’t even speculate.”
“I guess.” I hear Josh take a deep breath. “She just-I didn’t pick up on it before, but she… when she woke up she looked horrified, but at the same time she didn’t.”
“What about when she was with Rippon? How did she look then?”
“I was trying my hardest to avoid looking at her. I was still trying to process things and… I was pretty mad at her.”
“But still-”
“I don’t get it, CJ-what the hell was going through her mind?” His anger is back and it now has a desperate quality to it.
And the pieces finally fit into place. This isn’t about the fact that he slept with someone he shouldn’t have; it’s that she slept with him. He’s not disappointed in himself as much as he’s disappointed with her… he’s disappointed that this can’t have a better outcome… which would mean in their short time together, she managed to break through the Lyman resolve and earn his respect and admiration, something that normally takes a long time to gain.
“Josh…” I have no idea what to say, but I should say something. He sounds hurt and lost and it’s finally sinking in that this is actually getting to him on a level that goes beyond my understanding of him. I’m still really angry with him but he sounds so…lost. I’m mad at him, but the insufferable jackass is still Josh, and Josh is one of my best friends. I need to take a moment to try and decipher what it is he needs from me.
“Josh?”
“Yeah?”
“Tell me about her.”
“CJ,” he warns.
“I’m not speaking as Press Secretary here, Josh. I’m asking as your friend. Just… tell me about her.”
He sighs and then, almost on a breath, he says, “She has this luminous smile.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He chuckles. “And she has this habit of changing topics on you in a flash-frustrates the hell out of you, but it’s sweet, I guess.”
“What did she say when she told you that she was engaged?”
“She didn’t tell me. I had a meeting with Rippon and she was there. He introduced her as his fiancé. She couldn’t - or wouldn’t - look at me and I left as soon as I could. I think if I hadn’t found out for myself, she wouldn’t have told me.”
“You need to talk to her. Are you ready for that?”
“CJ, it’s not like I’m in love with her.”
“I didn’t say you were, you idiot. But like you said, you married the woman.”
“I’m just… this isn’t some deeply loving relationship. It was a one-night stand and a mistake. I’m ok. It was just a shock to the system is all.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Yes, I am emotionally equipped to have a conversation with Donna.” He sounds vaguely amused.
“Well, with your fractured psyche, one can never be sure,” I tease.
“Again with the resorting to mental health jokes. Can’t think of a witty comeback, Claudia Jean?”
”That was plenty witty.“
”Sure, live in your delusional little world. But I have to tell you, it won’t get you many dates.“
”There is nothing wrong with my love life.“
”Okay, that sentence is misleading, because one would assume from that that you actually have one.“
”This coming from the D.C. slut,“ I grin. Ten minutes ago I was mad as hell with him and now I’m joking about this. Welcome to the weird and wonderful friendship of Joshua Lyman and Claudia Jean Cregg. Damn him for being a loveable jackass.
”CJ, if you keep calling me that I’m gonna get offended.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “And I’m not, you know, what you just called me. I’m not that lucky.”
“You’re a lot more charming to women than you realise, Josh. It’s beyond my level of comprehension, but there are some who seem to find the child-like quality about you endearing. Also your arrogance. I really don’t get that, but apparently it’s a turn on.”
“Well, I am ruggedly handsome.”
“No, you’re not. What idiot told you that?”
“Hey, you were the one just telling me that women find me attractive.”
“Yes, and I was talking about the group of women out there who seem to find your juvenile mating rituals endearing-usually they have the same maturity level as you. Nowhere did I mention that they think of you as ruggedly handsome.”
“Mating rituals?” He’s no longer vaguely amused so much as he’s trying to hold in the laughter.
“Flirting,” I offer instead. “I was merely pointing out that your juvenile flirting tactics are found endearing by some.”
“Right. They find my flirting endearing, but are in no way attracted to me physically.” It should frighten me that I can actually see him nodding, but I got over that sometime in the first year.
“You mock me?”
“It wasn’t obvious already? And CJ, we were actually talking about you and your love life. At least there are women out there who can vouch for my skills in bed. I’m thinking right now D.C’s only got your word for how good you are.”
“You didn’t just go there.”
“Where?” The bastard is grinning-I can hear his grin.
“Your skills as a lover are only as good as the women you sleep with say they are. And Mandy wasn’t all that flattering about you.” Of course, I’m not telling him that when Mandy’s drunk and in the mood to tell the truth, she speaks quite highly of Josh.
“Not flattering? Come on CJ! Think about it-all we did was argue. Why the hell stay with me for that long if the sex wasn’t great?”
“Josh, all you do with any of the women you date - and I use the word date in the loosest of terms - is argue.”
“I gave that woman the best years of her life. No way she thought the sex was bad.”
I smirk. “The best years of her life? I’m thinking Richard might have something to say about that.”
“Well, see, this is why Mandy feels the need to play with the truth; she doesn’t want to hurt the guy.”
“Yeah, that’s exactly it.” I’m about to mock him some more when I hear what sounds like someone knocking on a door. “Josh, is someone-”
“Yeah, there is. Listen, I’ll call you back. And thanks, CJ, for you know…thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. But Josh, I’m still pissed.”
“I know.”
“But you sounded like you needed a friend.”
“Thanks, Claudia.”
“Talk to her before you call me back, ok?” I say softly. “Talk to her, Josh.”
“I will. I promise.”
“And hey, make sure Congressman Rippon isn’t actually there, when you, you know, have the talk.”
“CJ, I’m not an idiot.”
“Of course not. Except, sometimes you are.”
“Okay, seriously, I’m wounded.”
“I guess there’s some merit to the phrase ’truth hurts.’”
*
I chuckle into the phone as I hear the dial tone. I love that woman. That she can be mad at you and still make you feel like not a complete jackass is why she’s quite possibly my best friend.
I scrub my hands over my face and answer the door. I shouldn’t be shocked when I see Donna and I guess I’m not. I’m just too drained to have any other reaction.
“Hi,” she says wearily, looking around the hallway.
I let her in before someone recognises her and wonders what she’s doing here. “James not with you?” I’m flippant and don’t really care if I come across as cruel in this conversation. I can’t help myself, my insides are churning and I need a method of release.
She’s taken about two steps into the suite - enough to shut the door behind her - but hasn’t made a move to come in any further. Right now I’m thinking the more distance between us the better.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I mutter darkly.
“Planning the wedding?” Her voice holds a touch of incredulous indignation. Whether that’s directed at my tone or my words, I don’t know.
“He is your fiancé, isn’t he?” I don’t wait for her answer as I move around the room picking up papers and files I brought to work on during the plane ride here. I’m almost done packing so I take one last look around while Donna stands rigid and looking for all the world like this is the last place she wants to be. I’m too angry at her, at me, at this situation, to say anything without lashing out at her, and considering how volatile my anger can be, I’m making the choice to stay quiet. She can initiate this dialogue.
Finally she says, “I’m so sorry about this.”
“Which ’this’ are we talking about here? The part where you ran out on me after you found out we got married? The part where you didn’t leave any way for me to contact you so we can fix this mess? The part where you forgot to tell me you’re here with a guy that I have to work with? Or, and this is the best bit, the part where I find out you’re engaged?!” By the end of my rant I’m leaning towards her and gesturing wildly with my hands. She looks a little frightened, so I take a step back and count to ten.
It’s not helping.
“I’m sorry,” she repeats.
I sigh, trying to put some order to the thoughts running through my mind. “Did I know you were…” I can’t say it right now. I can’t say it to her.
Thank God she manages to understand what I’m trying to say. “No-I don’t know. I don’t think I would have told you.” She smiles sadly and whispers to herself. “I was trying to forget.” You were trying to forget you were engaged?
Why?
I stare at her and wait for some explanation, but none is forthcoming. Instead she repeats the words ’I’m sorry.’
“You’re engaged,” I say in answer to her apology once I’ve calmed down.
“I’m-” She falters for a second before she starts again, and this time she avoids any eye contact. “I am… James and I-we’ve been engaged for-for six months.”
“We had sex.”
She closes her eyes as if the very idea somehow stings her, and the thought that that’s how she views this thing between us affects me more than it should.
“I know,” she finally replies.
“We woke up together.”
Work with me here, Donna; give me a reason.
“I know,” she breathes.
She’s not even trying to explain this-how is it that she can think a simple ’I’m sorry’ is ok? “You slept with me- hell, you married me and you’re already engaged. How the hell does someone do that?!”
“I was drunk! I woke up this morning naked with a stranger and I don’t remember what happened. I don’t have the answers but I woke up with you and this is as hard for me as it is for you!”
“You don’t get to use that as an excuse. You let yourself get drunk to the point that it didn’t matter to you that you’re supposed to be marrying another man. You knew-you know he exists and yet you-” I stop because I honestly don’t know what to say.
She laughs, and it has a bitter quality to it. It’s startlingly different from the laughter from last night that has been running through my mind since I woke up this morning.
“I let myself get drunk?”
“Donna-”
“I let myself get drunk? Because that’s not how it works. I wasn’t sitting there thinking ’If I drink enough I’ll have a good excuse to sleep with this guy.’”
“I didn’t mean-”
“Yes, you did. You just implied that this was part of some calculated plan and not a mistake. Are you always this arrogant?-”
“Arrogant?”
“This was a mistake.”
“I know that-”
“Really? Because you seem to think this is all about you and here’s a news flash; it’s not.”
“No, it’s about me, you, and the guy you cheated on.”
She snaps her mouth shut and silence hangs in the air.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she finally says sharply.
“You’re engaged to another man and you slept with me! What else do I need to know!?”
I stare at her once again, waiting for an answer that isn’t forthcoming. Finally, I look away and she whispers, “It’s not that simple.”
What the hell does that mean?
I look at her again and she looks so vulnerable now. The anger that was there a minute ago isn’t there anymore and she instead looks as drained as I feel.
“Look, can we- maybe it would be better if we stopped trying to explain what happened…” What she really means is maybe Ishould stop thinking about what happened. “…We should-we need to figure out how we’re going to fix this so we can move on.”
Why is my chest constricting a little at her words?
“You think we can just forget about what we did last night as if nothing ever happened, and move on?”
Will you be able to just forget this like nothing ever happened?
“You want this to get out?” she asks pointedly, staring me down.
“I want you to tell me how you could do it, how could you be that kind of person.” I honestly don’t know what I want from her here. I wish I understood why this matters to me so much.
“You’re expecting a lot from someone you’ve known less than a day,” she says in a quiet voice. I’m not sure who’s having more trouble with my reaction to the situation, her or me.
“I know you well enough to know you’re avoiding the question.”
“I was drunk.”
“That’s not an excuse for sleeping with me when you’re already engaged!” I yell.
“We slept together because we were drunk,” she states carefully. “We got married because we were drunk, and neither would have happened if either of us was sober, would it?”
“That isn’t the point.”
“What is the point, Josh?” she implores. “Why does it matter so much to you? Yes, I’m engaged. Yes, I made a mistake-and it’s one Ihave to live with. You get to walk away from this and I have to deal with the consequences, so why are you acting like the injured party here?”
“You think this won’t affect me?” I ask incredulous.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“No? What did you mean?”
“I didn’t- … I’m not engaged to you, so what gives you the right to feel betrayed?”
“I don’t feel betrayed.”
“Are you sure? Because you’re certainly acting like it.”
I look at her and all that I can think about is what compelled me to want this woman. I have these feelings for her and all I can think is what is it about her that makes me want her? Why am I this disappointed in her for sleeping with me, for allowing herself to get drunk enough to marry me? What the hell happened in the last twenty-four hours that made me this invested in her and this… relationship.
And then I think about finding out she was engaged, and I know that I don’t want to know any more about her. This isn’t going to end in any way that has a good outcome. If I’m lucky it’ll just end.
I turn around and head back into the bedroom. Zipping my suitcase shut, I come to a decision. I take a deep breath and face her through the door. “You’re coming with me to D.C.”
“I’m what?”
“D.C. I’m having my assistant book you a ticket on the same flight as me,” I state as I hit speed dial on my cell phone.
“You’re kidding.” I give her a look to show her how serious I am. “Why?”
“Because you’re right. We need to stop thinking about what happened and deal with this.”
“I understand that, but why can’t we stay here and fix this? Wouldn’t that make more sense?”
“I have to be in D.C. I don’t have time to stay here and find a way to fix this.”
“And you need me to come with you?”
“Yeah-wait one sec,” I say to Donna. “Cleo, I need you to reserve another seat- yeah. And tell CJ about it-she’ll know what it means.” I snap my cell phone shut and look up to see Donna with her arms crossed over her chest and her mouth in a tight line.
“I can’t fix this with you in another state,” I explain.
“So you decided to just go ahead and make plans without consulting me?”
“Isn’t that the way of married people?” I joke, but there’s really no humour in my tone.
“I can’t go with you, Josh. I have to get back to work.”
“You took two weeks off from work-”
“How did you know that?”
“What?”
“I didn’t tell you that-how did you know that?”
I sigh, because I can imagine the outburst that’s about to ensue. “Earlier, when I didn’t know how to find you, I had Mike dig around.”
“Define ’dig around.’”
“Mike tracked you through your medical license. We found out where you worked and they said you were off for the next two weeks.” I haul the suitcase out of the room and walk past her as I add, “And we left a few messages around.”
“I don’t understand what that means,” she says as she follows me.
“Mike left a message on your parents’ answering machine.”
“He did what?”
“He-”
“You had an FBI agent leave a message on my parents’ answering machine? Are you nuts? Is there something wrong with you?”
“If it helps, I don’t think he mentioned he was an FBI agent.”
“So you had a strange man leave a message on my parents’ machine?”
“You didn’t give me a choice!”
“So you thought that made it ok to invade my life like that?”
“What the hell was I supposed to do, Donna?” I ask passionately. “You walked out on me and I had no idea how to find you.”
“It didn’t occur to you that I just needed some time? Did you honestly think I wouldn’t come back?”
“I didn’t think you’d leave in the first place,” I answer, looking straight at her. Any reply she has seems to die on her lips as we stare at each other. I wish I knew what was going through her mind, but she won’t let me in and we need to get this conversation back on track. I clear my throat and start again. “You should probably pack some stuff to take to D.C. with you.”
“I can’t go with you, Josh,” she says, sounding somewhat frantic.
“You don’t get a choice in this, Donna.”
“There’s a reason I took two weeks off. And what am I supposed to tell James?”
“I’m sure you can think of something.”
“I’m not going with you.”
“You are. Deal with it and go pack.”
“Or what?”
“Do you want your fiancé to know what you were doing last night?”
“You wouldn’t.”
“You really want to take that chance?”
“Just so we’re clear on this?” she starts, her face taking on an adorable quality. “I’m really beginning to hate you.”
“I’m your husband. It would go against the laws of nature if you didn’t,” I shoot back.
She just glares at me.
A small smile traces my lips as I watch her get indignant. Looking at her now, I realise this is possibly one of the reasons I want her; she looks beautiful and it has nothing to do with her physical appearance. There’s a sparkle in her eye, as if she can’t help but banter back and forth with me.
“I loathe to breath the same air as you.”
I smirk. I can’t help it. “You know, you weren’t saying that last night.”
She continues to glare at me. And damn but I can’t help but think even her glare is sexy. I clear my throat, “And anyway, after the hell you put me through this morning, the feeling is entirely mutual.”
“So I go to D.C. with you and then what?”
“We’ll figure out what to do next.”
I watch her as she debates with herself about what to do. Finally, she relents. “Josh…”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll go pack.”
“Yeah,” I sigh in relief.
“Should I- Should I meet you at the airport?”
“I think that would probably work best.”
“What time is the flight?”
“We have to be there in forty-five minutes.”
“Okay. I’ll… I’ll just go pack.”
She starts to make her way towards the door when words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them. “What will you tell James?”
“I don’t know,” she whispers, looking down at the door handle as if it might hold an answer. Strands of her hair fall to across her eyes and she raises a delicate hand to brush them back. She doesn’t notice how my eyes are trained on her, watching as the anger and confusion slip away. I can’t help but stare and I don’t know why something in my chest twists a little as I read pain in her features. “Things weren’t meant to end like this,” she breathes. I’m left speechless at her words, having no idea what they mean, but knowing that saying them is tearing her up inside. And I’m stunned as I see her trying to blink back tears.
“Donna…”
She takes a moment to compose herself and then faces me with a faint, forced smile. Softly, she answers, “I should go pack.”
My eyes follow her and remain focused on the door even after she closes the door behind her.
*
“What time does the flight leave??”
“An hour, but boarding begins in thirty,” I reply anxiously. I’m pacing and scanning the airport crowds looking for Donna. She’s not here yet and I’m beginning to wonder if she’s performed another disappearing act. But all this is lost on Sam, since he’s on the other end of the phone not able to see how uneasy I am. And there’s also the fact that he doesn’t actually know about Donna yet.
“You haven’t checked in yet?”
“Yeah, I have,” I lie. I’m still waiting for Donna.
“O-kay.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say quickly.
“Wasn’t going to,” he replies happily. I’m wondering if I should try calling her hotel room-but if she’s decided not to come, would anything I say change her mind?
“So, my date last night was a bust,” Sam starts out of the blue.
“Why? What happened?” I really don’t want to listen to Sam lament about his love life, but maybe listening to Sam bitch about his will take my mind off the mess mine has become.
“Well, I got talking to a woman in the bar on Friday night…”
“And?” Just tell me, Sam. I’m really not in the mood to drag this out of you right now. I’m all for listening to someone who has less luck with women than I do, but listening to Sam turn a rendition of a failed date into some sort of epic saga isn’t something I have the patience for at the best of times, and certainly not now.
“I took her out for dinner last night…”
For the love of- quit stalling, Sam, or I’m gonna hang up on you.
“It turns out that, without alcohol, she’s not so nice,” he says ruefully.
“You were drunk when you got talking to her?” What is this- National Men Getting Screwed Month?
And where the hell is Donna?
“Yeah-I know. It was a stupid thing to do.”
“Sounds familiar,” I mutter.
“Huh?”
“Nothing. Look, Sam, you have nothing to worry about. It’s not like you’re never going to get another date. It’s not even as if this has put you off the dating game forever, is it?”
I mean, it’s not like you got married and now have to face the consequences, is it?
“Okay, Josh, take a deep breath and then release it. I was just making small talk.”
“Oh.” Okay. Now I feel like an idiot. “Small talk?”
“I’ve heard friends do that now and then.”
“Where did you hear that-”
“Around.”
“Because that sounds like a thing women would do. Men not so much.”
“I didn’t get that memo.”
“Is this conversation going anywhere?” I ask impatiently.
I scan the waiting lounge. Still no sign of Donna.
“I was trying out my stand-up on you,” he quips, still not understanding I’m really not in the mood for this.
“I’m laughing on the inside, Sam, really.”
“I appreciate it,” he retorts. “So how was the meeting with Rippon?” Great. Another conversation I desperately want to have.
“He said to pass on his thanks to Toby.”
“Toby?”
“Yeah. Apparently Toby had something to do with his running.” Isn’t that going to be a great conversation?
Toby, James Rippon wanted me to pass on his thanks for pushing him to run.
Oh, and you should probably know that I married his fiancé but he doesn’t know that yet.
“I didn’t know that.”
“Me either.” I’m searching for a blond head that just isn’t around. And there’s only fifteen minutes left to check in.
“So at least the guy’s decent.”
“What?”
“I’m just saying-this guy had Toby pushing him to run, so he’s gotta be decent.”
“Yeah,” I sigh. This isn’t something I want to hear right now. Because if James was a rat bastard then maybe Donna would have had some kind of reason to cheat on him. Knowing that he’s a good guy and that she could do this to him… it’s not how I want to think about her.
“Is he with us or do we need Toby to meet with him?”
“He’s with us.” Or at least he will be as long as he doesn’t find out I slept with his fiancé. “How’s the press release coming along?” I ask, trying to move the conversation away from Donna’s future husband.
And that just sounds wrong on so many levels.
“It’s done. But I’m avoiding CJ right now.”
“Why?”
“She spent the morning trying to fade away a mistake the First Lady’s office made and she’s not in a good mood.”
“What kind of mistake?”
“It’s nothing-CJ’s got a handle on it. But right now it’s best to avoid her. I walked past her office and she was stabbing this poor doll with a pen.”
“She was doing what?” I almost ask if the thing resembled me in any way, but I think I’d rather not know.
“You heard. Toby has his rubber balls and now, apparently, CJ stabs Raggedy Ann dolls.”
“Well, that’s just…” I trail off as I finally spot Donna. “Sam, I gotta go.”
“Sure. I’ll talk to you later.”
She’s finally here and we’re both nervous and not entirely sure what to say or do, which is about when I remember that check in closes in a matter of minutes and that we don’t have time to just stare at each other.
“We should probably check in.”
“I’m sorry I’m so late. I had trouble- I’m sorry.”
It takes me a second to remember why she would have trouble getting here, at which point I realise I really didn’t want to know. I catch a glimpse of her hand only to see her engagement ring shining back at me, and I have to force down feelings I can’t begin to understand before I say the wrong thing. Reflexively I look down to my left hand, realising that I have yet to take off my own ring. The awkwardness grows exponentially as I look up and see Donna staring at my wedding ring. She meets my eyes but her face is perfectly masked, hiding her feelings, leaving me with no idea as to what’s going through her mind. With no idea what to do, I simply offer her a small, embarrassed smile and make a move to take hold of her suitcase, because as evident by our earlier conversations, neither of us is equipped to deal with this just yet.
We walk silently for a moment, the atmosphere becoming thick with tension, when Donna asks, “Did I interrupt something?”
“Huh?” I query with a total lack of eloquence.
“When I arrived, you were on the phone…”
“Oh, no, it was nothing. Just work.”
She smiles at the opening, “The White House Deputy Chief of Staff calling work ’nothing’ isn’t exactly confidence inspiring. ”
“If you think I’m bad, you should meet the President,” I tease, glad that the awkward atmosphere seems to have been broken, for now at least.
*
We haven’t spoken since we boarded the plane and that was over an hour ago. Neither of us seems to know what to say. I’ve been sitting here watching her discretely as she sits quietly, obviously uncomfortable in my presence. The need to open a dialogue with her that doesn’t have us shouting at each other is now overwhelming.
“You know, I figured that when I got on a plane after getting married, it would be to go on a honeymoon.” She turns to face me, looking startled, curious, and relieved. “I also figured that, in that case, I’d be joining the mile high club.” I waggle my eyebrows for added effect and it works as she gives me a tentative but bright smile.
She laughs quietly and it’s quite possibly the best sound I’ve heard all day. “You’re telling me you’re not a member already?”
“Nah,” I smile, bringing out the dimples. “I figured I should save something special for my wife.”
“And you think the mile high club is special?”
“Why?” I ask, eyebrows raised. “What do you know that I don’t?”
“Nothing,” she grins, leaving a comfortable silence.
“I’m sorry about earlier.” I chance a look at her face and see confusion written all over it. “Back at the hotel-I was out of line; I shouldn’t have yelled at you like I did.”
“Josh…”
“I’m just-I’m sorry about that.”
“Well, if we’re apologising…” she smiles shyly. “I’m sorry for the way I reacted this morning; I shouldn’t have run out. And you shouldn’t have found out about James the way you did.”
“No, I shouldn’t have.”
“I really am sorry, Josh. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“I know,” I sigh. I shift uncomfortably as I wonder if I should ask what’s on my mind. “What did you tell James?”
She looks at her hands as she answers, “I told him I was needed at the centre.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but as excuses go, that was pretty lame.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way?” she laughs. I’m somewhat offended but also a little relieved that she didn’t explode at, you know, the way I phrased that sentence.
“You find this amusing? What happens if your fiancé decides to call you at work?” “Did I say that I was called away for work?” she asks raising an eyebrow. It’s disturbingly sexy.
“Yes?”
“You’re an idiot, Josh.”
“Thanks. Your high opinion of me just warms my heart.”
“Does it help that you’re cute when you’re in idiot mode?”
You have no idea.
Her smile lights up her eyes and I grin back answering, “I’d prefer if you could work ’ruggedly handsome’ or ’a fine male specimen’ in there. Anything to that effect would do.”
“I’ll remember that for next time.”
“Next time?”
“Something tells me ’Josh in idiot mode’ is a regular occurrence.”
“You were talking about work,” I deflect.
“Right, except I wasn’t,” she grins. Her smiles changes to a look of shy pride as she starts to talk again. “My sister started up a shelter for battered women about two months ago.”
“It takes extraordinary people to offer that kind of help.”
“Extraordinary doesn’t even begin to describe Stan-”.
“Stan. Your sister’s name is Stan?”
“What’s wrong with Stan?” she asks in an adorably defensive way.
“Nothing… just, did your parents not know she was a girl?”
“They knew. That’s why they named her Alaska.”
Alaska?
“But you just said her name was Stan.”
“I call her Stan.”
“Right,” I say utterly confused. “I can see how you got that from Alaska.”
“Shut up.”
“I have to ask-”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“But you realise I’m going to anyway.”
“As long as you realise that I don’t have to answer.” She sits, stubborn, her arms folded across her chest and a resolute expression on her face.
“You will. You can’t help yourself.” I give her a smug grin. She glares at me. “So where did Stan come from? Or would it be funnier if I asked about Alaska?”
It takes her all of five seconds to crack.
“I couldn’t pronounce Alaska when I was three. But I could say Stan.”
“Yeah, but Stan?”
“From Stanford.”
“Stanford?”
“Yes, the college-she went to med school there.” She says this like I’m the world’s biggest idiot for not being able to connect the dots.
“Right, so obviously, Stan.”
“Don’t mock me.”
“You think I’m making fun of you?”
“Yes.”
I was and she knows it, so I decide to quit while I’m ahead. Or behind, depending on your point of view.
“You were three when she was at college?”
“Med school. I was three when she was at med school-she’s quite a bit older than me. I wasn’t exactly an accident, but I wasn’t planned either,” she smiles.
“So your sister works with women who need help, and you work with children. That’s a pretty special combination.”
Her tone changes to something more intimate. “I always wanted to be her when I grew up. I remember wearing her heels and trying to find a way to put on her earrings, the only problem was I didn’t have my ears pierced at the time.”
“You must have presented quite the picture,” I say, picturing Donna as a beautiful little blond girl.
“No, that would be when I was sick. I would go find her favourite dress to sleep in, because she always looked happy whenever she wore it. So I thought it would make me feel better.”
“And it helped?”
“Back then I thought it did.”
“I don’t know many sisters who would be ok with their favourite dress being used like that.”
“Well… It wasn’t actually a dress. It was her college sweatshirt that she left behind while at med school. Except I was too young to know that-”
“And you would wear her Stanford sweatshirt when you were ill,” I say finally connecting the dots and imagining a three-year-old Donna swimming in her sister’s Stanford sweatshirt. Instantly a picture of Donna now, swimming in my Harvard sweatshirt, enters my mind and I have to stifle a groan. I clear my throat and ask, “That’s where you got Stan from?”
She nods, smiling. “Anyway, that’s what Stan does, and I help when I can. She-this is the reason I became a doctor. Well Stan, and a stupid ex-boyfriend- who you don’t need to know about…” she trails off embarrassed, as if she thinks she’s said too much. “This shelter is new and she didn’t have the funds to get all the help she needs right now, so I said I’d help with some of the arrangements and-”
“And that’s why you took two weeks off,” I finish for her.
“I was supposed to leave on Tuesday, but I told James I needed to leave today.”
“What if he calls your sister?”
“He won’t.” I start to question her when she adds, “She knows to cover for me.”
“Okay.” I nod, though I can feel an internal guilt trip starting. I’m dragging her to D.C. when she could have been at the shelter working for a good cause.
“It’s okay,” she smiles at me. “Someone’s going to take my place at the shelter until I can get there.”
“How did you-?”
“I guess we really did connect in some way.” She shrugs the comment off but there’s something in her eyes as she says it. And the reaction I have to that leaves me with an indescribable feeling.
I remain quiet for a beat, then struggle through my next question. “Will you…” I clear my throat and try again. “Are you going to tell James about this?”
“About you?”
“About me; this situation.”
“I don’t think… this would just hurt him and… it’s better if he doesn’t know.”
“Better for who?” I mutter. I obviously wasn’t quiet enough since Donna gives me an odd look.
“I didn’t say I would never tell him.”
Really, so when do you plan on telling him?
“Sure,” I say.
“Why does this matter to you so much?”
“Besides the ramifications it would have on my professional life?” I honestly don’t have an answer for her. I don’t know why this bothers me so much, and right now I don’t know if I want to know. But she was expecting an answer and I gave her the only one I could. While it’s not the answer to her question, it is an answer.
“James knowing about this won’t have any ramifications on your professional life.”
“Right. He’d have no problems working with the guy that slept with his fiancé.” Sarcasm, you really gotta love it.
“That’s not… He doesn’t own me.”
“No, but he’s engaged to you.”
“No, he’s n- He and I-I’m not… he’s one of my best friends, and the last few months have been… despite what’s happened between us over the past few months, this would hurt him, and I can’t do that to him.”
Don’t do it. Don’t go there. Let the comment slide and talk about something else. Anything else. Talk about her sister. About-about her name and where it came from. Just don’t talk about this. You don’t want to listen to her talk about this guy. You know that. Don’t ask- “You’ve been having problems?”
Like I wasn’t going to ask.
“No-we… I… Have you ever been in a serious relationship?”
“If you’d ask my friends, I don’t actually have relationships,” I say, thinking maybe this isn’t something I would really want to hear after all.
I really shouldn’t have asked.
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve been invested in a relationship, but I’ve mastered the art of casual-”
“You mean flings.”
“Yeah,” I smile cheekily.
“So maybe I can find a way of blaming all this on you after all,” she smiles back, the hint of a teasing grin not far behind.
“Probably,” I smile uncomfortably.
She takes a moment to take in my expression and then says, “Josh, you’re not going to lose your career over this, that much I can promise.”
“I don’t think you can make promises for Leo,” I mutter under my breath.
“Leo?”
It really should be obvious, given how close we’re sitting, that she can hear anything I say out loud.
“The White House Chief of Staff.”
“Your boss,” she surmises. “Why would he fire you?”
“I think your fiancé asking for my resignation might be a pretty good incentive.”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
“There’s something wrong there then, because if you were my fiancé I’d be doing a lot worse to the guy who sle-”
“He is not going to ask for your resignation, Josh,” she reiterates adamantly.
“Because he’s not going to know?”
“No-I mean yes. No, that’s not what I mean.”
“You really have a way with words, you know that?”
She smiles sadly at my joke and then her expression turns earnest. “I don’t know if I can tell him about this. I don’t think I can hurt him like this. But even if I told him, he wouldn’t ask for your resignation. Forgetting everything else, I wouldn’t let him.”
“That’s nice of you, but he’s going to lash out in some way.”
“No, he won’t.”
I know I’m bad at relationships, but I think it’s a safe bet that if the woman you’ve decided you want to spend the rest of your life with sleeps with another man, you do something.
I’m about to say as much when I realise that she’s not going to cede this point so instead, I try another track. “Okay, let’s say for argument sake say that James doesn’t do anything. What happens if the press finds out?”
It takes her a while, but she finally admits, “It would be a mess.” Although, I got the feeling that wasn’t going to be her first answer. “You think they’ll find out?”
“No,” I say after a moment. “CJ didn’t say anything about the wires picking this up. And Mike did some discrete checking. The guy who married us didn’t recognise either of us. So the only people who know right now are people who won’t talk. Unless you told anyone else?”
“No, but I think I remember you stopping some of the people we passed by and telling them we got married.”
Oh. Well… that could screw things up.
“I’m sure they thought we were just like any other Vegas couple. If they recognised either one of us - which is highly unlikely given I’m not really known outside D.C. and you’re thankfully not that well known - it would have made it to the wires by now. Or at least made it to some tabloid trash. I’m not saying they won’t find out,” I warn her. “I’m just saying it’s unlikely.”
“Okay,” she sighs, not quite reassured. “So what happens when we get to D.C.?”
Where do I start? “I need to tell Leo and I’m guessing CJ will want to talk to you.”
“Talk to me?”
“She just needs to hear things from you. This is what she does, Donna. Don’t worry about it.”
“Sure,” she answers, still looking slightly anxious. “Where would I meet her?”
“She’s waiting for us at the White House.”
“The White House?” she squeaks.
“You’ve never been?”
“No, I have. It’s just not everyday that I go there with the intention of talking to the Press Secretary about getting married to the Deputy Chief of Staff.”
“It’s a first all around. It’s not every day that CJ has to talk to my wife,” I quip, trying to ease some of her anxiety.
“You two are good friends?”
“Yeah,” I smile genuinely. I think back to how mad CJ was earlier and think maybe I should warn Donna about her mood. The last thing this situation needs is for things to escalate because of an irate Press Secretary. “Speaking of CJ, if she’s a little abrupt, it’s because she’s mad at me so don’t let that get to you.” She’s probably mad at Donna too, but Donna doesn’t need to know that.
“I’m sorry she was angry at you.”
“I’m over it.” I’m really not. CJ wasn’t just mad at me; she was disappointed in me.
“But still-”
“It’s how we are with each other. I do something stupid and she gets mad. It’s like a constant in the White House; people would miss it if we stopped, so don’t worry about it, Donna.”
“I wasn’t going to worry,” she lies.
“Well, you could worry a little. CJ’s scary when she’s mad.”
“So you’re afraid of her?”
“I don’t know any man in D.C. who isn’t,” I shoot back.
“Stan would like her,” she nods.
“Stan’s on a little feminista kick of her own?”
“Feminista?”
“It’s a word.”
“One that CJ would kick your ass for using, I’d guess.”
“Do you see CJ here right now?”
“If Stan were here she’d kick your ass too,” she answers, ignoring my question.
“You’re not going to are you? ’Cause I’ve heard tough love can be fun, but we’re not alone right now.”
“Get away from me,” she snickers.
“And miss out on the punishment?”
“I’m all for kinky, Josh, but I don’t think you could handle it.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“Josh, you had trouble getting the condom on,” she whispers fiercely. “Bending your body into positions to suit me is a tad more complicated,” she finishes with a satisfied grin.
My mouth just went dry as I get an instant flash of the positions we experimented with last night. Considering we were too drunk to get the condom to work, I’m thinking it was a fluke those things happened.
But on the up side, if she can get her body to do that when she’s drunk, imagine what she could do when she’s sober and has full control over her muscles. And the feel of her silky blond hair brushing against my chest-
Need to stop thinking about this now.
Now.
“You could do the bending if you want.” What the hell is it with the words not checking themselves with my brain and heading straight for my mouth instead?
“Way to entice a girl there, Josh.”
“And anyway,” I ignore, my mouth still somewhat dry from the images still flashing in my mind. “The condom thing was because of the drink thing,” I manage to say, albeit a tad bit ineloquently.
“You really have a way with words, you know that?” Nice. She just threw my words back at me.
“You know what I meant,” I accuse good-naturedly.
“Yes, I did.”
“I can be more limber when required,” I say indignantly.
“Sure.”
“See, you don’t remember all the sex last night, because if you did, you’d know.”
Her grin instantly vanishes.
Shit.
“I don’t think we should go there again, do you?”
I know we shouldn’t. I really do. But you have no idea how much I want to.
Shit. I hate it when thoughts like that creep up on me.
I have got to stop thinking like this.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
“Do you think we’d qualify for an annulment?” she interrupts. Great, things just became really uncomfortable again.
“I would think so, but I don’t know for sure. CJ has all the information we need waiting for us.”
“We’d probably need a lawyer.”
“That won’t be a problem,” I respond. The silence between us is compounding the unease that started since I spoke before I thought. We seem to be wavering on this precarious line and one wrong step has us both free falling back to square one. This isn’t how I want our time together to be, and I know I can’t guarantee a smooth relationship between us while this situation gets resolved. But I can try and ease the tension for the rest of this flight at least.
“I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.” I really didn’t expect to be apologising this much when I woke up today, either.
“You didn’t.”
“Donna,” I sigh. “You suddenly closed yourself off, so I obviously did something wrong, and for that, I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to say sorry, Josh. I just… you don’t need to say sorry.”
We somehow manage to stumble into conversations that are too real right now without even thinking about it. I’m not sure how that keeps happening. Or how we manage to talk without actually saying anything.
“Stan would like you too,” she says out of the blue.
Too
“Yeah?”
I think this is her way of apologising and I think… I prefer this to ’I’m sorry.’
“Yes,” she smiles. “She’d give you a kick up the backside for the feminista crack, but she’d think you have a cute butt.”
“I have been told I have the finest ass in politics,” I add casually. Or perhaps smugly, it’s a toss up.
“You really need someone to keep your ego in check, Josh.”
“So I’ve been told,” I mock sigh.
We seemed to have reached a plateau and so we sit in silence. This time neither of us tries to fill it. Instead, we’re both lost in our own little worlds. I watch her as she closes her eyes and leans back, relaxing probably for the first time today. I think about the things we need to talk about, and all the conversations that have been left unfinished between us, and that, maybe we should be having them now. But then I look back at her, and the worry lines seem entrenched. She needs this moment to unwind and so instead I copy her actions and lean back in my seat, taking a deep breath and closing my eyes. It’s surprisingly not all that relaxing, especially when images of blond hair against my chest- long pale legs wrapped around me, bright blue eyes staring right into me- all assault me.
My eyes snap open and I scrub my hands over my face, taking a peak at Donna to see her eyes still closed. I guess this is why I need to be talking; every time I stop, I see things I shouldn’t. I feel things I shouldn’t. It hits me like a ton of bricks that she didn’t look like this last night. I didn’t just have sex with this woman; I made love with her. I remember laughing with her. I remember wanting to capture the image of her in ecstasy and I remember this general feeling of giddiness.
I look at her now and I know those feelings are somewhere in me. They’re hard to ignore when they keep creeping up on me and I have to tamp them down, but I’m finding it difficult to get over this as it is. It might be different when she’s no longer around, when this is all over. Letting these feelings dissipate then might be easier even if I know what happened last night, but I don’t want to find out.
Her ring shining back at me is a glaring reminder that I can’t let myself want her anymore. Of course it’s then that I look at the ring on my finger and think the ship has pretty much sailed on that one.
Should I take the ring off?
“Josh?”
I’ve been so lost in my thoughts I hadn’t realised an hour has gone by already.
“Yeah?”
“I want to say something, and I need you to not be you. In other words, don’t interrupt, ok?”
“Sure,” I smile.
“I don’t want you to apologise to me about the fact that things sometimes get uncomfortable between us. I like you too much for you to feel sorry about this. It started how it started, and it’ll end how it’s meant to end, but in the mean time… could we be just be friends?”
“Yeah,” I finally croak. “Friends is good.”
“Of course, if you screw up beyond belief, like you know, marry another woman while you’re married to me,” she stops to grin at me, which I can’t help but find adorable.
“Then I reserve the right to kick your ass.”
Since it seems ok to joke about us now, I shoot back, “I think you have a thing about my ass.”
And I know I have a thing about you.