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“Mia will know what to do,” Chloe said confidently. “Let’s go talk to her.”
“We will, but first, I have to check in with your dad. He was going to meet with the photographer to see if he could squash it first.”
A tap on the door interrupted them. Jonathan stepped in, his face weary, and offered a tired smile. “Hey, ladies. Chloe, do you think I can speak to Alyssa for a few minutes alone?”
“Sure, Dad.”
Alyssa stood from the bed to face him. The door shut quietly, and he began to pace. She wished she had an extra stress ball to toss him. “It was Diana. The picture shows us hugging, but it’s pretty obvious we have feelings for each other. Mia had an idea, but it’s a risk. She wants to announce it to the public on our own and hold a press conference. Get ahead of it. Bob agrees with that plan. But there’s another choice.”
“What?”
He avoided her gaze. “We can deny. Say we’ve been close friends—like family—and I was comforting you. There’s still time for you to decide, Alyssa. The reality is, my life is lived in the spotlight. I know we can work within those borders to carve out private time, and once the buzz dies down, the press will move on to another story. Do I think you’ll take some heat on the job? Yeah, I’m not going to lie. But I’ll back you up, and we have a hell of a team that will support us, who doesn’t give a crap that we’re personally involved.”
Everything inside of her stilled. An awful fear gripped her insides and took hold. Did he want to go back to the way things were? Had all of her protests finally taken hold, so he doubted she had the strength to be his partner? Did he regret saying he loved her last night?
Her throat dried up, but she pushed the words out. “Are you saying you want to deny our relationship?”
He stopped pacing. His piercing blue gaze locked with hers, and in those jeweled depths, she saw the truth. There was male temper there. Regret. Determination.
And love.
“Hell, no. But I love you, and I understand if this is too much. I’m saying I can still find a way out because if we go down this road, it’s going to be messy. I need to know you’re prepared and want to do it. I need to know—”
His voice broke off. Hope tore at her at the naked vulnerability carved on his features. “Need to know what, Jonathan?” she asked softly.
“I need to know if you think I’m worth this.”
Her heart shattered. She knew years later, she’d pin this moment as the one that’d changed her life. In the barn, they’d made love, declaring their emotions privately to each other. But announcing it to the world in the bright glare of day was a leap of faith, trust, a declaration that forced them both to make a choice.
God, she was so happy he’d waited for her.
“Did you ever read The Symposium by Plato?” she asked.
He blinked. “Umm, yeah. In college. Not that I remember much.”
“Plato asserts that all humans began as whole, hermaphroditic beings with four hands, four legs, four ears, and two identical faces on one head. A strange fusion of male and female. And these beings were quite powerful. Did you know that?”
He cocked his head, suddenly listening intently. “No. Go on.”
“Well, they attacked the gods, so Zeus decided to humble these beings without completely destroying them. He split them in two—men and women. And in doing so, he created the desire of human beings to endlessly search for the other half of themselves in order to feel whole again. Finding that other part of yourself is love.”
Slowly, she crossed the room and stood in front of him. She tipped her head back and reached out, her palm cupping his hard cheek. “You’re the one who makes me feel whole. And I don’t intend to give that up for anything.”
A heartbreaking smile curved his lips, and then he was leaning down and kissing her, holding her tight against him. “I’m crazy about you, Alyssa Block. And I can’t wait to stand in front of those cameras and declare you as my partner in all ways.”
“I spoke with Chloe and told her I loved you,” she said in between kisses. “She’s thrilled.”
“Told you. Now, let’s get to Mia and plan our strategy to take on the world.”
“Let’s start with New York State and work our way up.”
He pressed his forehead to hers and laughed, and she laughed with him.
twelve
The hotel suite smelled like gardenias and adrenaline. She stood at the window of the forty-second floor and looked out at Manhattan, cataloguing the lights, the grid, and the organized chaos of 8.3 million people living their lives below. Today, those people were voting. Or had voted. Most were home, watching their screens and waiting for the same magic number she was.
Fifty-five percent.
