Chapter 7 Olivia
Olivia
I brave one of my social media apps until my nine minutes are up.
As predicted, I have thousands of new follow requests for my team to vet, but my eyes snag on one name in particular—Isaac.
It’s technically the official account for whoever is the current Prime Minister.
Still, seeing his name still makes my breath catch.
He’s liked several of my recent posts, but I shouldn’t read into it; it’s likely his social media team at work.
An email notification pops up at the top of my screen, and I groan. Sure enough, it’s my own social media manager, Tracy. I swear the woman can always sense when I’m online. I reluctantly check it.
To: Olivia Harris
From: Tracy Jacobson
Subject: Social Media Followers
Hi Olivia,
I know your phone is likely on DND and you’re headed to yoga shortly, but if you could please call me as soon as you can to let me know how to proceed regarding Prime Minister Banks.
He’s now following you on your personal and official accounts and liked the last twelve posts of ours.
With the upcoming unannounced event, I’m going to follow him back on your official account and like one or two of his posts.
Also, I’ve perused your recent followers, which now include several celebrities and a few nonprofits. I’m in the process of creating a spreadsheet for your review.
With gratitude,
Tracy Jacobson
Social Media Director
Harris for Governor
If I have to tell her about Isaac, I don’t want it in writing. I quickly pull up her contact information and call, grateful when she picks up on the second ring. “Good morning, Governor-elect Harris.”
“Seriously, Tracy,” I chuckle. “One, you’re not in office, so no formalities are needed—”
“I am in office,” she interjects flatly.
“It’s four in the morning.”
“Here on the West Coast, yeah, but—”
“No buts,” I cut her off, then sigh, “I’m sorry. You’re right that the internet doesn’t wait for us to wake up. However, it’s imperative that you rest! It’s been a crazy few days between the election and the recent viral videos. I can’t have you burning out on me.”
“Noted, but there really is more,” she admits ominously.
“Fuck. What is it?”
“Aubrey and I have been trying to get ahold of you for hours. I reminded her that you keep your phone on DND, so she’s been pacing in the office until you called.
The White House has accepted their invitation to attend a formal meeting in Canada with the Prime Minister and other world leaders—it’s the one you were telling us about yesterday. ”
“Why is that a problem?”
“Because,” she huffs, “it’s with the caveat that you’re there. Aubrey insisted you’d be attending remotely, but the President requested that it be in person.”
“I don’t understand.” I sit up, propping my pillows behind me. “I personally told the President and VP I would attend remotely. Why the sudden change? What has everyone been saying?”
“There are memes, ma’am.”
Fuck, I hate when she calls me ma’am. “Spit it out, Tracy.”
“Sorry, but after President Taylor insisted you come to this summit—or whatever it is—and now Prime Minister Banks is basically stalking your socials like a drunk ex… everyone is shipping you and the Prime Minister. You’re also showing up on a lot of book-related forums and posts.
The hashtag ‘barris’ is trending. We can put out a statement, but it may fuel the fire.
We have a specialist here in office to assist. To be fair, what’s hotter than a political romance? ”
“I’ll be there within the hour,” I grit out.
“No, not until we figure out a plan. Ned is recommending you stay there, so Aubrey, Ned, and I will come to you.”
“Who the hell is Ned?”
“Ned Collins,” he greets, though he sounds more distant than Tracy does. “My apologies we haven’t been introduced, Ms. Harris. Kristin Proctor, the President’s Chief of Staff, connected me with yours. I assist with damage control.”
“Hi, Ned. Thank you for your help. Everything sort of spread like wildfire.”
“Indeed it did. There’s a very good chance the media is camped outside your home right now, so as Ms. Jacobson mentioned, we’ll come to you.”
I’m still processing everything; all I can do is nod in agreement.
“Ms. Harris?”
“Yes, sorry, I’m here. I’ll see all of you shortly.”
We hang up, and I groan into my pillow. “Can’t I have one moment of peace?”
Unsure when they’ll be here, I launch out of bed, getting ready faster than I did the morning Isaac picked me up for coffee.
I pause, mid-brush of my hair.
“Fuck. I have to find a way out of this,” I mutter to my reflection.
Once I’m dressed, I rush to the kitchen and fill my water kettle.
I also prepare my pod coffee maker—I have a feeling we’re all going to need an abundance of caffeine for the rest of the day.
A few minutes later, Aubrey lets herself in with Tracy and a man, who I assume is Ned, in tow.
They meet me in the kitchen, and Aubrey makes herself at home, setting up laptops and materials at my kitchen table.
“Ms. Harris,” the man greets, offering his hand. “Ned Collins. Pleasure to finally meet you.”
“I wish I could say the same,” I chuckle. “Rumor has it you’re only called upon when things are an absolute mess.”
With a wide grin, he adjusts his plastic-frame glasses. “Yes. I have a bit of a reputation. Rest assured, I’ve yet to be handed a crisis that couldn’t be managed.”
“I’ll hold you to that. Can I get anyone coffee or tea?”
“Do you have anything stronger?” Aubrey teases, sauntering over to my coffee pod collection. She settles on a blonde roast and makes herself a cup.
Tracy insists she’ll get her own, but I prep a dark roast anyway, adding the caramel creamer I keep on hand for her. Ned politely asks for a cup of Earl Grey with a splash of milk.
While Ned and Tracy get set up at my dining table, Aubrey quietly asks me, “How are you holding up?”
I shrug and keep my voice low as I reply, “I’ve been better.”
“We can back out of the summit completely.” She wraps an arm around my shoulder. “I’ll tell them there’s a scheduling conflict.”
“Maybe.” Once everyone has beverages in hand, I hedge, “So, how bad is it?”
“I’ll need a full breakdown of your relationship with the Prime Minister,” Ned replies before anyone else.
I glare at Aubrey, and she shakes her head once. It’s too early to unpack my emotional baggage, so I settle on, “I don’t have a relationship with him.” Not technically a lie.
He cocks an eyebrow. “Are we really going to get into semantics here? In the past twelve hours, I’ve been able to secure information that says otherwise. It’s only a matter of time before the whole world knows you dated him in college.”
Tracy squeaks. “You dated the Prime Minister?”
“That was fifteen years ago,” Aubrey chimes in. “How is it even newsworthy? No one is going to care that they were together for what, four months? It was a semester in college. A blip.”
While I appreciate that she’s covering for me, it was anything but a blip, and she knows it.
I fell hard and fast for him, and never recovered.
Since the cat is out of the bag, I admit, “Yes, I dated Isaac for a semester in college. He moved back to Canada, I finished my degree and moved to California. Haven’t heard from him since.
” Aubrey narrows her eyes on me. “Okay, so we did hear from him a couple of days ago, on election night, but it was just him congratulating me. Nothing more.”
“I wouldn’t count on that being the story,” Ned sighs.
“You had footage go viral on all social media platforms, and it made international news. While you were getting your beauty sleep, the Prime Minister invited our President and her team to attend a summit to discuss food insecurity, with a focus on women, children, and the homeless. The timing is suspicious, being the day after you spoke about how your first order of business in office is to expand the free school lunch program. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out they’re connected. ”
“Do you know why the President has requested I attend in person? Both her and the VP are aware of my previous relationship.”
“They knew?” Tracy gasps, glancing between the rest of us. “It’s only a matter of time before an old photo leaks. I need to get ahead of it.”
“No need, Ms. Jacobson,” Ned insists. Pulling his tea bag from the cup, he sets it on the saucer, then takes a small sip before continuing. “We’ll address it if anything surfaces. In the meantime, the President cannot attend and is sending Vice President Vasileiou in her place. We need—”
“Ms. Harris?” my security advisor says flatly as he enters my kitchen. It startles all of us except Ned.
“Westley, what on earth are you doing here this early?”
“I asked him here,” Aubrey answers for Wes. “If we need to increase security, he’ll need to begin the hiring process.”
He takes a seat at the table, brows pinched as he scrolls his tablet. Not looking away from it, he adds, “We anticipated the increased presence when you won the election, but after yesterday, you won’t be able to volunteer without an escort… or three.”
“This is bullshit,” I grumble, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning back in my chair.
“No, you’re no longer a state representative.
You’re Governor-elect,” Ned muses, sipping his tea.
“We have a lot to cover and not a lot of time to do it. So, let’s start at the top with what I know, and you can fill in the missing pieces.
Isaac Banks. You briefly dated in college, were essentially no-contact for a decade and a half, and he called to congratulate you on your win the other night. ”
“Correct,” I confirm.
“He left a voicemail,” Aubrey adds while typing something on her computer.
“And… I called him back.” Everyone’s eyes pull from their devices and are on me in an instant. “It would’ve been rude to not thank him for the call.”
Tracy’s lips part in disbelief, but she quickly reins it in, straightening her posture. “You called him back?”
“Yes, of course I did. A world leader calls to congratulate you; it’s the respectful thing to do.”
“No, it’s what your communications director should’ve done, not you.” Aubrey sighs, “You and Isaac have history.”
I’m about to reply when Wes presses his fingers to his earpiece, his frown lines are deeper than usual. “There’s a delivery.” Without further explanation, he’s out of his seat and rushing to my front door.
“Do you think it’s a threat?” Tracy quietly asks, fingers poised on her keyboard.
Ned chuckles to himself. “It’s a threat, but not the kind you think.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Aubrey snaps.
“Livy has the press outside of her house, her ex is spam-liking her social media posts, and we have to figure out what the hell to do about her attending this event in Canada. Oh, and that conference? It’ll be in the middle of winter in fucking Ottawa.
Ottawa! In case you didn’t know, we’ve been in California, which is basically sparkles and sunshine eleven months out of the year.
Do you think I want my best friend to travel to some tundra shit after she fought for over a decade to live her dream? ”
“The Prime Minister isn’t going to host this summit in an igloo,” Tracy chuckles, typing something on her laptop.
“It may as well be!” Aubrey’s arms are wide as she lets out an exasperated huff. While I appreciate her trying to stand up for me, this is bigger than all of us. Our attendance has nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with my best friend worrying about me seeing my ex again.
Westley enters with a coffee carrier containing a single drink. “Sorry, ma’am. This isn’t vetted, but there was a delivery of a”—he checks the cup—“vanilla, caramel, no foam, extra whip latte. It’s my recommendation that you don’t drink it.”
“It should be fine, I’ve put tracking on any and all food service deliveries to ensure safety for you and your staff. But moving forward, even when vetted by me, we need to be mindful of all deliveries,” Ned insists.
My breath catches. Did Isaac really send me my favorite coffee, or was it a stalker? I’m speechless, and thankfully, Aubrey finds out for me, “Is there a sender?”
“No.” Wes shakes his head and I grab the coffee, bringing it to my sink.
I don’t need to check it. Both Aubrey and I know exactly who would send me what was my favorite drink before my metabolism decided that was no longer an option.
As I pull off the cap, I whisper to myself, “I’m sorry, Isaac,” as I pour it down the sink.
It isn’t the calories, or the delivery, I need…
time. Fifteen years weren’t enough to put space between us.
My heart can’t handle it if it's really from him.
“Livy,” Aubrey says softly, cupping her hand on my shoulder. Keeping her voice low enough only I can hear, she reminds me, “I was there when he had to leave, and when you finally broke it off. You know that was from him.”
“It’s not from him,” I insist, struggling to keep my composure.
“It was,” Ned shouts from the table. “The internet is a glorious thing, Ms. Harris. Unfortunately, nothing is private, and I can confirm where the purchase came from. Please come sit so we can discuss options.”
Aubrey quietly asks me, “What do you need? I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. If you need me to be a cunt, I’ll call Banks myself and tell him to never contact you again.”
What do I want? I don’t know what Isaac is up to, but it’s too late for us.
Our paths took us to places that we can’t come back from.
I finally look at Aubrey. “No. We keep this professional. I’m not sure why Isaac sent it, but I’m going to need you to handle it if he does anything else.
” Lowering my voice to barely a whisper, my voice cracks as I admit, “I can’t do this a second time. ”
Without skipping a beat, Aubrey smirks with a wink, then once we’re seated at the table, she recites to the group as she types on her laptop, “Governor-elect Harris will not attend the proposed event by Prime Minister Banks in person, due to scheduling conflicts. If they’d like her input, she’ll be attending remotely. ”