Chapter 8 Isaac
Isaac
“Scheduling conflicts,” I read aloud, mostly to myself. My sister chuckles, sitting back in the chair across from my desk, typing on her phone with a grin, as if my whole world wasn’t crashing down around me. “What the fuck is so funny, Nikki?”
“Of course she tried to pull out of the conference. Did you really think a single coffee delivery would have the next California Governor prancing to you with open arms in slow motion through a field, like a really bad perfume commercial? We’re playing the long game here.
You want her thinking about you when she wakes up, when she goes to yoga, when she’s eating nachos, when she goes to bed…
The only way you’re going to woo Olivia is if you put the work in. Every. Single. Day.”
“She’s not coming in person,” I groan, rubbing my hand down my face. “It backfired.”
“Did it? If she didn’t have feelings for you, she’d attend. If the roles were reversed, and she was hosting, I don’t know, a gala or something, would you go?”
“In a heartbeat.”
Nicole finally glances up from her phone.
“Because you’re willing to risk your entire political career on a hypothetical chance of winning back the love of your life.
But this isn’t one of those made-for-TV movies where she moves to another country to be with her college boyfriend after a five-day summit. ”
“That’s… incredibly specific. What movie is it?”
“You’re a fucking idiot. Women in power—and certainly not someone like Olivia who just became the first female Governor of her state—don’t throw their dreams away because of a man. She’s protecting herself, as she should.”
I let out a long sigh, hating how she’s right. “It’s hopeless.”
“No, but if you want her, really want her, you’re going to have to sacrifice everything to make it work.
You may have to resign, move to the US, become a citizen…
It’s a lot to consider. I’m on board to help you make it happen, but a coffee delivery is only the first step.
You want her to come to the summit, you’ll need to personally invite her. ”
Without a second thought, I pull up my incoming call log on my cell and click on it. My thumb hovers over the little phone icon, but only for a moment before pressing it. I put it on speaker and Nikki’s eyes are wide as she whisper-shouts, “What are you doing?”
At the second ring, Olivia answers, “Hello?”
My heart swells at hearing her voice. “Hey, Livy, I have an email that there’s a scheduling conflict, and thought it best to reach out myself to see if there would be another week that would work better for you and your team.”
Her voice is muffled as she tells someone, “He wants to know if there’s a better week.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” a woman huffs. Her voice becomes clearer as she greets, “Hello, Prime Minister.” I’d recognize Aubrey’s sass anywhere and should’ve anticipated she’d be there.
“Ms. Raine, it’s been too long.”
“We regret to inform you that due to recent media attention, it’s in the best interest of the Governor-elect to not attend your event.”
“Please let Olivia know that I’ll move the meeting to any week of her choosing.”
“Damn it, Isaac,” she hisses. “I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation. It’s five in the fucking morning here, and I have an entire team at Olivia’s place doing damage control because someone decided to internet stalk her.”
“Does he know about the memes?” someone distant asks.
“Fuck the memes,” Aubrey snaps. “Isaac, my best friend was just elected as the first female Governor here. She thought she could still do her volunteer work, and now there’s this international summit which focuses on the very thing she’s been championing throughout her campaign.
You have to see how bad this looks. My friend with a fucking heart of gold is now a political pawn.
You’re jeopardizing all of the hard work she’s put in. ”
“Do you have me on speaker?”
“Yes.”
My jaw tics, but I stuff down my frustration. “Livy, are you still there?”
“Yeah.” She clears her throat. “Yes, I’m here.”
“All of this is bigger than you and me,” I admit.
“Yes, I’ve seen the tabloid rumors, but it’ll die down in a few months.
President Taylor has requested that Canada host this, so if it’s because you don’t want to see me, I’ll send someone in my place.
I want you to be comfortable, but most of all, you deserve the credit for bringing international attention to the issue. ”
“Ned Collins here,” a man chimes in. “Ms. Harris will be in attendance.”
“I’ll what?” Livy gasps.
“I’ll have polling done, and if it’s in her best interest to attend, she’ll be there.” A wide grin splits my face as he continues, “But we’ll need to ask that you refrain from any social media marketing or announcements until after she’s sworn in… and no more coffee deliveries.”
“Consider it done.”
As we wrap up the call, I ensure my team will coordinate with her security and administrative staff to handle everything for her arrival.
We hang up and I sit back in my chair, feeling more alive than I have in over a decade.
I’ve been complacent over the years, letting advisors do most of the heavy lifting.
We need to expand our national school food programs, and feeding our kids is one cause nearly all of Parliament can get behind.
At Nikki’s suggestion, I wait a few hours, then send off a text to Olivia. I keep it harmless, in case someone on her team is monitoring her phone.
Thank you.
She doesn’t respond for at least fifteen minutes—which can now be clocked as the longest fifteen minutes of my life.
Livy
You’re welcome.
While I’d hoped for more of a reply from her, I’ll take what I can get.
The rest of the day is spent meeting with various policy and economic experts to see how feasible it is to expand our current program.
We’ve outlined a plan with qualitative and quantitative research, which is a great start.
It’ll need the buy-in of all provinces, as well as Inuit, First Nations, and Métis governments, but we should be able to have it fully funded in less than five years.
After a long day at the office, I get in a quick workout and shower, then climb into bed. As I’m plugging in my phone, there’s a new message from Livy that catches my attention.
Are you sure this is a good idea?
I contemplate my reply for precisely two seconds. There’s no harm in a little innocent banter.
I thought you don’t call boys.
There are little dancing bubbles at the bottom of my screen for entirely too long, and I’m moments away from double-texting when her reply appears.
I’m not calling, I’m texting. And once upon a time you insisted you weren’t a boy.
I give her a chance to tell me why she’s messaging me so late, even if it’s only 8 p.m. her time. Just as I’m about to brave another message, her name pops up with an incoming call. My fingers move faster than they should, answering on the first ring, “Hey, Livy.”
“Hey, I…” She sighs out a long breath. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea for me to come.”
“Why not?” I know the answer, but need to hear it.
“Because of this. It’ll hurt too much.” There are a few beats of unbearable silence before she asks, “Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if things were different?”
Not wanting to assume anything, I hedge, “Doesn’t everyone?”
“I just mean…”
“I know what you meant, Olivia.” My voice comes out a bit more flirtatious than intended, making her breath catch. “What exactly do you wish was different?”
“What if I had gone to grad school in Canada?”
“Well, you probably wouldn’t be Governor,” I counter.
“I know. And you wouldn’t be Prime Minister.”
I straighten my posture until my back is resting against my headboard. “Why not?”
“Because you’d be some higher-up at UNICEF.”
“True,” I admit. “And you never would’ve married someone else.”
“You can’t hold that against me,” she chokes out, and while I hate that she’s upset, she has every right to be for my overstepping.
“I don’t. But it doesn’t change the fact that if things were different as you suggested, you’d be my wife, and we would’ve spent the last fifteen-or-so years together.
” My sister would scold me for saying any of this, but I still add, “It doesn’t matter that we haven’t spoken in over a decade, the time we spent apart is irrelevant.
If there’s even a small chance that you and I could be together, I guarantee I wouldn’t make the same mistake I did last time. ”
She gasps. “What did you just say?”
“You and I both know you’d be my wife, Livy.”
“No. What did you say about our time apart?”
“That it’s irrelevant.”
“What the fuck?” she whispers to herself, then tells me, “I’m sorry, I need to go.”
“Liv—”
She hangs up on me, and I groan, resting the back of my head against the padded headboard. I pushed too hard, too fast. Scouring my memories for any possible reason she would freak out over those little words, I come up empty.
Even with her quick departure, two things are certain: Livy still has feelings for me… and if I have any say in it, she will absolutely be my wife one day.