Chapter 18
SEBASTIAN
I’d been sitting in Kendra Bancroft’s campaign headquarters in a brick building overlooking Portland’s harbor for the better part of three hours, fielding questions about crisis management, opposition research, and media buys from her team.
I’d just finished walking them through the strategies I'd devised for a high-profile governor's re-election campaign and how I'd worked tirelessly to get Wyatt's last bill over the finish line when Michael Chen leaned back in his chair, linking his fingers together on top of his stomach. “Hastings told me you’re the best in the business, and we’d be idiots not to hire you.”
To my right, Kendra's communications director—a well-dressed man named David Reyes who’d spent forty-five minutes grilling me on media management strategies—wrote something down on a legal pad.
“Hastings isn’t exactly generous with praise, so the fact that he gave you a full-throated endorsement says a lot. ”
Unbidden, a memory of Wyatt on his knees, my cock down his throat, flashed through my mind.
I sputtered, covering my mouth and trying to play it off as a cough.
David couldn’t possibly know the double entendre he’d just lobbed my way. Full-throated indeed.
Wyatt’s endorsement did say a lot, though. For all his faults, the man understood politics. He wouldn’t risk his reputation vouching for someone who couldn’t deliver, and I was damn good at what I did.
But I also knew him well enough to wonder if his putting my name forward wasn’t some sort of twisted power play—a reminder that he could make or break my career with a single phone call.
“I spoke with Hastings at length about the work you did on that data privacy bill,” Kendra cut in, her sharp eyes assessing.
“How you were able to reframe the conversation around constant tracking, then putting a spotlight on data brokers. Once voters understood their information was being bought and sold by companies they’d never even heard of, stalling the bill became a liability.
That’s the kind of behind-the-scenes strategizing I’ve been looking for. ”
“Voters don’t care about abstract concepts like ‘data rights.’ That’s just a buzzword,” I explained.
“They care when they realize companies are tracking their kids’ locations or selling their medical histories to insurance brokers without consent.
Make it personal, and suddenly everyone has an opinion.
The Republicans on the committee had to back it.
Their offices were being flooded with messages of support. ”
I knew something about the value of privacy … about what happened when information could be weaponized against you if it fell into the wrong hands. I’d built a career on understanding how information moved and how to control the narrative—because I had to.
Michael and Kendra exchanged a glance. Her eyebrow lifted fractionally, while his mouth tilted to the side, some wordless agreement passing between them.
“Merrick’s team is throwing everything at us,” Kendra continued, tapping her pen against her notepad. “He’s got more money than sense, and a PR firm that’s very good at making him seem palatable.”
“I’m not going to lie—he’s done a good job of pulling the wool over a lot of people’s eyes with his folksy town halls and ‘aw shucks’ videos,” I said, resting my forearms on the table. This was the part I loved—dissecting an opponent’s strategy and finding the cracks in their armor to exploit.
“Exactly,” Michael agreed. “He’s spent the past six months positioning himself as a common-sense centrist while attacking Kendra from both sides.
One day, he’s calling her a radical socialist to scare moderates, the next he’s turning around and telling progressives she’s a corporate sellout.
” He shook his head. “The man’s saying whatever he thinks whoever’s in front of him at the time wants to hear.
It’s been difficult to know which narrative to counter first.”
David set his pen down and folded his hands in front of him. “We need someone who can advise us on how to effectively cut through his bullshit, because what we’ve been doing has only worked so much.”
“That’s my specialty."
Kendra’s assistant, Maya, who’d been silent for most of the meeting, finally glanced up from her iPad.
“Good. Because Merrick just launched an ad campaign calling himself a ‘real Mainer’ who understands working families.” She used her fingers to make air quotes, her tone bone-dry.
“Never mind that he’s fought for years to block unionization efforts. ”
“We’ll expose that,” I said. “But carefully. Frame it around his hypocrisy, not just attack him for being rich.”
“I like that approach.” Kendra checked her watch, stood, and pulled her blazer from the back of her chair.
“I hate to cut this short, but I have a call in ten minutes with reps from the Maine Teachers Association.” Her eyes flicked to Michael again.
He dipped his chin, and she turned back to me, a smile lifting her cheeks.
Michael rose as well, gathering his things. “I know it’s fast, but how would you feel about starting on Monday?”
Normally, I’d spend a day or two weighing the pros and cons of taking a job like this.
It was a step down in terms of my regular fee.
And while there was some regional attention on the race, I was used to operating on a more national stage.
Honestly, the list of cons was longer than I liked, but there was one pro I couldn’t ignore: it would give me more time with Taylor.
“Monday’s perfect,” I said.
Kendra stepped forward, her hand outstretched.
“Great, welcome aboard. Debate prep is Tuesday, and there’s an important fundraiser on Thursday.
Maya will get you a full schedule for the week by the end of the day tomorrow.
” Her grip was strong and confident as she pumped my hand once and then dropped it.
“Glad to have you with us, Sebastian. I think we can do good work together.”
“I think so, too.”
She and Maya left, leaving me alone with Michael and David.
“Not that I need to warn you,” David began, “but we’re bracing for an ugly fight.
Merrick isn’t afraid to get dirty. Kendra’s hesitant to go on the attack, but we’re seeing rumblings from supposed undecideds questioning whether she’s the right fit.
Sexist, coded, dog-whistle language, but we all know what they mean. ”
“She’s a white woman married to a Black man who also happens to be ‘from away,’ running against a man whose family made their millions in forestry, one of the state’s largest industries,” I summarized, pausing near the door.
“They’ll keep trying to frame her as an outsider, even though she’s lived here practically her whole life.
Our best weapon is her record. We show voters she’s been delivering on their values, while Merrick talks a good game and does the opposite. ”
I turned to address Michael directly. “Has she considered calling it out explicitly?”
“We’ve discussed it, but she’s resistant. Privately, she’s worried about being accused of playing the ‘woman card’ or being called weak.”
I understood Kendra’s concern, but in politics, sometimes you had to do things that made you uncomfortable. In this case, it just so happened to be the right thing.
“We need to find the best moment to make him defend himself,” I said, though I could tell from each man’s expression I was speaking to the choir. “Frame it as Merrick being too cowardly to say what he actually means. Make his racism and misogyny the story, not her response to it.”
“Hopefully you’ll be able to convince her, because so far, I haven’t been able to.”
“Either way, it is going to get ugly,” David added, gesturing for me to precede them out of the room.
“The good news is I’m not afraid of ugly,” I quipped as Michael shook my hand again and peeled off toward the exit.
David turned to me with a grin, giving me a slow, appraising look. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”
Steam rose in whorls around us as Taylor rested against my chest as we lounged in the bathtub.
“This thing is enormous. You could have an orgy in here.”
“It’s one of the reasons I bought the house.”
Realizing how that sounded, he sat bolt upright, causing water to slosh over the edge. “That’s not what I meant.”
I laughed. “Uh-huh.”
“No! I just meant … I’m a big guy. After a game, I like coming back here for a long soak.”
“If you say so.” I grinned, pulling him back down.
“I’m serious,” he protested, tilting his head back and smiling up at me.
My fingers traced idle patterns across his skin, following the curve of his collarbone, the ridge of muscle along his shoulder. When I reached his chest, I paused, my thumb brushing over a dark bruise in the shape of my mouth.
“Sorry about that. Got a little carried away."
“Don’t be. I like it.”
“Yeah?”
His mouth curved into a warm smile. “Reminds me I’m yours.”
I traced the mark again. “Remember the last time I gave you one of these?”
We’d been drunk and horny, and I’d told him I wanted to mark him.
He’d laughed and pointed out that no one would know I’d been the one to do it, but tilted his head to the side anyway.
I’d gone at him like a fucking vampire, sucking half his neck into my mouth.
When I finally pulled away, the hickey was nearly the size of a tangerine.
He'd told his friends the vacuum got stuck to his neck.
Taylor laughed, the sound rumbling through his back into my chest. “Oh god. That was the worst.”
“It was pretty terrible,” I agreed, grinning at the memory.
“You were so determined.” He shifted slightly, turning his head to meet my eyes.
“I wanted so badly for everyone to know you were mine.”
“I was yours,” he said quietly. “I just didn’t know it yet.”
I wrapped my arms more fully around him, one hand splayed across his sternum where I could feel his heartbeat. We sat in silence, the only sound the gentle lap of water against the sides of the tub and our quiet breathing.
“So,” Taylor said eventually. “Monday.”
“Monday,” I echoed.
“They’re putting you up downtown?”
“Corporate housing across the street from the office. Nothing fancy.”
"Have they given you your schedule yet?"
“Michael said to expect sixteen-hour days for the next three weeks at least.”
He traced a pattern on the inside of my calf with his toe. “And I’ve got pre-season starting Wednesday. Coach is going to run us into the ground.”
Conceptually, I'd known this was going to be difficult. But laying it all out like this drove that point home in a way I didn't think Taylor had fully been able to appreciate until now.
We were about to have wildly different schedules, made even worse by his team's travel schedule.
We'd be exhausted and under constant stress.
Not only from our respective jobs, but from sneaking around, too.
I was seriously considering renting a long-term Airbnb, somewhere between the arena and my office, so if we found ourselves with a single free moment, we could meet up there to remind each other why we were putting ourselves through this.
"This is going to suck so bad," he whined.
I pressed a kiss to his temple. “And you're sure you still want to do this?”
"Like I said before, something is better than nothing. So stop asking me already."
He was right, of course. It was better than nothing. But it still felt like I was asking him to settle for scraps when he deserved so much more.
“Hey. We’ll make it work.” Taylor rolled in my arms to face me properly, causing more water to slosh over the edge of the tub. Now I understood why the previous owners put a washer and dryer up here.
"I just keep thinking about how unfair this is to you. That I'm asking for too much. That you shouldn't have to hide for me.” My hands settled on his hips under the water, my middle fingers pressing into the dimples on his lower back.
“You’re not asking for anything,” Taylor said firmly. “I chose this. I chose you. Yes, it’s going to be hard. But I spent ten years without you. I’m not doing that again. If this is what we have to do, this is what we'll do.”
I searched his eyes, looking for doubt, for resentment, for any sign at all that he didn’t mean it.
All I found was certainty.
“Okay,” I whispered.
“Besides,” he said, biting his bottom lip, his eyes dancing. “Remember how hot it used to be to sneak around back in college?”
I laughed despite myself. “I remember it being scary.”
Taylor’s eyebrow arched, a smirk playing at his lips. “So that time in the library was scary?”
It had been ... something, but scary wasn't it.
Taylor had found me in the stacks and had wordlessly dropped to his knees, the spines of American history books visible behind his head.
Dust motes fluttered in a shaft of sunlight from the window that looked out over the quad.
I’d clamped my hand over my mouth to keep from making a sound, my free hand tangled in his hair as he swallowed me down.
An elevator dinged in the distance, and footsteps that may or may not turn down our row at any moment sounded nearby.
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as I shot down his throat.
After, he popped back up and kissed me deeply. I tasted myself on his tongue, my body trembling as I reached for his belt. He caught my wrist, pressed his lips to my ear, and whispered, “Tonight.” Then he turned and strolled away like he hadn’t just rocked my entire fucking world.
“If we had been caught …”
“But we weren’t,” he pointed out, shifting onto his back again. “It was hot.”
I huffed out a laugh. “Okay, fine. It was hot.”
The water was cooling around us, and I knew we should probably go to bed. Taylor had an early workout tomorrow morning, and I had a campaign schedule to memorize.
But I let myself have this for a few more minutes. Luxuriated in the weight of his body resting against mine. The steady rhythm of his breathing. The knowledge that in three short days, everything would change.
“Sebastian?”
“Hmm?”
“I love you.”
Even though he’d said it a few times now, it still caught me off guard. Somehow, I couldn’t believe I was this lucky. That this sweet, kind, caring man loved me of all people.
“I love you, too.”
He tangled our fingers together under the water. “We’re going to make this work.”
I dropped a kiss to his neck, hoping like hell he was right.