Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“ S he’s not even that great at writing speeches. You riff most of the time because that's your strong suit." Frank leaned forward, his big body taking up half of Teddy's desk, his voice dripping with exasperation. "The after-school program funding, Teddy. That was your priority. And she deliberately screwed it up.”
Teddy leaned back in his chair, the weight of the day pressing on his chest like a physical burden. The chatter in the room swirled around him—Frank’s sharp-edged criticism, Preston’s calculated neutrality, and the murmured voices of others trying to dissect the situation. All of it grated on his nerves.
They were trying to place the blame squarely on Bunny. Was it her responsibility to remind him to sign the documents? Maybe. It was clear she had favored the business grant over the after-school program—he’d seen it in the meticulous care she’d put into her proposal. But had she deliberately withheld the reminder, knowing where her priorities lay? Teddy wasn’t sure. And deep down, did it even matter?
The damage was done, and as mayor, it was his job to fix it. His decisions—or lack of them—had consequences, and this one was spiraling fast. He rubbed his temple, tuning out the voices for a moment, his mind racing to figure out a way forward.
Bunny wasn’t entirely blameless. But neither was he. If anything, this was a reminder of something he already knew: delegation didn’t mean absolution.
“She’s good, don’t get me wrong,” Frank added, though his tone suggested the opposite. “But women like Bunny—they get too emotional, too caught up in their little ideas of what’s best. She oversteps, Teddy. She doesn’t know her place. And this grant proposal? Yeah, it’s a nice win, but it’s not the win we needed.”
He stared at Frank, suddenly seeing his long-time confidant in a different light. A friend who had been by his side through campaigns and late-night debates, sure, but a friend who now sounded... small. Petty. Dismissive.
“Bunny’s little ideas are what keep this office running. She’s the reason half our initiatives even get off the ground.”
Frank scoffed, waving a hand. “Don’t get sentimental. You’re the face of this town. The leader. Not her. And that’s why you need to think bigger. Forget these local squabbles and small-town grants. You should be eyeing the state Senate. Even Congress someday.”
Preston suddenly perked up, his phone sliding into his pocket for the first time in hours. His gaze zeroed in on Teddy, sharp and calculating. It wasn’t admiration or encouragement; it was hunger. Teddy had seen that look before in people sizing up a business opportunity, a stepping stone. That’s exactly how Preston was looking at him now—like he wasn’t a person but a means to an end, a potential ticket to something bigger. It made Teddy’s skin crawl.
Teddy glanced back at Frank, hoping for some grounding, but what he saw in his old friend’s face wasn’t much better. Frank had that same glint in his eye—a mix of ambition and detachment. It wasn’t new. Frank had always been a strategist, someone who lived for the game, the climb. But today, Teddy saw it clearly: Frank wasn’t looking at him, Teddy Carter, the man who loved this town and its people. Frank was looking at "Mayor Carter," the rising political star, a polished figure to parade on a larger stage.
Frank didn’t want what was best for him or for the town. Frank wanted to win, to keep climbing, and he didn’t care who or what got left behind. And Preston? Preston wasn’t even worth the effort.
Teddy’s gaze lingered on Frank for a moment longer before he spoke, his voice low but firm. “You’ve got it all figured out, huh? State Senate, Congress, bigger and better things.”
Frank grinned, clearly not picking up on the edge in Teddy’s tone. “Exactly. You’ve got the charisma, the name recognition—this town is small potatoes, Teddy. You’re meant for more.”
Teddy let out a breath, shaking his head. “That’s not what I want.”
“What do you mean, that’s not what you want? You’re a natural. People love you. You’d have a real shot.”
“I mean, I don’t want to leave this town. I don’t want to miss watching the kids I know play basketball. I want to be there when they graduate. I don’t want to be the guy who smiles on a billboard while someone else handles potholes and snow plows and Mrs. Callahan’s broken bakery door. This is where I’m meant to be.”
Preston took his phone back out of his pocket and began typing furiously.
Frank stared at Teddy like he’d grown a second head. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious.” Teddy’s voice didn’t waver.
Frank sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. When he looked up at Teddy, it was with a father's disappointment. Good thing Teddy had never thought of Frank as a father figure. He knew his father would be proud of the man he'd become.
“Well, if you want to stick around and play small-town hero, fine. But you need to clean this up. This thing with Bunny—it’s a liability. You know what you need to do.”
Teddy nodded slowly. “Yeah, I do.”
Frank stood, clearly satisfied. He opened the door to the outer office and called out, “Bunny? Can you come in here?”
Teddy’s eyes snapped to the doorway as Bunny appeared. She held her head high, her shoulders square, but he noticed the slight hesitation in her step, the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. The sight made his chest tighten, but he knew exactly what he needed to do. There was no other choice.
“You’ll want to take notes, Bunny. I have some personnel changes that I want announced to the town.”
Bunny nodded stiffly, moving to the desk and flipping open her notepad. Teddy’s eyes never left her. Frank looked smug, as if he’d orchestrated this whole thing. Preston kept typing, uninterested.
"Are you ready, Bunny?"
She didn't meet his gaze. She looked pointedly at the notepad, gripping the pen as if her life depended on it. Teddy wanted to snatch it from her hand and kiss each finger. He would do that after he handled the business at hand.
“Effective immediately, Frank Williamson is retiring, and Preston Latham has decided to pursue another job opportunity.”
Frank froze mid-sigh, his hand dropping from his temple as he gaped at Teddy. Preston’s thumbs stopped moving, and he looked up from his phone, wide-eyed.
“Come again?” Frank’s voice was low, disbelieving.
Teddy didn’t even glance his way. He kept his focus on Bunny, whose pen had stilled on the notepad. Slowly, she looked up at him. The sadness melted from her eyes to be replaced by hope. Teddy was going to do everything in his power to keep that hope warm and bright in this dark eyes of hers.
“Also add this: Bunny Chou will be stepping into the role of my campaign manager.”
Frank shot to his feet, his face red. “Are you out of your mind? Campaign manager? She’s—she’s not even a good candidate to be your wife!”
Preston spluttered something unintelligible, his fingers hovering over his phone as if debating whether to text someone or throw it across the room.
But Teddy wasn’t looking at either of them. His gaze was locked on Bunny. Her pen fell from her hand, clattering onto the desk. She just stared at him, her mouth slightly open in surprise. Then, as the chaos of Frank and Preston’s protests continued around them, her lips curved into the smallest, most uncertain smile he’d ever seen.
“Did you get all that?” Teddy asked, his voice cutting through the noise.
Bunny nodded slowly, her smile growing just a fraction. “I didn't accept the job of campaign manager."
"You didn't accept my marriage proposal either, but I'm a patient man. And you're the only one I want in the position."
Bunny's grin widened, transforming her entire face. It was radiant, bright, and completely unguarded. He’d seen her smile plenty of times before but never like this. Never so openly, so brilliantly.
Her lips curved in a way that made him think about how soft they’d felt the last time he’d kissed her. How they’d felt like the start of everything he didn’t know he’d been waiting for. His gaze lingered there, his thoughts slipping into dangerous territory.
He wanted to kiss her. No, he was going to kiss her.
But first, he needed to clear the office of the two men who were currently gaping at them like fish out of water.
Teddy tore his attention away from Bunny—though it took every ounce of willpower he had—and turned toward Frank and Preston. Both men were still mid-protest, sputtering arguments that sounded less like words and more like white noise.
"Gentlemen, you can see yourselves out.”