Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
BARRETT
I toss the folder across the desk. It slides over the glass top and smacks the side of my pen holder.
“Damn it, Nolan. He had no problem with the budget until now. You know as well as I do that Monroe’s called him and put pressure on him to, you know, put pressure on me.”
“You’re absolutely right.” Nolan pushes his glasses to the end of his nose and looks at me from across my desk.
Groaning, I push my chair back and give myself some space.
He flips through some papers and pulls out another sheet. “This was sent today certified mail.”
He tosses it on my desk and I sweep it up, a feeling of dread sinking into my stomach. “What’s this?”
“It’s a letter from the attorney of a Gabriella Winston, also known as the mother of your unwanted baby. She’s raised her price to a hundred thousand,” he sighs.
“Not happening.” I wad the letter up and toss it into the garbage before looking at Nolan again.
I shoot daggers, not necessarily at him, but at the idea that someone would use a topic so sensitive and make it up out of thin fucking air to hurt someone else.
“Does she not have a fucking conscience?”
“These are things you ask yourself before you get involved, Barrett.”
“She’s out of her damn mind if she thinks I’m enabling her on this. Fuck this and fuck her.”
“She’s going to go public.”
“Good for her. Let her. And watch us torch her back in the press. She wants to play, we’ll play.”
“We can’t do that, Barrett. Unlike her, you have a public image to consider.”
“Which is exactly why she’s doing this! She’s going to tank my image to profit, using an abortion as the kicker. That’s fucking sick.”
He starts to argue when a knock raps at the door. Graham pokes his head around the corner. “Am I interrupting?” he asks.
“No,” I grimace, sitting up in my chair. “Come on in.”
He nods to Nolan and shuts the door behind him. Striding across my office, he takes a seat. “I come bearing bad news.”
“Great,” I sigh, wishing this day was over already. “Give it to me.”
“There’s a picture in the paper today.” Graham lays a copy of the Savannah Dispatch on my desk. “That was taken outside the Farm yesterday.”
Grabbing it and looking closely, I see Troy in the Rover. In the passenger seat is Lincoln and in the back, behind Linc, is Alison. Her face is kind of blurry, but it’s her.
Thank God Huxley isn’t visible.
I want to die. I want to crawl into a hole and just sleep until this entire fucking election is over, until everyone stops acting stupid—caring about what I do, what I say, what I support, pegging kids on me that aren’t even mine.
Nolan glares from his spot next to my brother.
“Don’t start,” I grumble, putting my head in my hands. My mind is spinning about whether Alison has seen it or not and what she’ll have to say about it. This is absolutely what she doesn’t want and what I thought I could prevent.
How fucking stupid.
“Barrett,” Nolan says, licking his lips, “this isn’t going to go over well.”
“She’s not even officially coming to see me. She’s technically with Lincoln.”
“Even if she is with your brother, and we both know that’s not true, the media will spin it to discredit you, especially with her history. You know that.”
“Fuck.”
“I’m going to need to get back to my desk and figure out how to deal with this,” he huffs, sticking his paperwork back in his briefcase. “This is exactly what we didn’t need and absolutely what I asked you not to do.”
“I didn’t do anything, Nolan. Nothing wrong.”
He pauses, his hand midair, and looks at me like I’m a child. “You just cost me a day’s work by not being able to control yourself for a little while longer.”
“There’s nothing remotely scandalous about this!”
The air in the room thickens, all of us waiting on someone else to make the next move. I want to get out of here, to find Alison, to make sure she’s okay.
“I knew this was coming.” Graham adjusts his tie and clears his throat. “I have a plan, one neither of you may like, but it’s all I can come up with considering the extenuating circumstances. Let’s use this to our advantage. I know there’s no way Barrett is not going to keep seeing her.”
“How do you know that?” Nolan asks. “He’s seen her for a while now and that’s indicative of the end.”
“Trust me.” Graham looks at me again. “Furthermore, there’s no way the media won’t find out about her past—innocent or not,” he adds as I quirk a brow. “All we can do is to go with it, play it off. Defense in the form of offense.”
“What are you saying?” I ask, leaning forward, my hands together on my desk.
He takes a deep breath and watches Nolan. “I propose we go all in. Make a statement that Barrett is in a relationship with a single mom, that he’s this benevolent man that is taking care of her and her son. Let’s swing the story our way, use it to our advantage.”
Nolan seems to consider the absurdity of this.
“She doesn’t want in the media,” I say, nixing the idea. “There’s no way she’s going to agree to this.”
“Are you going to keep seeing her?” Graham asks.
I think about it for a half of a second. “Yes.”
“Then think of it like this—as much as you want to live in Lala Land and pretend like you can do what you want on the down low, you can’t.
It’s ridiculous to even consider it, Barrett.
So by doing it in the open, as much as she tells you she doesn’t want to do that, you can protect her. Otherwise ... you can’t.”
It makes so much sense coming from Graham. But I know, in the bottom of my gut, this won’t be that simple to Alison.
“If it were just me, I’d be all in,” I say, feeling my resolve wane. “But this decision isn’t just mine.”
“Since when?” Graham jokes. “You always just make decisions about shit and force everyone else to play your game. That’s what this is, in fact. We’ve told you not to see her and yet, here we are, playing along with what you want.”
I don’t answer him, my mind already on the conversation I’m going to have with her.
“I think Graham has a point,” Nolan says finally, standing up. “If you’re hell-bent on seeing this thing through, let’s run with it. Just until the election. It’s not like you’re seriously going to marry this girl or anything.”
Something about the way he says that burns me. I stand too, my chair smacking the wall behind my desk. Graham notices my demeanor and inserts himself before I can blow.
“Exactly,” he says, assuaging Nolan. “So let’s convince Alison this is the right thing and just roll with it until Barrett is finished.” He raises his eyebrows at me, his way of trying to keep me calm.
My chest heaves with frustration as I watch them walk to the door. Nolan turns to face me before he exits.
“You’re going to need to convince her of this pretty quick so we can get our statement out and beat Hobbs to the punch. You know his guys are working on it now.”
Once he’s gone, Graham turns to me. “This is the best I can come up with. I knew this day was coming and I don’t know how else to let you have what you want and keep you from blowing everything in the meantime.”
My shoulders sag forward and I drop my eyes. Guilt trickles through me because he’s right—this election doesn’t just have my dreams attached to its success, but a host of other people’s too.
When I look back up, he’s gone. I buzz Rose to let her know to hold my calls and cancel my appointments for the rest of the day. I text Troy to pick me up out front. Once I’m in the Rover, I call Alison.
On the third ring, she picks up. I grin as soon as I hear her say hello.
“Hey, it’s me,” I say as Troy swerves through traffic towards her house.
“I was just thinking about you.”
I take a large gulp of air. This could blow back in my face so bad, I know it. I feel it in the pit of my stomach. But it does seem like the most logical solution, and truth be told, I want to be with her. Making up my mind once and for all, I go all in. “Are you home?”
“Yeah, I’m just finishing up a bunch of homework. Why?”
“Would it be okay if I swung by for a minute? I want to talk to you.”
“Uh, yeah,” she says. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine. Just want to run a few things by you.”
“I’m here,” she says, trying to sound confident.
I laugh because I’m trying to be sure this will work out too. “I’ll be there in a second.”
The Rover scurries through thankfully light late afternoon traffic and before I know it, we’re pulling up to a little white house with black shutters. I dart out the door and race up the steps, knocking a handful of rapid beats before Alison pulls it open.
She stands in front of me in a pair of jeans with holes in the knees and a light green shirt. She looks like she should be fixing dinner in the kitchen, helping Hux with his homework, and waiting on me to come home for dinner.
I shake the thoughts away because the conversation that’s getting ready to happen could end that visual forever.
“Hey,” she says, a lilt to her voice that lets me know she’s as anxious as I am.
“Hey,” I say, entering the house. It smells like her, like vanilla and cotton, and is decorated in a warm, homey way that makes me feel welcome immediately. “Is Huxley here?”
She shakes her head.
Knowing we’re alone and this might not end well, I can’t pass up the opportunity to kiss her. I begin to pull her to me, but she melts into my chest. Our lips find each other, like they could in the dark, and I memorize every movement, every tug, every feeling of peace she gives me by being her.
She leads me into the living room and we sit on a worn sofa. I think about saying something nice about her home and how pretty she looks, but I can tell she hasn’t seen the article and I don’t want to put it off any longer than necessary.
“So,” I say, taking a deep breath. “Apparently someone snapped a picture last night of you and Linc entering the Farm.”
Her face blanches and her eyes go wide. “How? Where?”
I shrug. “It’s in the Dispatch. It’s of Linc and Troy mostly, but you can see you. Your face isn’t super clear, but it’s you.”