Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Rayne
Iwake Friday morning alone. DK brought me to bed and promised to stay until I fell asleep. He kept his word, holding me in the secure circle of his arms where I nuzzled in and finally drifted off. As much as I wanted him to spend the night, this was better than facing an inevitable good-bye.
The pillow he occupied still carries his scent. On it sits a handwritten note. I pick up the hotel stationery, my heart hollow, already feeling the void.
Tears well up in my eyes. He touched me just as deeply—a man I barely know, yet somehow bonded with in such a profound way. I could contact him through the app. But no. He didn’t leave that door open. The note was heartfelt… and final.
He’d stuck to the rules, and I can’t be angry about that.
But I’m sad. Really sad.
I dry my eyes, fold the note, and press my lips to it, closing out a short but unforgettable chapter. I kick back the blankets and climb out of bed. A good start. I order coffee and eggs over easy with toast, then turn on my phone to find Lot’s texts.
Lot: Hellooo?
Lot: Girl? Where you at?
Lot: You still alive??? If I don’t hear from you I’m calling the police.
Me: Alive and well.
I respond, faking lightness. It’s safer to focus on the sex than the feelings.
Me: Best dick of my life.
Bubbles immediately appear as if her phone was in hand.
Lot: Yasss! Ending your slump with a big ole bang.
Me:
Lot: I’m gonna forgive the emojis bc u must be feeling yo’self
I’m feeling DK, but I don’t say that.
Lot: Call me. I want to hear all dem deets.
Me: Later. I have a spa appt
Lot: Call me right after.
I put my phone down with a weighted breath. I know that if we had actually talked then, she’d see straight through me. And I don’t want to dwell on things that can’t be.
My run for mayor is where all my energy goes, starting Monday. For now, I get ready for my facial at noon and try my damndest not to think about DK.
“Sorry to disturb you on your vacation,” Anika Simms, my campaign manager, says when she calls Saturday afternoon.
I’ve just had a pedicure, and I’m stretched out on the couch in satin PJs, feet propped on the table, working through a crossword.
My toes are painted Sunkist Coral. I chose the vibrant shade to get me out of my sad-girl vibes.
So far, it’s not working. Thoughts of DK hover on the edge of my mind, moving front and center whenever I’m not otherwise occupied.
Even the crossword’s betraying me. Six-letter word for glum and gloomy.
“Rayne, are you there?”
“Yes,” I say, filling in the squares with morose. “What’s up?” I set the pen and puzzle aside. Anika wouldn’t have called unless it was something.
“I just heard that Diablo hired a big-shot campaign strategist from Washington.”
“Washington?” I sit up straighter.
“He graduated from U Chicago Law School, where Obama once taught. Went into Washington politics right after: policy counselor, advisory work, campaign strategy for governors and senators. Why would someone with his credentials want to manage the reelection of a small-town mayor?”
“Gee, thanks,” I say dryly.
“You know what I mean.”
I do. I’m not offended. I’ve known Anika since we were kids, two idealistic girls with dreams of ruling the world.
She left Bayside for college and worked in Chicago as an aide to a city councillor.
Her resume may not have the same shine as this bigwig from D.C.
, but she’s Bayside-strong, and I trust her.
“Apparently, Diablo’s putting him up in one of his properties,” she adds.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah. I don’t see how it changes our plans. Am I missing something?”
“Well, for one, why does Diablo suddenly need a heavy hitter? As far as he knows, there aren’t any other candidates opposing him. We’ve kept your intention to run under wraps.”
I think about that. “It’s probably not related to the election itself. He’s smart and always looking two moves ahead.”
“The waterfront.”
“Exactly.” My hands clench. “He’s itching to get into bed with big developers.
My guess is he’s stacking the deck with this strategist, who is probably well-connected.
You know how they do, greasing palms? I’m sure he was promised leverage, influence—something. Otherwise, why would he be interested?”
“Mhm. Tighten up those gloves, this is going to be a showdown.”
“A fight I was going to have with Diablo, whether I ran or not.” I lean back, letting the calm settle back in.
“As co-chair of the Waterfront Committee, I wouldn’t let him send in bulldozers unchecked.
We play nice, but he’s well aware of where I stand.
” A smile curves my mouth. “He thinks he can outmaneuver me, but he doesn’t know what’s coming for him. ”
“You right about that. Your announcement’s going to be a major blindside.”
“He’s not expecting me to step into his arena. That’s my advantage.”
“Damn, girl,” she says, her grin audible. “You coming in hot for real.”
“Lit and ready.” I can feel the challenge igniting in me. “Forget this strategist. His credentials and motivation don’t matter. We run this campaign just as planned… and win.”
“Hell yeah.” I can picture her pumping her fist in the air.
“I’ll be back tomorrow. Have the announcement ready.”
“It’s done. I’ll shoot it off unless you want me to wait until you’re here.”
“Send it over.” Usually, I wouldn’t work on my vacation, but this will be a good distraction. Something solid I can focus on to fill the space that feels emptier than it should.