Chapter 27 – Jack
JACK
The conference room had been going for three hours by the time Jack checked his watch and registered that it was six-fifteen.
Now, Farris had shown up with donors from the state party to explore Jack’s possible congressional run. He was supposed to take an hour, so most everyone else left for dinner. Then Hallicks wanted everyone back for “crisis planning” about the upcoming close of the state legislature.
Jack didn’t like the scattered agenda, but he appreciated Farris and the money guys showing up.
Luke’s party had started at six, fifteen minutes ago, so he was already late.
He'll understand, Jack told himself. Hadn't he told Luke to be cool about Friday?
His phone sat face down on the table where he'd left it at four. Military habit—no distractions during briefings. He left it there.
Farris was the one who kept extending things. The congressional liaison was in town from Denver and had only this availability to meet. He moved through the agenda like momentum was everything, and a single pause would bring it all to a halt.
At six-forty, he'd leaned forward over the table and looked directly at Jack.
"The window I'm describing is real," Farris said. "It doesn't stay open indefinitely. We need people in this district who can win and know what they're doing when they get there. You're that person." He sat back. "But the groundwork has to start soon."
Jack nodded. Aware, in a separate and parallel part of his brain, that it was six forty-two and that he had not looked at his phone.
He told himself he'd check at the next break.
There wasn't a break until seven-fifteen, when Hallicks went to the cabinet in the corner to get another bottle of wine.
Jack excused himself and headed to the men's room.
In the hallway, he checked his phone.
Luke (6:45): “Everything okay?”
He could picture it: Luke moving through the party, covering, making it look easy because that was what Luke did.
He typed back: “Still in it. I'll get there.” And walked back into the conference room.
By eight, Hallicks had opened a third bottle, and someone had ordered more food. Jack's leg had been bouncing under the table for an hour.
He checked his phone in his lap.
Luke (7:30): “People are asking.”
Luke (8:05): “Never mind.”
Seven missed calls. Texts from Mara, from Suze.
He looked at the screen for a moment. Then he looked up at the table, at Hallicks, Farris, two other faculty members, and support staff, all of them mid-conversation, clearly not done.
He ran the calculation.
Nine o'clock. He could be there by nine.
Except
Luke (8:05): “Never mind.” The door had closed. And walking out now, with Farris mid-sentence, would mean something to the people in this room. Would mean something for what he was trying to build.
Better to handle it tomorrow. Apologize properly. Give it the full attention it deserves.
He heard that thought and recognized, somewhere behind it, the specific quality of the lie within it. The idea that Luke deserved his full attention tomorrow. When the current thing was resolved. When there was room.
There was always a current thing.
He typed: “I can't get away. I'm really sorry. Have a great night.”
Sent it. Turned the phone over. Looked up.
"Sorry," he said. "Go ahead."
The meeting broke up at eight-forty.
Jack walked to his Jeep and did the math. The party invitation said it would end at nine o'clock. He could make the last few minutes and be there for the end.
He sat with that.
Then he thought about the room. Mara's face. Suze's. All those people who'd been there all evening, watching Luke cover for the man who hadn't shown up. Jack walking in at eight fifty-five, as people were getting their coats.
Luke deserved better than that entrance. That's what he told himself.
In the empty conference room, Jack finally opened his phone and read through everything—all of it, in order, the way you read an after-action report when you already know it ended badly.
Luke (6:45): “Everything okay?”
Luke (7:30): “People are asking.”
Luke (8:05): “Never mind.”
Mara (8:20): “Seriously, Jack. Where are you?”
Suze (8:35): “He's not going to say anything, but I will. This is not okay.”
Jack set the phone on the table.
He thought about the Sunday he'd left Luke's bed, already halfway back to the office in his head. The door closing while Luke said, "Drive safe,” in a voice that asked for nothing. He thought about I love you and what he'd said back.
Thank you.
Like a man receiving information he'd handle at a more convenient time.
He'd told himself that was reasonable caution. Luke would understand.
It instantly occurred to him that Luke understood him completely, probably better than Jack understood himself. Luke had extended grace and patience, and the kind of room you give someone when you're hoping they'll grow into it and eventually choose you.
Jack had used that breathing room to make absolutely no effort.
Anna had tried to tell him the same thing at the end. He'd nodded, filed it, and moved on. He'd felt bad about hurting Anna, but it also felt like he was watching yet another person get mildly annoyed at him.
About Luke, though? He felt absolutely wrecked. And the difference was the whole point.
He loved Luke. Really, truly, totally—more than he’d loved Anna or anyone else. He’d kept that knowledge on a shelf, waiting for a convenient time to deal with it. As if love could be scheduled.
He remembered that a birthday gift he'd bought two weeks ago was in his closet waiting to be delivered. He'd bring it tomorrow.
It wasn't much. But it was a reason to show up.
He turned off the conference room lights and stood for a moment in the dark.
He had made the wrong choice.