Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 108242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
“Seriously? You think a consensual relationship between two adults will ruin your career?”
“Of course you wouldn’t get it,” she says, exasperation clear in her voice, on her face. “You don’t have to worry about things like that. Nothing could penetrate all those layers of privilege to even touch you.”
In the awkward silence that follows, I set my wine glass down on the coffee table and stand, heading to the kitchen.
“Doc—”
“Is there no hard liquor in this whole damn place?” I cut in, ignoring all of them and going straight for the stainless-steel refrigerator as soon as I enter the kitchen.
The swinging door behind me opens, but I don’t turn.
“I’m sorry,” Lennix says.
I don’t answer but keep moving things around in the fridge in the quest for something to drink. I’d settle for a beer.
“Did you hear me, Doc?”
I close the refrigerator and turn to face her. Even though she’s just across the room, it feels like we’re farther apart. “I like bourbon.”
She blinks and frowns. “Okay. I’ll get some.”
“Ask Jin Lei.”
“Ask her…what?”
“The bourbon. She knows the one.”
“All right.”
“Fine.” I lean against the counter and wait for her to go on.
She licks her lips and heaves a sigh. “I said I’m sorry.”
“We won’t work if I’m some idea to you, Nix. If I’m a concept. I’m your man, not ‘one of them.’”
“I don’t think you’re one of them.” She leans against the wall and crosses her arms over her chest. “But I do think there are things about my experience, what it means to negotiate my life in this world, that you don’t, can’t understand.”
“I know that. I was born with platinum spoons in my mouth. A whole set, if I’m honest, and you’re right. I have layers and layers of privilege I couldn’t shed if I tried. I don’t want to shed them. If I didn’t have those advantages, I couldn’t leverage them for people who don’t.”
She draws a deep breath and nods. “Thank you for seeing that. It’s what allies should do, and you’ve always done an excellent job of it. I didn’t mean to imply you don’t. I’m sorry for that, but maybe you can understand my hesitation about people finding out we’re together until the campaign is over.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand or agree. I don’t give a fuck what people think.”
“Even not giving a fuck is a privilege I don’t have,” she says, her frown back. “It’s not about that. It’s about understanding how people’s minds work, about their assumptions. They’ll think Owen chose me because I’m sleeping with you, not because I was the best person for the job. Can you even grasp what it means for a Native American girl raised on the rez and a black woman to be running the campaign for the probable next president of the United States?”
The weight of it, the pride tucked into the crevices of her words, dismantles all my reasons for pushing back on this. I breathe through a sinking feeling at what I need to do, to tell her.
“I suggested that Owen hire you and arranged for you to be on Beltway with him.”
Her eyes saucer, and her mouth drops open. “You what?”
“Baby, I—”
“Do not call me baby right now.”
“He would have hired you anyway.”
“But you just helped him along by recommending that pretty little thing you fucked years ago?”
“Don’t be reductive.”
“I’m being reductive?” She slams her hand against the wall, fury spitting from her eyes. “So if I had been a man, I wouldn’t have this job now because a man doesn’t have a pussy for you to play with.”
“Dammit, Nix.”
“How dare you manipulate something this important for your own ends, your own desires? This is the fate of a nation, and you wanted me back in your bed so you arranged for your brother to hire me?”
“It’s not that simple. You were the best for the job. He recognized that, or he wouldn’t have brought you on.”
“Oh, I know Owen wouldn’t have hired me if he didn’t believe I could do it. I’m talking about you. Did you even care that I could do it? Or did you just want me back?”
“Both,” I say with unflinching honesty. “I believed you could do the job, and I would have done anything to get you back. You can call that privilege or arrogance. I don’t know what it is, and I don’t actually care. I care about you. About us.”
I cross the kitchen in a few strides, coming to stand right in front of her, placing my arms on either side of her head, caging her against the wall with my body. She holds herself stiffly, looking down at the floor, a ring of tension around the lush curves of her mouth.
“I’m sorry,” I say, dipping to kiss the tight line of her jaw.
“Doc, don’t.” She turns her head. “This is a big deal, and we can’t gloss it over.”