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)
I know his wealth is a huge part of who Maxim is. For him, it’s an expression of his independence from his father, of his own innovative spirit. I get all of that, but there will always be a part of me that remembers our week in Amsterdam. Eating crusty bread and drinking wine in bed. Counting tulips in the field. Our bodies seeking and finding each other in a dark alley with rain-soaked kisses. God, things were simple. We were simple and at the genesis of not only our relationship but our adulthood. Figuring out who we were on our own, in blissful anonymity. Now the whole world watches his every move and he’s running for president.
How is this our life?
“Anyway,” Polly says, “Maxim can catch his daddy’s jet, do the party and family commitment, and fly back tonight. We leave on the bus in the AM. Sound good?”
“Does he know yet?” I ask, returning my glance to him, now seated on a stool and taking questions from the crowd, which has tripled since word spread that Maxim Cade was in the park.
“Not yet,” Polly says, “but Maxim’s used to doing whatever Jin Lei says and going where he’s told. A man like him gets used to trusting his schedule to other people. I’ll tell him as soon as he’s done.”
I scan the perimeter of the crowd and the front of the stage, making sure the security is in place. Under his campaign T-shirt, Maxim wears a tightly fitted bullet-proof vest, courtesy of Grim. There’s security at our SoHo apartment around the clock, which Kimba says makes her feel like a Kardashian, and Rick sits outside my hotel room in every city on this pop-up tour. I’ve gotten used to it. I know it’s necessary, but I’ll never like it.
Once he’s done onstage, Maxim chats with people from the crowd, takes selfies, and generally wins over anyone within charming distance. The team huddles about the plan for the Philly leaders now that Maxim can’t meet them. Kimba has the great idea of having him record a video we’ll play at the beginning before we start addressing their concerns.
He’s no longer in front of the stage, so I dash to the bus, hoping to catch him before he goes. Not only about the video, but because I miss him so bad I ache. I just want to smell him, to touch him, to remind myself the man it seems the whole world wants more pieces of is still mine.
I hop on the Cade bus, which is long and tricked out with every amenity possible. Nothing but the best for Maxim. If that man is on your bus, it’ll be the best bus ride of your life.
Glenn is sitting in one of the booths, his laptop on the table.
“Hey, Glenn.” I hope my voice sounds normal now that I know he’s “into me,” according to Kimba. And, well, I guess according to Maxim, too. “You seen Maxim?”
“Uh, yeah.” He closes his laptop and looks up at me, his brown eyes intent. “He and I were going over some notes for Pittsburgh. I’ll keep working on the speech while he’s in Connecticut. He just left.”
“Oh.” I gulp down my disappointment. “I was gonna ask him to record a video for the leaders tonight.”
The thing about pretending you’re not dating on the campaign trail is it actually is hard to date on the trail. Some days Maxim and I barely see each other. Today is one of those days. My phone beeps with a text.
“Kimba says not to worry,” I say, reading it. “She found out Jin Lei’s riding with Maxim to the airport and getting him to record it now.”
I slide the phone into the back pocket of my jeans. Glenn stares at the orange bra strap hanging down my arm, and I hastily pull it up again.
“Okay. Well, I better—”
“It looks like we’ve got some free time this afternoon,” he interrupts.
“Um, not much actually. Kimba and I are taking the local leaders meeting tonight, so—”
“How about a late lunch?” he asks in a rush and reaches under the table, pulling out two of the boxed lunches organized by our local volunteers.
“Um, sure.” I sit at the table across from him and open the box. “Roast beef. Yum.”
“Don’t let the candidate see you eating that roast beef.” Glenn rolls his eyes. “He’ll want to know if it’s responsibly sourced or something.”
I pause with the sandwich halfway to my mouth. It occurs to me that not only have I been slow to see how Glenn feels about me, but maybe I’ve missed his true feelings about Maxim.
“Climate change is a huge part of Maxim’s platform,” I remind him, studying my cold cuts. “Of course he’s concerned about those things. Aren’t we all? You not a believer, Glenn?”