“The doctor just wanted to confirm my results.” There. Not exactly a lie, just a misdirection.
“You sure that’s all?”
She controlled her expression and smiled up at him. “You know how I feel about sweets and pastry, Clay.”
That brought out a deep chuckle and he squeezed her hand. “Point taken.”
They walked a few blocks in companionable silence, enjoying the balmy spring night. Georgie recognized Glen leaning against the black SUV parked at the curb ahead of them.
Clay stopped and pulled her around to face him, his arms sliding around her waist. “Look at me, sweet pea.” She tilted her head up. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, yeah?”
The expression on his face tugged at her heart. He was so protective and he was a “fixer.” She didn’t want to worry him. Ever. But especially now. “Yeah, Clay. If something was wrong, I would.”
He leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. “Good. Let’s go home, sweet pea. I want to make love to my woman.”
* * *
Georgie’s cell phone slipped from her numb fingers and she stared toward the door. For a week she’d been pretending everything was fine—convinced it would be—and she’d finally relaxed. They were gearing up for the big presentation when Clay would officially announce he was running for president. It would be a huge multimedia deal with appearances by his cousin, country music star Deacon Tate, a video presentation and the announcement speech.
But the call she’d just received slammed her world to a screeching halt. Her doctor wanted to see her ASAP. He wanted to refer her to an oncologist. And she’d asked for one in Oklahoma.
She had to go home. The ranch. Her dad. Home. She needed her roots, needed the red dirt of western Oklahoma caking her boots, the smell of hay and horses.
She called her dad. He wanted to know if Clay was coming with her. Clay. Oh, God, she couldn’t tell him. She wouldn’t put him through this.
“No, Daddy. It’s just me comin’,” she whispered and ended the call.
She typed out her resignation letter, remembered she’d have to buy a plane ticket. She so rarely flew commercial. She stayed in her office, the door closed and locked, informing her staff and Ev that she was working on Clay’s speech and didn’t want to be disturbed. Going online, she made a reservation to fly home. She reread her resignation, tore it up and wrote the letter ten more times before she gave up and handwrote a simple message.
Clay, we have to stop things now. We both know deep down we won’t work. You deserve so much more than I can ever be. You deserve a beautiful woman by your side who will be the perfect first lady when you win. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I’ll only hurt you worse if I stay. Please don’t try to contact me.
She couldn’t write the last three words her heart screamed she add. If she admitted how much she loved him, he’d never let her go. She didn’t bother blotting the tears that smeared the ink. She sealed the letter in an envelope and wrote Clay’s name on its face.
Her letter to Boone was infinitely easier.
Dear Boone,
I’m sorry. I’m quitting. Someday I’ll explain. Forgive me for leaving you in the lurch.
Georgie
Georgie waited until Ev was on her break. She slipped into Clay’s office and left both envelopes in the center of his desk. Back in her office, she boxed up a few of the most personal mementos. Boone would pack and ship the rest to her later if she asked. And she would. Eventually. First, she had to get out of the building, to her apartment, pack and head to the airport before 10:00 p.m. She was acutely aware of the passage of time. She had to get gone ASAP. Ev left early on Thursdays. Clay and Boone were on the Hill. She had to go now to have any chance of escaping.
Georgie closed the door to her office, but her fingers froze on the aged brass knob. She leaned her forehead against the solid wood. This place had been a huge part of her life. Her hopes. Dreams. But not anymore. Sounds of the senator’s office hummed behind her. Phones rang. People chattered. Everything was so normal. Clay’s office would run just fine without her. Clay would be just fine without her. In fact, he’d be better off.
“What’s with the box, Georgie?”
She stiffened, heart pounding. Boone wasn’t supposed to be in the office. If he was here, Clay couldn’t be far behind. She had to get away. She’d fall apart if she saw Clay. Her goodbye letter, left in the center of his desk, would explain what she couldn’t speak out loud to the man she loved.
“Just taking some personal effects home, Boone.”
Warm fingers turned her around. “Sugar, you never could play poker with me. What’s goin’ on?”