Candidate: A Love Story (14 page)

“It was— it tasted— it was very good. A great sauce. Maybe you can give me the recipe. I used to enjoy . . . ”

His thumb moved over the palm of her hand and the hum of energy was too much. Kate pulled her hand away and finally made it to her briefcase.

“Careers are cold if that’s all you have, Kate. I’ve seen it first hand.”

She turned, folder in hand. Her pulse was pounding as she found herself straining to control her emotions. “That may be, Grady, but your career never wakes you up in the middle of the night to tell you it doesn’t love you anymore.”
Shit.
“Can we please do something productive here? I don’t want to drink beer and play let’s hold hands. I want to work, work may not be your favorite thing, but I like what I do, I understand it. Now—” She sat and handed him a printed paper. “Give it a read through. At the top are the highlights of the senator’s statement. Below that are possible follow-up questions you may receive over the next couple of weeks. After that this should die down, but whatever you do, if it’s brought up again, keep it casual and don’t get pissed.” She looked at him, hoping Grady couldn’t see the vulnerability, her need to hide behind the work. She hated that he was right about her, but he was.

“Sorry, yes, this looks good. General. I’m glad you didn’t mention names. No sense in dragging perfectly normal people into my shit storm. I’m dialed in. It’s good,” he said and took a deep breath that allowed Kate’s own breathing to return.

When there was nothing safe left to say, Kate handed Grady his jacket. Thanking her, he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. It was unexpected, and when Kate turned away, she ended up turning into him and his lips gently slid beyond her cheek to the corner of her mouth. Grady’s arms stilled her and he gently moved back to her cheek, kissed her gently there, and she felt the room spin. His closeness made her feel like she was slipping, easing into a warm bath. He lingered by her cheek and then his lips moved to her ear as he pulled away.

“Kate.” It was just her name, she’d heard it a million times before, but his voice, the dinner, the relaxed comfort of his body, it was all unnerving. She pulled back and Grady seemed a bit stunned himself.

“Grady. Christ, why do I keep saying your name? It’s you. Your strange name game is rubbing off on me.”

At that, Grady smiled and Kate opened her door.

“Thanks for dinner. It was really, well, it was nice. Thank you.”

Grady moved past her to leave. “You’re welcome, Ms Galloway. Always a pleasure meeting with you.” His thousand-watt smile was back and Kate couldn’t help herself, she laughed at his formality. “I will see you tomorrow at what should be an incredibly exciting carnival in honor of my now hip and cool father. Is this a casual, wear-shorts type of thing?”

“Yes, there will be rides, bands, the more casual you and the senator look, the better.”

“Got it. Maybe I’ll even bust out a baseball cap, eh. Really commoner myself up? Although we are in snooty Pasadena, so it will be a struggle to leave my Rolls Royce at home.”

Kate laughed again. “Do you own a baseball hat?”

“I own several actually, and for the record, I do not own a Rolls Royce. Will you be wearing, eh, casual wear, Kate? Shorts?”

Kate swallowed and gripped the doorknob. “I will.”

“And suddenly there’s a reason to show up. Goodnight, Kate.” Grady smiled and walked away.

“Goodnight,” she said to no one as she closed her door. She leaned with her back to the door and slid into a seated position on the floor. Looking out over her sea of boxes, Kate could still smell Grady’s sauce—he’d put the leftovers in the refrigerator—and something shifted. Suddenly her space felt infused with him, garlic, spices, great bread, and his laughter, their laughter. Kate was sure she wouldn’t be able to smell anything else for days, and she wasn’t even sure she wanted to. Grady, her evening with him, lingered, and even though he was no longer in front of her, the shift stayed.

It happened again.
Well, of course it did, you idiot, you went to her house for Christ sake!
This was nuts, but at the door, as he was leaving, he wanted to pull her into his body, taste her lips. Actually, from the moment he stepped into her disheveled space, he wanted to pull her into his arms, protect her. Which was ridiculous, because Kate wasn’t some shrinking flower, she was a force all her own, but in her space, faded jeans and laughing, he wanted her. It was primal, weird, caveman kind of crap, and Grady didn’t know where to put those feelings. He remembered being at Marcie Probst’s birthday party when he was in the sixth grade. That was the birthday party where, closed away in some closet, he figured out girls were very different than boys. That adolescent moment when things changed, and the boy in him, the future man, took center stage. It felt like that, standing with Kate, her face soft and relaxed. Her bare feet, rumpled hair, all of it called to him, just like Marcie’s glossy bubble gum-scented lips.

Christ, he wasn’t a child anymore. He was a—what was he now? He was in the shadows, pretending, and something about the light in her eyes made him want to pull back his own curtain, maybe even roll down the windows and kiss a girl.

As he slowed at the traffic light, and turned left up to his house, Grady knew that wasn’t possible. He was in too deep with his current life, he had responsibilities, and for better or for worse, he would honor those and keep his secrets safe. It was the only way. So no matter how much he wanted to climb into Kate Galloway’s eyes, run his fingers along the delicate line of her neck, he couldn’t. It would never work. Women always wanted more, and Kate was definitely a woman who wanted it all. She was relationship material and those never worked if they started with a lie.

Chapter Fifteen

M
ovie night was a tradition dating back to junior year of high school. Any time Kate and Reagan didn’t have dates, which was often, they would order pizza and rent movies based on the theme for the evening. When she returned from New York, they added a few other worthy friends— Beth, Reagan’s soon to be sister-in-law, and Poppy, who also went to school with Kate and Reagan. Poppy was now an attorney and stupid in love with Kate’s older brother, Neil, who of course, was oblivious. All four women took turns hosting, and tonight was Kate’s night.

“Kate? Everyone’s waiting for you. Did you get lost on your way to the dish towels?” Reagan was always funny, but Kate didn’t look up. “Kate,” she tried again. “Kate, damn it! Why the hell are you staring into the washing machine?”

“It’s interesting to note that when the washer hits the spin cycle my very distinct pieces of clothing—things that I recognize during most of the wash—all spin out of control and mash into one big blur.” She was still staring down into the glass top of her washing machine, the swirl, so Reagan walked up next to her and stared into the swirling clothes too.

“Uh huh,” Reagan said after a little more than a minute. The concern in Reagan’s voice was strong enough to penetrate Kate’s hypnotic gaze.

“Maybe I’m finally slipping over the edge, but suddenly this washer is a metaphor for my life.” Kate finally said.

“Okay. Metaphors are good. What are we looking at here, honey?”

“Hey, guys are you weaving those dish towels?” Beth’s voice came sailing around the corner.

Reagan looked up and grabbed the towels off the dryer. “Here they are,” Reagan shoved them in her direction. “Give us a minute. We’ll be right in.”

“Oh, yeah sure. Everything okay?” Beth asked.

“Yup, we’re great. Just checking on the laundry.”

Beth disappeared, the cycle stopped spinning, and Kate looked up at her best friend.

“Kate, are you okay?” The concern was growing in Reagan’s face, Kate could see it.

She had to rein it in. She wasn’t going crazy. Was she? “After I left Nick I really thought I’d sorted it all out, you know?”

“Honey, you did. You’ve been doing great.”

“Then why am I still living in boxes? Do you ever wonder that? I mean do any of you, when you come over for movie night, when it’s my night? Do you wonder why I’m still living in boxes almost two years later? Do you guys talk about it when you leave?”

“Kate, divorce is hard, and no, we don’t talk about it. It’s just the way it is. We don’t give a crap if you’re still living in boxes. We love you.”

“I know, and I didn’t care either, but then he came over and made dinner and asked about—”

“Wait, Nick came over?”

“No, Grady. Grady came over and for some reason the boxes seemed weird. He made dinner. I chopped. A real dinner, and we had conversation. It felt like, well it felt like someone opened a window or pulled up the blinds. All of a sudden the boxes didn’t fit. Does that make sense?”

“Oh sweetie, it does. It really does. Maybe you’re outgrowing the boxes. Maybe you’re ready to—”

“No, I’m not ready for anything.”

Reagan said nothing as they turned their backs and leaned on the washing machine. “Maybe a dining room table, but that’s it,” Kate said.

“Okay, well a table is a great start.”

“Reagan?”

“Yes?” She touched Kate’s arm.

“Stop talking to me like I’m standing on a god-damn ledge.”

They laughed.

“Just give it time. One box at a time. It’s great that you had dinner though, right?” Reagan asked.

“No, it’s not great. I was doing just fine with the boxes and my Toaster Strudel. I don’t want to know what dinner tastes like here in my little box cocoon.”

Reagan laughed and put her arm around Kate.

“Well, let’s go watch Channing Tatum take off his clothes in the comfort of the boxes.”

Kate finally looked at her.

“The pizza just arrived.” Reagan continued to lure.

Kate smiled and decided that she might not be skilled at picking great men, but she lucked out in the friend department. “Lead the way.”

Grady didn’t often have dinner at his family’s house, but his mother had called him herself to ask if he would join them and his sister Kara for “some family time before the big carnival tomorrow.” Grady was in the car when she called, and he nearly ran off the road. How many people were invited to family time before the big carnival? But it didn’t matter if he thought it was too much. His mother wanted him there, so he would be there.

The entire dining room was covered with mailers and large stacks of pre-printed labels when Grady arrived. Kara was sitting at the far end, by the window, already well into a glass of wine. He looked at her and she rolled her eyes.

“What the hell is this?” he asked, and Kara smiled a fake, large, what they both called her “campaign smile,” and said nothing.

Grady’s mother came through the double doors that connected the kitchen and the dining room. “Grady! You’re here. Perfect. I thought we would start with you on labels and Kara on the postage machine.”

Grady set the flowers that he’d brought for his mother down on top of a stack of labels.

“Oh careful, of that. Here let me put those in some water,” his mom said, as she took them and promptly flew back into the kitchen.

Grady looked at the table and then at Kara. “What the hell is this?”

“Not sure. I can’t tell if she’s drunk, but she wanted to have us over for an . . . ” Kara put her perfectly manicured fingers up in quotes, “old fashioned stuffing party.” She dropped her hands with a huff. “I think she’s finally lost it. You know, her elevator has never exactly been fast, as Nana used to say, but I’m pretty sure it no longer even goes to the top.” Grady smiled at the reference to their favorite grandmother, and looked at the contents of the table. He remembered, as a kid, stuffing envelopes for their father, but they weren’t kids anymore.

“Who the hell still stuffs envelopes?” Grady asked, picking up a stack of envelopes and flipping through them.

“Yeah, I don’t know, Grady, but dad went to pick up the Chinese food. Since when does he get his own food? I feel like we’ve been invited to a hopped-up rerun of
Leave it to Beaver
.” She got up to refill her glass.

“Does that make me Beaver?” Grady asked, and Kara laughed in the kitchen.

Shit.
He didn’t have time for this.