The Candidate's Affair (26 page)

“I will. And thank you, Lyla. For everything.”

“No problem. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I sipped on my decaf. As soon as Lyla left, I’d be alone with Corinne. I texted Pax. He was still three hours away, if they voted on time.

I crept up the stairs after Lyla said her good-byes.

“Hey, there.” I tipped the door lightly with my fingertips.

She sat with her arms folded on the bed.

“Can I get you anything?”

She shook her head.

“Want to unpack your suitcase? All these drawers are empty. They’re yours.” I started pulling on the first dresser.

“No,” she whispered.

I looked around the room, trying to think about what I could impress her with. “You know we have a movie room downstairs. Have you ever seen
Dirty Dancing
?”

She shook her head.

“Ok, come on. I’m going to introduce you to Kellermans.”

The next day, I visited Becky. The nurse showed me to her room. She was propped up, sipping water and watching a game show.

“Hey.” I smiled.

“Hi.” She reached for the remote and turned off the TV.

“Thought I would let you know all the paperwork is official.” I sat in the chair next to the bed. I wished I had brought something to cheer her.

She wiped at a tear. “That’s good. I’m glad it’s done.”

“Can I get you anything?” She looked tired. Every time I saw her, she was weaker. Her voice raspy. Her eyes dull.

“No. I’m comfortable. As comfortable as I can be.” She smirked. “How did Corinne do last night at the house?”

“I think for a first night it was fine. I let her watch
Dirty Dancing
. I hope that was ok.” I covered my mouth, realizing it might not have been the most appropriate movie.

“It’s fine. We were in France, remember? She’s seen so much more and it never fazed her. Kids there grow up with a more liberal approach to sex. Americans are so stuffy.”

I laughed. “Stuffy. Right.”

“She wouldn’t talk when she was here yesterday. Did she say much?”

I shook my head. “Not really. But I didn’t push it. I think she’ll talk when she gets to know us.”

“She’s a sweet girl. You’ll see.” Becky’s eyes misted. “Please don’t think she’s some bratty tween. She’s a good kid.”

I reached for her hand, feeling more bones than warm human flesh. “I know she is. You don’t have to worry about us liking her. We already love her, Becky. You don’t have to worry.” I squeezed lightly.

“It’s just…” She stared out the window.

“You don’t have to say anything. I know. I know.”

“Merci, mon ami,” she whispered.

“What’s that?”

“It means thank you, my friend.”

Her eyes began to close. She fought to open them again.

“Why don’t I sit here while you nap?” I suggested.

She nodded. “That would be good. I don’t like to be alone.” She turned on her side.

“Me either.” I watched her sleep, knowing she was facing a darkness I hadn’t met yet.

I visited every day. Sometimes I would sit longer than others, but as soon as it was time to pick up Corinne from school, I would hug Becky and promise to return the next day with updates.

It had been so long since I had had a friend. I looked forward to my time with her as if it were a normal way to get to know someone. Avery barely spoke to me, and my social life consisted of campaign dinners and more Chantal Porters than I wanted to acknowledge. Becky didn’t fall into the political category, and it was a refreshing addition to my life.

I knew she was dying. I knew it from our first meeting, but I foolishly let myself believe things could still turn around. Miracles happened every day. Why not for my friend?

But each time I left her I saw the goodbyes in her eyes, and knew there wouldn’t be many more.

The first few weeks after Becky died were the hardest. Corinne didn’t want to eat. She didn’t like any of the clothes I bought her. She refused to speak to Pax when he got home. It was rough. There were days I wanted to lock myself in a closet and bury myself behind a row of coats where no one could hear the sobs and the frustrated screams, but I made myself stand still. Forced myself to face her pain, to ease her through it.

I dedicated myself to making sure she had everything she needed. I drove her to school in the mornings and made her lunches. I sat with her at the kitchen table and did homework. Slowly, we melded into a family unit. Each finding a way to navigate in the newness of our bond.

I promised Paxton I would take care of her while he wrapped up the campaign. He and Todd lightened my engagement load so I could spend time with Corinne. He was so far ahead in the polls that neither one thought it would hurt. He was crafting his term for governor. The next four years had to be meticulously laid out. What he would accomplish as governor mattered. The political stakes had been raised to the highest level.

We both knew it, but neither was saying it. Paxton was interested in another office.

W
hile normal people were arguing over how to cook their turkey, we were mapping out the road to Columbia. November was a whirlwind. Pax won the election for governor. We made our adoption of Corinne public, and I told Pax I was pregnant.

“It’s early,” I cautioned him.

“I know. I know. But after all these months, I can’t believe it. So that means July?” I could see him doing the mental math.

I nodded. “Yes.”

“We’ll have plenty of time to get the mansion set up. You won’t have to do anything. You’ll probably want to plan the nursery, though. But we have people who can decorate it for you.”

“Pax, I’m not an invalid. I can still do what you need me to as first lady. I feel fine.”

“I’m not taking any chances.” He scooped me up and propped a pillow under my knee.

“Seriously? This is overboard. Why don’t you at least wait until I’m showing?” My stomach was as flat as it had always been. It was hard to believe there was a growing baby inside.

“I think we should cancel the Vail trip.”

“No, that’s our special holiday tradition. I’m excited to take Corinne. She needs to get out of here for a while, I think. Her first Christmas is going to be hard.”

He rubbed his palm along his jaw. “We can discuss it later.”

We had made new memories in Vail. The cabin insulated us from the grief and pain of the past. We clung to each other there, warding off the Christmas ghosts of Spencer and Sarah. And when I didn’t think I could hear another carol or one of Spence’s favorite movies on TV, Pax would hold me. Kissing me, loving me until I forgot. I had to go to Vail. I wasn’t ready to remember Christmas with Spence.

I put my feet on the floor, dismissing the pillow. “We aren’t canceling that trip.”

“My parents have invited us to go to with them to Hilton Head. It would be an easier trip, and there’s plenty of room for us to have privacy.” He winked. “You remember our last trip there.”

“No offense, but I don’t really want to spend the holidays with your family. Things with your father aren’t exactly normal now. I like how it’s just been us. I need that, Pax.”

He circled back to the couch. “I need it too.”

No one wanted to argue about families and divvying up holiday plans, but I especially didn’t want it to be a part of this discussion. I was still holding the positive pregnancy test in my hand. It blinked with a digital smiley face.

“So, you’re excited?” I looped my hands around his waist. It was the only way I could get him to stand still.

“Excited? This is what we talked about. This was the plan. Of course I’m excited.” His palm rested on my stomach.

It wasn’t the response I expected. I didn’t want my baby to be a plan. I wanted this to mean more than a stop on his political journey. The baby wasn’t a pawn. I closed my eyes.

“What’s wrong? Something wrong?” he asked.

“Just a little nausea,” I lied. “I think I’ll get some water and lie down for a bit.”

“Good idea. I’ve got some calls to return. I’m trying to narrow down who I want to take the open senate seat.”

“Let me know when it’s time to pick up Corinne?”

Pax stopped in the hallway. “Maybe I should pick her up from school today. Give you a chance to rest. You need to take it easy for the next eight months. I’ll get her today.”

“I think she’d like that.” I smiled at him.

He was still there. He just steered off course from time to time, I reminded myself. It was my job to get him back on course—that was marriage. Pax was a good man and he was going to be a good father.