Sway (Landry Family #1)(72)
“But . . .”
“For the first time in my life, I know, without a doubt, without a single shred of hesitation, that this, you and me, is the right thing. And if that makes me lose the election, then it does. As long as you’re okay with me continuing it, they can say what they want.”
“I want you to finish it. I want you to win it on your terms. To prove to yourself you can do it your way.”
He kisses me again. “If it’s too much for you to deal with me during this, I understand.”
“I just don’t want to cause you problems.”
His laughter echoes off the room and he holds my hand up in the air and twirls me like we’re dancing. “Cause me problems? Shit, you save me so many ways you don’t even know.” His head cocks to the side “Let’s go out to dinner.”
“What? Where?”
“I want to show you off.”
“Barrett,” I say, panicking. “You don’t have to do that. It’s fine. I—”
“I want to show them how proud I am to be with you. Let them take our picture. Let them see how beautiful you are.”
“I don’t know . . .”
He tilts my chin up with the tip of his finger. “Do you want to be with me?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
“Then let’s be together. You and me. Fuck them.”
His smile is contagious and I give in. “Okay. You and me.”
Alison
BARRETT LACES HIS FINGERS THROUGH mine, giving them a gentle squeeze. I look up into his handsome face and return his megawatt smile.
“Are you okay?” he asks as we enter the restaurant.
I nod and try to concentrate on him and the absolute serenity in his gaze—not the hundreds of pairs of eyes gazing at us, not the hushed whispers swirling around the room.
“Me and you,” he winks. “Just me and you, baby.”
We are led to a table in the corner. Barrett pulls out my chair for me to sit before taking his across from me. Our drink orders are taken, menus placed in front of us.
The place is beautiful, filled to near capacity, and I can feel the weight of the stares on my back. Barrett is sitting in the corner so he can see the entire room; I’m thankful I can’t.
“Your hand is shaking,” he says, lifting it off the table and planting a sweet kiss to the center of my palm. “Will you relax? Please?”
“I’m trying,” I whisper. “I just know they’re all talking about us right now.”
“I’m sure they are. Everyone always talks about the most beautiful girl in the room.”
My cheeks heating, I pull my hand away. “I thought I was prepared for this. When I would go places with my ex-husband, things like this would happen.”
“No offense, but I don’t really want to think about you at dinner with him.”
The grimace on his face makes me giggle.
“I’m not joking,” he says.
“I know. But I like that it bothers you. Call me crazy.”
“You’re crazy to think it wouldn’t,” he smiles.
Drinks are placed in front of us and we order off the menu. The server is a man, but that doesn’t stop him from flirting with Barrett.
Once we’re alone again, Barrett looks at me with a seriousness in his eye. “Are you happy?” he asks me.
I run my finger along the edge of my glass. “Yes. Why would you ask me that?”
He pulls at the collar of his shirt. “Because it’s the most important thing to me.”
The earnestness of his tone hits me right in the middle of my heart. My cheeks split with a smile and I mean every inch of it. “I feel like, for the first time in my life, things might be going where I want them to go.”
His hand drops to his lap and he takes a rough swallow. “Where’s that?”
“To being happy.”
“Do I make you happy, Alison?”
“Yes, you do.”
“I know this whole thing is hard for you, me being a politician. And sometimes . . .” he looks at the ceiling before finding my eyes again. “Sometimes I feel like I maybe pushed you into this and that makes me—”
“You didn’t push me into anything,” I interject. “Yes, maybe you were a little aggressive in your methods. But every choice I’ve made, including being with you, is one I made. Okay?”
He nods and looks around the room. “You have no idea how proud I am to be sitting here with you.” He looks at me again and takes my hand, holding it on top of the table. “You’ve made my life better. I just hope that your life is better because of it too.”
I think about it for a long minute before responding. “My life is harder with you in it.”
He tightens his grip on my hand, his eyes flickering with worry.
“It is, Barrett. I worry so much that things will go wrong. I stay up at night wondering if this has a chance to work out in the end. But,” I say, just as his mouth opens to speak, “I always come to the same conclusion: it has to. Because I can’t imagine not sitting here with you tonight or not getting your texts first thing in the morning. Regardless of how hard it is, it’s worth it.”
He starts to speak when the server approaches the table. “I’m sorry, sir. There’s a man at the bar, a Miles Monroe, that has asked that you speak with him for a minute.”