The Hopefuls(59)

“You never know,” I said. “I don’t want to be responsible for losing the campaign funds.”

We were all a little giddy, overtired and relieved that the night had gone well. “I think that was a pretty good turnout,” Matt said, holding up his beer to Jimmy.

“Good?” Jimmy said as they clinked glasses. “Kelly, you outdid yourself.”

Jimmy ordered a round of tequila shots, and when Ash and I protested, he said, “I’m the candidate, and if I buy the shots you have to take them.” But when he ordered another round, I held up my hand. “Sorry, I know you’re the candidate and all, but I have to sit this one out.”

“Me too,” Ash said. “Since I have a feeling our daughter isn’t going to humor us by sleeping in tomorrow.”

“Well, Kelly,” Jimmy said. “Are you ready to pick up the slack?”

They did the next two shots quickly, both sucking on limes at the end. I could almost feel the alcohol hit Matt as his body relaxed, and he turned to me with a shit-eating grin. “Careful,” I said. “Who do you think is going to carry you home?”

He nuzzled his face in my neck and said, “You, Buzzy. You’ll carry me home, of course.”

We couldn’t stop laughing as we ate, and it felt like we were our old selves—not just the four of us together, but me and Matt too. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him like this—the success of the fund-raiser combined with the tequila had made him happier than he’d been in months.

After we ate, Ash and I walked back to the apartment and Matt and Jimmy stayed for another drink. “Just one, I promise,” Jimmy said, holding up his hand like he was taking an oath.

“That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard,” I told him, and he grabbed me and pulled me into a hug. “Maybe I have to work on my poker face,” he said.

“Oh my God, Jimmy,” Ash said, pulling me away from him. “Please don’t strangle our host.”

—

I woke up a few hours later when they came in the front door and I held my breath, hoping they wouldn’t wake the baby. But no such luck. They were trying to whisper, I think, but they weren’t even coming close. I heard a crash from the kitchen and then the sound of Viv’s crying. (In the morning, I discovered the Brita pitcher lying on the floor with a bunch of paper towels around it, the cause of all that noise.)

When Matt came into our room, he closed the door behind him and stood there for a minute, letting his eyes adjust to the dark, swaying a little. He stripped down to his boxers, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor, and got into bed.

“Fun night?” I asked, reaching out to touch his head.

“Yes,” he said, his eyes already closed. “Jimmy Dillon is f*cking crazy.”

—

The next morning, Ash and I took Viv for a walk to get coffee. Jimmy and Matt were still asleep—Matt hadn’t even moved when I got out of bed—and we thought we’d be nice and not wake them up. It was chilly, but not freezing, and Ash bundled Viv up in a hat and layers of blankets, so all we could see was her little face peeking out. “I’m sort of jealous of her right now,” I said, as we started down the block. “She looks so warm and she gets to be pushed around.”

“I know,” Ash said. “She’s probably tired since Jimmy snored like an animal all night. Once I woke him up, and he told me that I was the one who was snoring.”

We walked the three blocks down to Starbucks and sat at a table by the window. “Do you miss it here?” I asked.

“I do,” she said. “But it’s weird being back. It feels like we never lived here or like it was a dream or something.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” I said.

We stopped at Bethesda Bagels on the way back, picking up bagels and cream cheese for ourselves, and bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches for the boys. “Lord knows, Jimmy will need all the help he can get,” Ash said. “I have no idea how he’s going to get on a plane today.”

“I bet they’re still sleeping,” I said, but when we walked in the door they were sitting on the couch drinking coffee, looking exhausted and rumpled. They stopped talking as we walked in and turned to look at us, making me feel like we’d interrupted them, like they were trying to hide something.

“We brought bagels,” I said, holding up the bag and giving Matt a curious look, trying to figure out what was going on. But he wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“Oh, thank God,” Jimmy said. “You two are a vision.”

I set up everything on the dining room table and made another pot of coffee. Ash popped Viv in her high chair with some Cheerios on the tray in front of her, and Viv happily picked them up, holding each one in the air to examine it before placing it in her mouth. “Good job, Vivie,” Ash said. “Good job eating your Cheerios!”

“We have to cheer for everything she does so that she doesn’t get low self-esteem,” Jimmy said, with a smirk. But then he clapped his hands together. “Look at Viv eat her Cheerios. Look at her go!”

“Where did you two end up last night?” I asked.

“Jimmy suggested Russia House,” Matt said, looking like just saying the name of the bar made him sick. Russia House was around the corner from us, a dark and musty place with chandeliers and red upholstery. It was a favorite of Russian and Eastern European expats, and people always claimed to see Alex Ovechkin (who played for the Caps) drinking vodka there.