More Than Words(59)

Rafael was quiet. In the silence, Nina realized she’d just told Rafael she wanted to kiss him. Before the conversation had a chance to veer off in that direction, she asked, “What do you think?”

She could picture him running his hand through his hair on the other end of the phone. “I don’t think you want my advice, Palabrecita,” he said.

A late-night pigeon cooed somewhere behind her. “I think I probably know what it would be,” she said, thinking once more about what it felt like to have Rafael’s arms around her on the bench, the electric feeling she got when she was near him. What did he say it was? Adrenaline and cortisol.

“I’m just going to say one thing,” he said, “which is that since I met you, I haven’t wanted to kiss anyone but you.”

Nina took a deep breath. She thought about kissing Rafael and goose bumps rose on her arms. She stopped herself from thinking about it.

“What did you tell Jane?” she asked.

Rafael sighed. “I told her we’re just friends, of course. That you were helping me out. That the media was reading into things that weren’t there.”

Nina thought about her night with Rafael. She thought about how their conversation felt easy and comfortable. How her body thrilled when she looked at him, when their hands touched, when his lips were on her temple. She thought about the photograph of the two of them. The way he looked at her. The media was right.

“Good answer,” she said.

“Nina—” he started.

Nina could tell she didn’t want to hear what was going to come after that, so she jumped in, cutting him off. “What did Jane say?” she asked.

Rafael shifted focus. “She said that if that’s the case, we could ignore it completely, but that if we do, it might distract from the campaign.”

“She’s not wrong,” Nina said. “We should probably just issue a statement. And then not say anything more.”

“Yeah,” Rafael said.

She looked up at the lights of the city that twinkled like stars, all those people Rafael wanted to lead—wanted to help—tucked into their apartments, their lamps glowing strong and steady. “If anything were to . . .” She swallowed, not sure if she should finish that sentence. But then she did. “If anything were to happen between us, it shouldn’t happen until after the election anyway,” she said, knowing that she was giving him the idea that something could happen. “Even if we see each other as friends now, the media will see me as a staffer.”

“I never saw you that way,” he said. “To me, you were always an equal.”

Nina sighed. The truth was more complicated for her. “It doesn’t change what we were, though. And that’s all they’ll hear.”

“You’re right,” he agreed. “So . . . friends for another month? And then we can see?”

“And then we can see,” she echoed.

She had to figure out what she wanted. She and Tim could probably get past this—they had enough history, enough of a foundation that it could be fixed. It would take work. It wouldn’t be easy. It was doable, though. But was that what she wanted her life to look like?

She had a month. Then she’d see.





55



The next morning, Nina called Caro first thing, approving the menu for the fund-raiser and explaining how the media had blown everything out of proportion. Caro had seemed to believe her, but Nina could sense that there was something else Tim’s mom wanted to say. Something she might have said if Nina weren’t dating her son.

Then Nina started reviewing how much money the Gregory restaurants spent on vegetables each day, which seemed astronomical. She wanted to know how many of those vegetables were used, and how many went to waste. And what the profit margin was on each of the dishes. She wished someone would locate those Manxome Consulting reports. As she went through the spreadsheets slowly and methodically, she stuck Post-it notes with questions everywhere. She even climbed into the lofted storage space in her apartment to pull down some of her business school textbooks, glad she’d decided not to send them out to the East Hampton house, where anything she and her father didn’t really need went to retire.

Then Jane called.

“Hi there,” Nina said, when she picked up the phone.

“I’m surprised you didn’t call me the moment you woke up,” was Jane’s reply.

Nina took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “Rafael said that you were going to issue a statement, and there wouldn’t be any more trouble,” Nina responded. “I figured you didn’t need me bothering you. It was just a business dinner. And the hug—we were happy.”

Jane was silent for a moment. “Am I going to look like an asshole tomorrow or next week or next month if I put out a statement that says that nothing is happening between the two of you? Is a photograph going to appear, or a voice mail or text exchange that someone hacked, making me look like an idiot?”

Nina thought back to the night before, to what she’d said, to what he’d said, to what their texts read. “We haven’t as much as kissed each other,” Nina answered. She was pivoting. “You know I’m with Tim.”

“So if I’m quoted as saying, ‘Rafael O’Connor-Ruiz and Nina Gregory have a purely professional relationship,’ would I be lying?” Jane pressed.