Off the Record (Record #1)(119)

In the end, it didn’t matter. He was still here, exactly where he wanted to be.

“Congratulations!” Heather cried, rushing toward him with a giant smile plastered on her face. It was the first real smile he had seen from her in a while. She had been even more stressed than he was these last couple weeks.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him into a hug, the way she used to when they had been running in smaller races. She didn’t even touch him anymore; she was too worried about appearances.

Brady patted her on the back and Heather released him, looking a bit flustered.

“I knew you could do it,” she said, straightening diplomatically. Even here, right after they had won their greatest feat to date, she still couldn’t be herself. Sometimes he missed the old Heather.

“Thanks,” Brady said, for once not knowing what else to say.

“How does it feel?” she asked. Her delight was written all over her body. Most other people might not have noticed, since she wasn’t skipping around the room and bouncing up and down, but Brady noticed the little things—like the way she gripped her hands together, the set of her shoulders, and her easy breaths. They had been in this business together too long already.

“It feels damn good.”

“Don’t go saying that to the press,” Heather said cheekily.

“Would I ever?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Heather leaned in closer and checked to make sure no one was listening. Everyone was milling around them, but they all seemed too engrossed in their own excitement to pay him too much attention. It was a bit ironic.

“Fuck, Brady. We actually did it. We beat the odds. We beat Yates and Hardy. Despite you messing around with that reporter, and the press having a field day, we still made it through. We can win.” Her voice was tight with emotion. “We can win.”

And there it was. It always came back to Liz. All of the dates that Heather had put on his arm had shown up in the news in a negative light, but it didn’t matter. Because to Heather, he had slipped up, he had f**ked Liz, and he had carried on an illicit relationship behind Heather’s back. Even though he wasn’t dating someone else, or married, or had kids…it still always came back to that.

Brady wondered whether Heather even noticed how irritated that made him.

“Yes, I believe we can win,” he said curtly. “Excuse me, Heather, I need a minute alone before I go onstage.”

“Of course,” she said. “Congratulations again. Alex said for you to take two days off, and then we were going to sit down and plot strategy. I know that we already have the skeleton in place, but now that we have the nomination, he wants it all finalized.”

“Sounds perfect. Friday it is,” Brady said. Heather turned to leave, but Brady stopped her. “And hey, Heather…”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for all of your hard work.”

“Wouldn’t have done it for anyone else,” she said sincerely before departing.

Brady sighed and walked away from the crowd, hoping to find a moment of peace. He pulled out his phone, glad that he had a new number that wasn’t tapped…yet. He understood that people wanted to get dirt on him, but the never-ending cycle of new numbers was exhausting.

Not that he could ever let on that anything exhausted him. Some days everything did. He had followed in his father’s footsteps, and they were big shoes to fill. At least Brady believed that he could do it. He had been one of those kids who, when asked what he wanted to be when he grew up, had answered without pause, “The President of the United States.” That dream had never faded, and luck seemed to be on his side.

He was counting on that luck to get him through this election. He just hadn’t anticipated Liz. She was the one game piece that didn’t fall into place. Yet for some goddamn reason he couldn’t get her out of his head.

Brady entered the empty lounge and took a seat on a brown cushioned chair. He leaned forward with his arms resting on his legs. He had about fifteen minutes until he got up onstage before all of his supporters, staff, and press. He wanted those fifteen minutes to be peaceful, because he knew the rest of the night…the rest of the campaign would be without a moment of peace.

He typed in Liz’s number by heart; he’d had too many phone changes not to know it.

Hey, are you in the crowd?

Liz’s response was almost immediate. Yes, I’m here with my boss.

Brady frowned. Her boss. He was sure she didn’t mean the professor who had given her the research assistant position, which meant she was here…at his event…with that douche bag.

Brady clenched and unclenched his fists a few times, trying not to let his anger overpower him. He knew he wasn’t giving her what she wanted, but he couldn’t do anything about it right now.

And then the fact that she had run to someone else…just infuriated him. She said that it wasn’t like that, but still. Despite it all, he still wanted to be with her. He still really wanted to give her what she asked of him.

I have some time and wanted to see you.

Heather will flip her shit if she saw me. I don’t want to get you in any sort of trouble. This is a big day for you.

He wished he could tell her what he was really thinking—that he wished she were the woman he was walking out on that podium with, that he wanted her to stand by his side, that he loved her. But he couldn’t promise her things that he couldn’t give her. He couldn’t give her false hope for a life he couldn’t offer her right now. He was a man of the state, and he couldn’t just…fall in love. Not like this. Not on the campaign, when every little thing that came out could damage his career.