Page 16 of Accepted Precedent (Love & Politics #3)

Mickey

T he news about the Vasileiou-McKinnon wedding earlier today has dominated all the major outlets. Andrew and Evelyn made it into several photos, and my heart stops every time one makes its way into my social media feed or news alert.

For their sake, I’ve kept my distance, but I’ve also kept a close eye on both of them.

The election is later this year, and I trust Finn to ensure everything runs smoothly, but can’t help quietly staying up-to-date as Andrew’s campaign picks up speed.

All the while, the two people I’m obsessed with have managed to fool the country into believing they are in love.

They very well could be. Andrew and I talk often, but we never discuss his marriage or his wife.

His. Wife.

Why does that little four-letter word have me seething with jealousy?

It was one night—technically two. Evelyn burrowed her way into my soul and never left.

I haven’t been able to so much as look at another woman—or man—since her.

I love Andrew, and always will. But Evie?

I crave her. Finn and I agreed staying away was best for everyone, but at what cost? I’ve never felt so empty.

I torture myself by finishing my third whiskey of the night in one quick gulp, then take out my phone, scrolling my contacts until my finger is hovering over Angel .

I click the little envelope icon and type a message, then delete it.

I don’t deserve to know how she is. Still, I have to know.

I exit the text and return to my contacts, scrolling up to find Andrew Adams.

How is she?

Andrew

You should ask her yourself.

He’s right, but I can’t. I’m about to type a reply when another message comes in.

Actually, don’t. It’ll only make it harder.

If she’s not okay, I can fix it.

You can’t fix what I broke.

I made a promise to Evelyn—to both of them—and I intend to keep it. I’m about to grab my keys, but I’m too drunk to drive. I text my driver, Peter, and he meets me out front a few minutes later.

We’re only in the car for fifteen minutes, but the drive to Andrew’s new home in Baltimore has to be the longest I’ve ever experienced. I glance out the window while we’re on First Street, and as we pass the capitol building, I snap, “No. We need to go back home.”

“Are you sure, sir?”

“Yes.” I crack my neck with a twist. “Home.”

No matter how much I want them, there’s too much at stake. We’re less than a year out from the election, and until I can guarantee we secure Maryland for Andrew, I shouldn't be within a mile of them.

Andrew’s right—I can’t fix what’s broken—but he’s wrong that it’s his fault.

We could’ve found him a sweet, eager woman to marry him for a few years.

Instead, I’ve ruined Evelyn’s life, and I can’t be with either of the people I love.

Andrew has always been clear that he never wanted to get married or have kids, and now he’s trapped in a loveless marriage to his best friend.

The only winners here are the American people.

We make our way back home, and Finn is waiting in my kitchen when I arrive, adjusting his cufflinks as if he doesn’t spot me entering.

Fuckin’ showman.

“You won’t believe who I saw today,” he baits with a click of his tongue.

“Do you think that was smart?” I snap. “If Ileah didn’t marry Tim, do you really think she would marry you?”

“Yes.” His reply is quick and sure. Though he’s probably correct—Ileah was falling in love with him. It was always the plan.

Our father helped Ileah’s father secure his Supreme Court nomination, but over the years, his loyalty has waned.

If he was Finn’s father-in-law, we would have decades of sway.

Regardless of my brother’s love life, we need Timothy McKinnon to become Governor of Delaware, and a senator in the next decade.

Ileah is the logical choice to help Tim move quickly into the legislative branch.

Finn’s unable to hide his amusement as he adds, “But Ileah isn’t who I was referring to.”

“Spit it out.”

“She looked beautiful in powder blue—brought out her eyes.”

I close the distance and fist the front of his shirt. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.” He covers my hand with his but doesn’t tug it away.

His face falls as he admits, “We all know it’ll never work.

She’ll need to be married for at least two election cycles.

Andrew has the numbers this time, but it’s too unpredictable.

Do you really want to wait to be with them for seven, maybe thirteen years? Let them go.”

“Would you wait for Ileah?” I counter, already knowing the answer. We’re putting love before politics, and our father would be ashamed.

He replies emphatically, “I’d burn it all down for her happiness.”

“Then you know I’d do the same for Andrew and Evie.” I release him and take a step back. “We need to look at the bigger picture. How can we secure Florida, Texas, Delaware, and Maryland over the next decade, while keeping the people we love?”

“We may not get to, brother. But we can try. I’ll take care of Maryland—you’re too close to it.

If we back Alexander Blake in Texas, he’s a moderate who can be bought if we need him, while still keeping balance in the Senate.

In a decade, we could easily put him in the Oval.

His brother has his eyes on Florida, but he’s a fuckin’ cunt. ”

“Christopher? If we plant a few aides on his staff, we can keep him in line. He thinks with his cock, so a few pretty girls should do the trick. Under no circumstances is he to run for President.”

“Can you imagine?” he laughs. “The eejit would destroy the country. What about Delaware?”

“It isn’t an issue now that Tim’s married to Ileah, but in a few cycles it might be. In eight years, we’ll quietly fund his campaign in its entirety. Then, if Ileah wants to leave him, she can.”

“Do you think we can pull this off?”

A lazy smile tugs at my lips. “Remember what our father said: Love will always win over politics, if you let it. ” I mime a cross on my forehead, chest, and shoulders, then kiss my fingers and glance up to where he’s likely cursing at us.

“And I say we fuckin’ let it. We can carry out the legacy he left us without sacrificing the people we love. ”

“Grandad would be proud.”

“Grandad would also kill Tim.”

Finn lets out a full laugh. “Don’t give me ideas.” I clamp a hand on his shoulder and he blows out a long breath, then admits, “I’m not going to murder him, but don’t expect me to be happy that I have to wait years to be with mo rúnsearc .”

His secret love…

My brows knit together. “What did you just say?”

“It’s what Grandad?—”

“I know what he called Mam.” I squeeze his shoulder. “She really means that much to you?”

He nods. “I love her, Mick.”

“Then, on Grandad’s grave, you’ll have her.”