Page 135 of Incisive

And Jordan.

No matter how much it grates on me that we have to keep our love for and relationship with Jordan a secret.

At least I’ve made some personal progress, emotional growth. What Stella will think and say about my revelation no longer figures in my anxieties, much less in my plans. I’m certain she’s going to object in the most public and vocally obnoxious way possible no matter what. Probably not even because of her feelings on the matter, because let’s be honest that she wouldn’t give a single shit who I’m with if I wasn’t POTUS.

What she’ll seize upon is any opportunity to plant her face in front of cameras and do hits and longer interviews on every network and radio show and podcast that’ll book her. Cultivate outrage of various flavors depending on which network she’s appearing. Likely focusing on the secrecy aspect for the more liberal audiences, and claiming as my sibling that she’s horribly hurt by my actions and seeking as much sympathy as possible.

For the more conservative networks I’m certain she’ll focus on the fact that I’m gay and drum up outrage among her fellow RWNJs.

Doesn’t matter that it’s all hype, bullshit.

Doesn’t matter that her publicly stated views are antiquated and part of a vocal yet rapidly dwindling minority attempting to subvert politics because they’re pissed off that Evangelical white men are no longer centered in every conversation and position of power in this country.

The networks truly only care about clicks and eyeballs, regardless of their particular political leanings. And they’ll know that the only sibling of the president, especially a sibling with diametrically opposing views to the president, will provide ratings gold.

Stella—and Ellis—will get all the free press they can milk the situation for.

I wish I wasn’t that cynical, especially about my own sister.

Except I’m a realist. I’ve already touched that stove too many damned times.

There’s no way Stella will ever publicly support me on this.

When Friday rolls around, I’m not leaving the White House. While I’m going down to my office to work and take calls it’s a lighter than average schedule.

Jordan won’t be here for most of the day, which is unusual for him. He’s spending the time with Leo, at my insistence. Because once I propose next Saturday, Jordan and Leo’s days of doing things together in public comes to an end.

Jordan will return tonight in time to eat a late dinner with me but he’s spending the afternoon and most of the evening with Leo. Leo has this Saturday and Sunday off because Shae didn’t need him.

Rather, that’s the excuse I’m certain she gave Leo after Jordan whispered to Kev that the long-awaited proposal will happen next weekend. Obviously, if there’s an emergency I can summon Jordan back, but I wouldn’t do that unless it wasreallyan emergency. I need to not be…greedy.

Needy.

Although it’s also prettywanty, I suppose.

I tried to get him to spend the entire weekend with Leo but I have two informal meetings tomorrow and Jordan insisted he wanted to be around for those in case I need anything. He’ll meet up with Leo again tomorrow and spend tomorrow night and a chunk of Sunday with him.

Soothing myself with the reminder that this will be the last weekend I ever spend alone helps ease the nagging ache at the thought of having the bed to myself. Anxious energy builds within me as the afternoon wears on into evening and most of my staff goes home, including Casey-Marie.

The Secret Service detail shift changes, as does the household staff. A busy quietness settles in. The White House is never completely dark and silent even when I’m not in residence because there’s always someone in the West Wing, as well as the Watch Team in the SitRoom, or other officials elsewhere, in addition to the omnipresent household staff and the Secret Service.

With the election over and the holidays closing in, no transition to complete, or any immediate and pressing crises to deal with, that rarest of rare circumstances has come to pass: We can all breathe and catch our breaths.

It’s nearly nine that evening when the head of my detail alerts me Jordan’s returned to the White House and is heading directly to the residence. Immediately, I’m up and moving. The good thing about it being this late is, barring any emergencies warranting my attention, I’m done working for the day. I’ve had time to review the materials I wanted to go through tonight, finished all my phone calls, and once I’m upstairs I can totally focus on Jordan.

It’s all I can do not torunback to the residence. The whole way there I’m aware I’m jiggling my right hand, just enough to feel my day collar on my wrist.

I’m craving the feel of him buckling my leather collar around my bare neck.

Ineedto feel the carpet under my knees.

I need His hand in my hair, His fingers rubbing my scalp, and His calm, soothing voice whispering to me to let go and let Him take care of me for the rest of the night.

I needHim.

Our time alone together is limited before Leo becomes a permanent part of our world. At war within me is the craving to have Leo here all the time, knowing we both need him, but it’s battling a creeping, gnawing sensation that it also means I’ll have to share Jordan with him.

I’m not certain I’ve fully processed exactly what that signifies for us yet.