Page 116 of Time After Time

“You looking forward to get back to work?” I ask Jonathan.

He shrugs. Nods. Shrugs. “Politics is hard work.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Right now, it’s harder than it’s ever been,” he confesses. “I’ve been thinking about retiring from Congress, finding another way of serving.”

“No!” I gasp. “We need politicians and leaders like you.”

He grins. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“What does Freja say?” I lean over to see if my sister is paying attention, but she’s deep in conversation with Uncle Bob across the table about some obscure lawsuit in France that she fears will change the face of EU economics.

Uncle Bob is provoking her by calling her just anotherhysterical feminist.

Awesome!

“She wants me to be happy,” Jonathan admits. “She thinks my being in Congress makes me happy…we’ll see. How about you? Mr. Neurosurgeon, huh?”

I laugh softly. “You approve?”

“I’m a lawyer. I’m paid to be suspicious of everyone.”

“Good to know.” I take a sip of the port served with dessert.

He’s quiet for a beat, then says, “You seem…brighter. Happier. It’s a good thing.”

Aunt Tanya had said I was glowing and my eyes were shining. She also mentioned that maybe LASIK would mean everyone could see my ‘happy eyes’ better.

The memory makes me push my glasses up my nose.

You know who’s never given a damn about my four eyes? Ransom. He just takes them off when he kisses me. That’s all.

“I don’t know if it’s going to last,” I confess.

Jonathan quirks an eyebrow. “He seems committed. You seem committed. So, what’s the rub?”

“I live in Boston. He’s in the Bay Area. How’s this going to work?”

He nods. “Long-distance sucks, not gonna lie about that. But it’s doable. Freja and I did it for two years before we got married.”

I lean in, whisper, “Tell me your secret.”

“Phone sex,” he deadpans.

I nearly choke on my tart. “Jonathan!”

He lounges back in his chair with a smirk. “I mean it. That and scheduling. You don’t ‘just talk when you can’—you make time. You treat each other like you’re in the same city, even when you’re not.”

“Sounds hard.”

“It is. But if you love each other, you show up. You put in the work. All relationships take effort—being long-distance just means you have to work a little harder. It’s not about sharing a bed every night. It’s about not walking away when it would be easier to.”

I nod slowly. “Okay.”

He pats my arm. “And trust him. If you don’t, it will tear you apart.”

“Trust him as in about other women?”