Disclosure of the Heart (The Heart Series) (12 page)

Three days later, we’d finished our final scheduled event for the summit. Logan scheduled some down time to rest before we moved on to Nigeria. Work demanded I prepare for that next leg of the trip, and the bed at my hotel called me to sleep, but how often was I ever in Berlin?

Deciding I’d work on the plane later that day, I planned to sneak away for a few hours. As I walked to the subway, it felt like playing hooky, though it was less fun doing it alone. But I couldn’t ask anyone from work to join me; I didn’t want it to get out I was slacking.

And then Adam popped into my mind. He’d said it would be fun to see a museum in Berlin, and I was heading to one. It would be just a short run through a gallery, not a date or anything. Juan Carlos wouldn’t care, and professionally, it was on the up and up. I told myself I could be mature. I could look but not touch—and no crying on Adam’s shoulder this time.

So I texted him.

Hi. It’s Nicki. Any interest in catching a museum with me?
I’ll be at the Museum Berggruen at 3. It’s across from the Charlottenberg Palace. I understand if you can’t.

It took a moment for him to respond, but when he did, I smiled.

See you at 3. Cheers.

When he met me at the museum, I was so engrossed with my phone, he surprised me as I heard him say, “Hello, Nicki.”

“What? Oh. Sorry. I was just sending something.” I saw he’d changed into jeans, but he still wore his starched white dress shirt from the press event that morning. The combination was sexy beyond belief. “Thanks for coming. I know it’s out of the way, but Sylvia told me it’s a great collection. Not many people come out here.” That was one of the reasons I felt safe meeting him there.

“Thanks for inviting me,” he said with a grin.

“Sure.” I nodded toward the door. “Let’s go in.”

The collection of Picasso, Klee, and Matisse was impressive, though I thought Sylvia would’ve enjoyed it more than us. We blew through it in half an hour. As we stood awkwardly on the museum steps, Adam said, “Do you want to go sit for a while? Maybe in the park?”

“Sure.” Sitting in a park was a platonic thing to do, though I touched my throat as if I needed another alibi. “Actually, I’m a little thirsty.”

“Let me get you something.”

He ran over to a street seller and bought a couple of bottles of Orangina, and we found a spot on a bench in front of the stately palace. I thanked him again for the drink, and he said, “It’s the least I can do. Thank
you
for inviting me today. It was very interesting. I haven’t seen that many Picassos except in the museum in Paris.”

“Same with me.”

“When were you in Paris last? With Logan?”

“No. New Year’s.” I took a sip and admitted, “With Juan Carlos.”

“New Year’s in Paris. Nice.” He stretched his legs out and gave me a skeptical look. “So tell me about Juan Carlos.”

I leaned back a bit in disbelief. “You really want to talk about him?”

“Sure. He’s important to you, right?”

“Of course.” But telling an old boyfriend about a new boyfriend—and vice-versa—was always something I avoided.

“Then get on with it.”

“Well…you probably know a lot. His family was part of the Mariel Boatlift from Cuba when he was a boy. They came here with nothing and became prosperous. He’s been in politics for forever. He—”

“No. Tell me about him.”

“Um, what do you want to know?”

“We’re friends. You can tell me. What do you like about
him?”

Wow
. Adam had just said we were friends, but that question seemed beyond ex-lovers-turned-friends. There was no way in hell I ever wanted to hear why he was drawn to Felicity. I was too jealous to be that good of a friend, but he obviously felt differently. He wasn’t jealous and wanted to be my buddy. I wasn’t sure I was ready for that.

“What do I like about
him?”
I asked.

“Yes.”

“Well…he’s very charismatic, very personable. People just want to be around him.”

“That’s often said.”

“It’s true, though. He’s not a very big guy, but he’s got a giant personality. He’s very endearing.”

“What else?”

“Well, we care about the same things. You know, have the same politics.”

“And?”

“And he’s a very passionate person. He couldn’t be as dedicated to his work without that drive. It’s one of the things we have most in common.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I work long hours. I miss a lot of personal stuff in life. Most guys don’t understand that—even some political types don’t get it.”

“You do need someone understanding of that.”

“I love his family, too.” I smiled, thinking of his wonderfully kind folks. “It’s big and friendly. Even though I’m not Cuban, they’ve been incredibly welcoming to me. I suppose knowing Spanish helped with that. His mom is great, and his father kind of dotes on me. He calls me
Blanquita
—like I’m Snow White because I’m so pale. It’s really sweet.”

“A big family is nice,” he said, looking away for a moment.

“It is.” I grimaced. “Sometimes I feel very alone. It feels good to be around them.”

“Do you want a big family?”

“Yeah. Actually, I do. Not too big, but I’d like to have three kids.” I took a steadying breath. “After Lauren died, I was by myself. I was the only child, and my sister—my friend—was gone, and I felt a lot of responsibility for my parents. I think with three kids, if something happens to one of them, you still have someone.”

He nodded and smiled. “I feel lucky to have David. He’s like a brother to me and Sylvia.”

“I don’t know, though.” I sighed. “I turn thirty-four this year, and I don’t see kids on the horizon anytime soon.” I eyed him. “What about you? Do you want to have kids?”

“Well, of course. I’d love a family.”

For a second I wondered what Adam’s idea of a family was, and my heart sank. His planned family no doubt included a gorgeous, proper British wife like Felicity and two towheaded children in little prep school uniforms. The very thought made me happy to have Juan Carlos.

Lost in my own ruminations, I rambled aloud, “Yeah, Juan Carlos is a really, really good guy, and he’s good to me. And he’s incredibly loyal. I mean…he works in politics…he’s got pretty interns flirting with him all the time, but I trust him completely.”

When Adam didn’t say anything, my whole body tensed as I realized I’d made a colossal gaffe. I looked up at him and saw his sad frown. “Oh, Adam. I wasn’t bringing that up…I didn’t mean anything by it.”

He shifted in his seat to face me, his expression pleading. “Nicki, you have to know how sorry I was…how sorry I am. I’ve carried guilt and regret with me for the last—”

“No. Don’t say that. I have my own guilt…my own regrets—so many.” I shook my head in a panic. “God. Please, let’s not talk about it. It was years ago. It’s not a big deal.”

“Nicki, I want to talk, even if we’re just going to be—”

“No. It’s not necessary. We don’t have to go there. I’m so sorry.” I crossed my arms. “Let’s let the past be the past and focus on the present.”

“Okay.” But he didn’t sound okay. He looked at his watch, and I was sure that I’d somehow hurt him when he said, “I’m sorry, Nicki, but I’ve got to run. I’ve got a plane to catch.”

“Oh. That’s right. You’re going to see your dad.”

“Just for a few days.”

“Will you tell your mom hello for me?” I smiled. “And your dad.”

“Certainly. I know they’ll be happy to hear from you. They watch you on the news.”

“That’s nice of them. Yet so…odd. Do you know what I mean?”

“I know exactly what you mean.”

I played with the cap on my bottle as I considered this understanding we seemed to share. We had both a history and a sense of what it all meant in the present; plus, we saw each other at work every day. There were multiple connections between us. We were tied to one another whether I wanted to be his friend or not.

I noticed he checked his watch, and I sighed. “I suppose I need to leave, too. We’re off to Nigeria tomorrow.”

“I’ll be back in DC by the time you arrive in the States on Sunday.”

“Maybe we can talk again then,” I ventured.

“I’d like that,” he said with a smile that somehow set me at ease. “I’d like that very much.”

Chapter Seven

W
HEN
I L
EFT
A
DAM
I
N
B
ERLIN
, I said we’d talk again in a few days, but by the evening of the following day, I was antsy. A few days seemed too long to wait. Maybe he was right. We could be friends, even if I was a little jealous of his girlfriend and wanted to jump his bones. I was an adult. I could get over those things, right?

I wondered if Felicity was with him in Cambridge. Were they close enough that she would visit his gravely ill father? I was dying to know. Yet whether it was for professional reasons or because of his girlfriend, I knew Adam wouldn’t call me. If I wanted to talk to him before bumping into each other in the White House briefing room with a hundred reporters listening, I would have to call him.

That night, I sat in my hotel room with nothing to do but more work or watching TV. I stared at the phone, thinking Nigeria was only an hour ahead of London time. Should I just touch base with him?

For my job, I was constantly thinking up narratives that would give a positive context to the president’s actions. Some people called it spin, but spin was usually something we did as damage control. A narrative was an offensive strategy where we shaped the story before it got out.

So what was my narrative for talking to Adam? I slowly nodded as my story started to take shape. An old friend was visiting his dying father—the thoughtful thing to do was check in and make sure things were okay. I wrinkled my nose. It barely passed the smell test, but it was good enough, and I reached for the phone.

“Hi, Adam,” I said after he answered. “I hope I’m not calling too late.”

“Not at all. It’s good to hear from you.”

“I’m sorry it’s so late. It was a long day, but I wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine. How are you?”

“Oh, you know.” I chuckled. “You’ve probably read what I was working on today.”

“Indeed, I have. Logan has received great press.”

“It’s been an amazing day. Nigeria is fascinating, and the visit has gone really smoothly so far. There’s a great American grad student helping us with logistics. She’s here doing research for her dissertation on the Nigerian government. Her name is Funmbi. She’s a big fan of yours, by the way. She asked me if you were traveling with us.”

“Is that why you’re calling me?” He laughed, but he really did sound perplexed.

“If I spent my time informing you about all your legions of female fans, I wouldn’t be able to get my work done.”

“Rubbish.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” He hurriedly added, “Don’t misunderstand me. I’m happy that you called.”

“I know what it’s like to be with someone who’s really sick. You may not know this, but I went and lived with my grandmother when she had cancer…before she died.” I started to speak in a rush. “So when you told me you were seeing your dad, I was worried about you.” I completely garbled the last part in fear that Felicity was sitting happily at his side.

“That’s nice of you. It has been a rough day.”

“I’m so sorry.” I hesitated for a second and asked, “Is Felicity there?”

“Er. No. Why do you ask?”

Thank God I got paid to think and talk on my feet. Otherwise I might have told him the truth—
“Because I’m insanely jealous of her.”
Instead, I lied. “I was just wondering. I thought she might be able to help.”

“No. She’s in London working. I’ll see her before I leave.”

I liked the first part; I didn’t like the latter. I tried to sound chipper. “So tell me what’s going on.”

“We visited my dad’s oncologist this morning.”

“How did that go?”

“Frankly, I should’ve known the news would be bad. Dad was trying so hard, though. Normally, he uses a walker, but he put up a front for me and used a walking stick.”

“Could he still get around that way?”

“He took my arm, which helped.”

“I bet he’s really happy to have you there.”

“I suppose.”

“What did the doctor say?”

“That the cancer had become more aggressive.” He sounded more bitter and resigned than sad.

“I’m so sorry. That must’ve put a terrible damper on the day.”

“It’s okay.” He sighed. “It’s an interesting dynamic in the house. Everyone speaks about the cancer like it’s a minor illness and the doctors are just trying to get the prescription right when, in fact, it’s fatal.”