Disclosure of the Heart (The Heart Series) (26 page)

After a minute of me quietly crying, Adam raised his head, confused by the sounds I had started to make. I let myself sob, gasping my breaths. “I missed you…I missed you so much. For years, I missed you.”

He crawled back up to my side at once. Placing a hand on my cheek, he said, “Nicki, I will never leave you again. Never. But you have to stay with me. Okay?”

I nodded and eventually smiled through my tears. “I’ll stay with you…always.”

Chapter Fifteen

A H
EADACHE
, T
HUMPING
A
WAY
at my temples, woke me up. I winced at the pain and discovered I was nauseated as well, and then I realized where I was. My head spun around to the clock radio on the hotel nightstand. Four thirty in the morning had never looked so good to me. I could still get out of there without anyone seeing me. Even the most dedicated person wanting coffee or a workout wouldn’t be up at four thirty.

I made sure not to wake Adam as I quickly slid out of bed and found my clothes. Buttoning my shirt, I studied my sweet man as he slept. His features were so chiseled, but he looked like a little boy with his face crammed against the pillow. I hated leaving him like this, but I knew if I woke him up, I’d get delayed, and time was something I didn’t have enough of.

As soon as I was dressed, I grabbed the hotel pen and paper and scribbled:

Adam,
I’m sorry I have to leave early.
I’ll talk to you after I get everything lined up on my end.
I love you,
Nicki

Speeding out of the room, I wondered if he would understand what I’d written. He was a reporter; I hoped he would see that I’d clearly meant, “Don’t call me. I’ll call you.” We may have danced across some ethical lines before, but after last night, we had obliterated the professional division between us. I had to clean up the mess—and now.

As I slinked down the empty hallway to my room, I talked myself out of re-imagining my worst nightmares. No one knew about my night with Adam. The worst they knew was that we’d gotten a little too close on the dance floor, that I’d then flirted with Dan Roark as well, and that I had been so drunk, Lydia Mixon had walked me to my room.

I simply needed to initiate the plan I’d already hatched. The only difference now was that I had to do it ASAP, and Juan Carlos wouldn’t be the first to know.

No one crossed Melba McCutchins. She was a formidable woman, and as the personal secretary to President James Logan since his early lawyering days, she was as close to him as family. Even the prime minister of Britain didn’t get on the president’s calendar without her approving it.

I’d known her for a long time, and yet I was in no better place with her than any other staffer. No matter how many times she called you “sugar” and “honey,” she was still a little scary. Rejection did that to you, since more often than not her answer was usually no, and if you objected, it was “Hell no.”

As soon as I could get to her that morning, I did. We had some meetings at the embassy before heading back home, and I found her working away in an empty junior ambassador’s office.

She peered at me over her bifocals. “Good morning. What can I do for you, hon?”

“Morning, Melba.” I put on my strongest smile and phrased my request as a demand rather than a question—because, really, there wasn’t a question to be had.
I must talk to Logan
. “I need to get on the president’s schedule for five minutes before we arrive home today.”

“Sorry. That’s impossible.” She went back to her laptop. “I’m sure you can catch him for a minute after the press conference.”

“I need more than a minute, and it must be private.”

Slowly raising her head from her computer, she took off her glasses. “Excuse me?”

“It’s important.”

“May I have an idea what this is about?”

I shook my head. “No. Trust me. I wouldn’t be making this request if I didn’t have to, and I know when something rises to this level of sensitivity. I need scheduled time alone with the president.”

“Why isn’t Matt coming to me about this?”

“I’m sure the president will bring Matt in shortly after we meet.”

She bit on the end of her glasses in thought. “Are you resigning to get married?”

“I’m sorry, Melba, but I’m just not telling you anything else, except that it’s more than a minor personnel issue. I know you’ll keep that confidential.”

She bit down on her frames a few more times before saying, “Because this is coming from you, I’ll say yes.”

“Thank you.” I exhaled. “I truly appreciate it.”

Returning her attention to her laptop, she said, “You’ll get five minutes on Air Force One before his nap.” She smiled. “The Cubs are on. Maybe he’ll stay up.”

When it came time for me to knock on the door of the president’s private quarters on Air Force One, I was rattled. I’d spent much of the day fending off jokes about my drinking the night before. The good news was that word had spread among the press that I’d partied with a few of them and was thus on their good side. The bad news was that rumors had already started that I must not be interested in Juan Carlos if I’d been hitting on two reporters. That really wasn’t bad news, though, because the truth would be far worse.

“Come in,” Logan boomed from the interior.

I walked inside and immediately smelled popcorn. Closing the door behind me, I saw Logan lounging on the sofa. The Cubs game was on the television, and he had a bowl of popcorn and a beer at his side. I laughed. “I thought you would be resting.”

“That’s what I’m supposed to be doing.” He gestured to the TV. “But the game is on. Sit and join me.”

“Thanks,” I said, taking a seat. My voice had wavered, and it never wavered around Logan. I’d known him for too long.

He frowned at my nervousness. “Now tell me what’s going on. Melba thinks you’re resigning because you’re getting married. You know you don’t have to do that. We’ll find you a job with shorter hours.”

“I’m probably resigning, but it’s not because I’m getting married. For one thing, I’m not marrying Juan Carlos.”

“Really? What’s going on? I’m sure it’s something we can manage without you quitting.”

“I…uh.”

“Just start at the beginning.”

Every time I’d role-played with myself how I would break the news, I had started with a simple declaration of the present facts, like,
“I’m in a romantic relationship with Adam Kincaid of the BBC. One or both of us will resign immediately. I apologize for the problems this is going to cause. I know how serious they are…blah, blah, blah.”

Yet it seemed all wrong now.

“Yes?” he asked impatiently.

As I sat, completely inarticulate and staring at Logan, I realized he would care less about
how
we dealt with the mess. That was easy in the end. He was the president, and he could do whatever he wanted and make whatever needed to happen, happen. Instead, Logan would want to know
why
the mess ever came to be in the first place.

Why?
I asked myself. It might’ve been fate, but that seemed kind of cheesy to tell the commander in chief, and I still wasn’t sold on the idea of fate anyway. Lisa would say there was an underlying cause and effect that had brought Adam and me back together. In my heart, I knew what it was. We’d gotten back together because the ties from our past were too strong to ignore.

Logan wanted the story from the beginning, but the beginning of us didn’t start in January when we’d both begun our jobs. The beginning started long ago.

I bit on my lip in determination. “You know that my sister died in a car accident, right?”

“Well, yes.” He muted the television entirely. I must’ve gotten his attention. “It’s a tragedy few would forget.”

“Right. It was awful.”

“I remember when your dad and I worked at the firm together and, in the usual water-cooler conversations, he would mention you. Often someone would ask if you were his only child, and he’d always say, ‘Actually, I have another daughter, Lauren, but she died a few years ago.’ He wasn’t trying to make the person feel bad. I think he just liked the opportunity to talk about her in the present tense.”

That made me smile and gave me a shot of courage. “So I’m going to tell you a story that starts the year she died.”

“Go on,” he said in his fatherly way. “I’m all ears.”

After a deep breath, my life spilled out of me. I tried to be as forthcoming as possible, and Logan prodded me along, asking questions all the way. His face was placid and his questions as objective as if I were relaying a policy issue to him. There were none of the curse words or bulging neck veins that came out when he was angry. His detached demeanor was actually helpful to me as I finally confessed my feelings for Adam to someone else.

When I finished, I said, “So that’s it. Full disclosure. You know everything. As I said, I did inform Matt that Adam and I had a relationship in high school, but I didn’t give any details.” I gulped because it was like I was letting down my boss and my dad at the same time. “I’m sorry for that.”

Logan was quiet for a moment, pressing his fingertips together in thought. It was a pose most commonly used when he chose policy positions or dealt with political problems. And now that was me. One big political liability that had to be addressed.

When he finally spoke, his tone was flat, and his expression continued to be void of emotion. “As your boss, I must say you made a mistake—a serious one. I’m disappointed in you for that. But as a friend, I can see why you made the decisions you did, though I respect and like Juan Carlos. It’s a shame you did this to him. Does your father know?”

“Almost nothing.”

He shook his head. “My kids wouldn’t have told me either.”

That small show of humanity made me grovel. “I’m so, so sorry, Mr. President. You know this isn’t like me. If Adam and I didn’t have this history, I would never do something like this.”

“You and Adam must have a powerful connection.”

“We do.”

He took a swig of beer and pursed his lips. “I’m going to think about this. Please go get Matt. We’ll come up with a plan.”

That was it? I was motionless, expecting something more, but he went back to watching the game, which signaled I was to immediately follow his orders. As I left the room, the whole experience reminded me that you didn’t get to be president of the United States being a hot head. They were always looking down the road at every implication—like master chess players, plotting ten moves ahead, while you were still debating your next one. When it came to his job, Logan was emotionless. That could work for me or against me.