The World: According to Rachael (21 page)

He sits up, leaning against the headboard, and runs his hand through his hair. “Wow.” He sighs as his eyes cut toward the window. “Rachael, that’s a lot to process. Give me a minute.”

Graham’s reaction makes me nervous. I’ve never been ashamed of my behavior, and I didn’t think of myself as being cheap … until now. His silence after my admission makes me feel as if I’ve done something dirty. I pull my knees to my chest and lie there, wondering if I’ve lost my chance at a real relationship with him because of the choices I’ve made in my past. When I began this story it really never occurred to me that the just physical relationships with men would be an issue.

I don’t defend my actions. I reason that guys across the world do exactly what I’ve done without apologizing. How many one-night stands happen every weekend in just D.C. alone? At least my encounters are planned, we’re both sexually protected, and expectations are discussed in advance.

Finally, he exhales. “Look, I’ve been sitting here judging you for your sexual behavior, when I’ve been no saint myself.” He kneels behind me and scoops me up in his arms, tucking us back under the covers. Once we’re settled, he kisses my temple. “I’m sorry for that. But let me be very clear.” His body tenses behind me, and his voice drops an octave. “I want more out of this relationship than just getting each other off. If this is where this conversation is leading, then let’s save each other the breath.”

I roll over and press myself into his chest. “I want that too, but please, you have to hear the whole story.”

“Fuck Rachael,” he says as he kisses the top of my head, sighing in relief. “Good. I’m glad that we cleared that up.” His heartbeat thuds against his chest, and I try to memorize the beat so I can replay it in my head if he decides he never wants to see me again after I make the next confession. “So tell me about Aiden.”

I don’t immediately begin to speak. Instead, I entwine my legs with his as if to anchor him to me. I want the reassurance that he can’t bolt out of my home without me letting him go. I place a kiss over his heart and begin to tell my story. “Aiden is my best friend Caroline’s husband’s best friend. Make sense?”

“Give me names.”

“Okay. Caroline is married to Colin,” I explain. “Colin and Aiden grew up, and went to A&M together. They’re more like brothers than friends. In fact, Aiden was Colin’s manager when he played football, as well as his attorney.”

“Got it,” Graham says, and strokes his index finger along my arm. The methodic action loosens my clenched chest.

“Aiden and I met through Caroline and Colin. We started dating in college. We had a great relationship. Both of us were career-driven and focused on our future goals. I was accepted to Wharton for my graduate-school work, and Aiden got into law school. Our intention was to date through graduate school, doing the whole long-distance thing, but Colin and Caroline broke up.”

I pause for a moment, trying to decide just how deeply that I want to delve into that time in our lives. I decide to share with Graham only the information pertinent to my relationship with Aiden. The other details of that time can be shared one day, but not now.

He reads me like an open book. “Go on, Rachael. It’s okay,” he encourages. “Tell me what I need to know.”

I swallow and continue. “You see, that was a crazy time for all of us. Colin was playing ball for the Cowboys. Caroline was going to Boston for medical school. Plus, she was battling some health issues. Even though they didn’t mean for us to, Aiden and I got caught in the middle. I defended Caroline. He took Colin’s side. The summer before I left for graduate school, Caroline was sick enough that she had to be hospitalized. Her family blamed Colin.” I pause getting momentarily lost in the memories. It was so awful. Colin was desperate for updates on Caroline’s condition. Her dad forbade me from sharing anything. I knew that he thought he had her best interests at heart, but Colin had thought he could help her.
And he could have.
“Aiden was so angry that they kept Colin away from Caroline. He was mad at me for not sharing with her how hard Colin was fighting to see her.”

Again, I pause, trying to shake the anxiety that still haunts me from that summer. “Anyway, to make a long story short, Aiden and I ended our relationship in fiery fashion in the hospital waiting room. He went to law school, and me to grad school.”

Here’s the part of the story that is going to make Graham feel uncomfortable. I’m about to reveal to this man who I really like, some hard truths about myself. “Graham, before I continue, I just want to say that I’m not proud of what I’ve done. Aiden is a very good man. I own my actions.”

He leans on his side, untangling our legs and kisses my cheek. “We all have secrets, Rachael. We’ve all done things we aren’t proud of. Tell me this. Did you learn from whatever you’re about to share?”

I think about it for a moment. Have I learned from my relationship with Aiden? I guess the jury is still out.

I answer his question as well as I can. “I hope so.”

Readjusting my body, I turn on my side and lay my head over his heart as I press my body against his. This is my new favorite position. The
thump, thump, thump
of his pulse is a calming drumbeat for me.

“About eight years later, Caroline and Colin reconnected, discovered that they should have never been apart, and have built a great life for themselves. Aiden and I then reentered each other’s lives by proxy. We were both single, and discovered that our chemistry for each other was intense, if not toxic, in reflection. Anyway, so we began a cross-country relationship. He was building his sports and business affairs management firm in L.A. while I was Chief of Staff for then Senator Jones. I was very careful to not be photographed with him, because I was worried about my image.”

Here goes nothing … “Aiden is black. He thought I didn’t want to be seen with a black man. That’s not true at all. It was his career choice that I didn’t think was good for me. You see, I already knew that Senator Jones was going to run for President. I knew that I was going to be his Chief of Staff if he won, and I was going to help run his campaign. I didn’t think I would be taken seriously if I was photographed hanging out with a Hollywood crowd.”

I remember that I haven’t shared exactly who Colin is, and the timeframe of this relationship. “Let me backtrack for a second. Do you know who Colin McKinney is?”

“Who doesn’t? I wanted to be him when I was in middle school and high school,” Graham replies, and I’m once again reminded of our age gap.

“Well, Colin McKinney is Caroline’s husband, and Aiden’s best friend, and he was Aiden’s biggest client at this time. Colin’s face was everywhere. He was the media golden boy during this point in the story.”

“Ahh … Makes sense,” Graham says as he kisses my forehead. His stomach muscles ripple under my touch. I place my hand on his lower abdomen longing to feel the sensation again.

After a few deep breaths on my part, I continue. “Aiden got very serious, very quickly. He wanted our story to work out like Caroline and Colin’s had. He asked me to move to L.A. I refused. My career was red-hot. I couldn’t be the Chief of Staff in California. His reasoning was sound; I’ll give him credit for that. Government jobs don’t pay anything like the private sector. He was making four times what I was. He made all the arguments … Move to L.A. and I wouldn’t have to work. Move to L.A. so we could start our life together. Move to L.A. and use my business degree to help him expand his firm.” I pause my story and push myself tighter against Graham, as if I’m trying to fuse our bodies together.

“I tried explaining to him that my career was not about money. I was honest, and said that I didn’t want children or to be married. I was already married to Senator Jones and his dream to be president. I don’t know if Aidan thought he could change me or convince me that I wanted the same things as him. I’m not sure. I felt we were two people speaking different languages.”

Graham’s body flinches when I mention marriage and children. I decide to not dwell on why, and plow on before I lose my nerve.

“He’d proposed before, but not in a serious way. It would come up in conversation, like ‘When we get married, you’re going to have to get better at sharing’—those kinds of things. My response was always something like, ‘That’s why I’m never getting married.’ I knew where his head was at.” I suck in a breath. “I found out that he was surprising me with a visit on Valentine’s Day. I knew that a formal marriage proposal was coming, so instead of meeting him and breaking up with him before he could propose, I blew him off. I accepted a date with another guy.”

I’ve never shared the details of this day with anyone. I’m embarrassed at my actions, and I cringe when I think about how I treated one of the best men that I’ve known.

“He called me and asked to see me. I made him seem like the bad guy for surprising me.” I pause and lean up against Graham’s chest, looking into his deep blue eyes so I can make him understand who the girl was in my story. “Graham, you have to understand,” I plead. “I hurt him. I purposely inflicted pain on him so he would get the point that I didn’t want to marry him, or move to L.A., or have his children. I was terrible. He left the stupid diamond engagement ring in a wilted tulip plant outside my front door.”

The tears start falling again, splashing against his chest. For years, I longed for a way to go back in time and handle that day differently. I would have still declined his proposal, but I would have given us the proper breakup that we deserved.

The room is silent, except for the sound of Graham breathing and my sniffles. I lie back on his chest, and he wraps his arm around my ribs. I long for Graham to say something—anything—to acknowledge my terrible behavior. His heartbeat remains unchanged, and there’s a stillness about him that completely confuses me. Finally, he says, “I don’t understand why you told me that story. Why did your actions years ago make you upset after what we just experienced downstairs?”

I had hoped that he could read between the lines, but I’m going to have to say it out loud. I take a deep breath, and spill my soul. “Because for the first time since Aiden and I ended our relationship which was a long, long time ago, I knocked the cobwebs off of my stone-cold heart and made love instead of having sex or fucking. And that scares me to death.” The words feel like they’re poisonous venom being extracted from my body. It was excruciating having them spill out of my mouth, but once they’re gone I instantly feel better.

Relieved.

Lighter.

Free.

I wait with bated breath for him to respond. Fortunately, I don’t have to wonder what his reaction will be for long. He positions me on top of his chest and uses his thumbs to wipe the remnants of my tears away. Then, he brings my mouth to his.

If his eyes are the windows to his soul then his lips are the key to his heart. He tenderly makes love to my mouth. Slowly and with great care, his tongue caresses my lips and teeth while his arms hold me to him. For the first time in my life, I let myself hope that this is my forever.

After my revelations, I didn’t want Graham to leave, and he didn’t want to go. He walked George and got him settled in for the night while I washed my face and brushed my teeth. My eyes were puffy from my crying, so I put Preparation H, otherwise known as hemorrhoid cream, on my bags. Graham found this hilarious as I explained that it’s one of the tricks of the campaign trail. Because of our late nights and early mornings, we all used it to look fresh for early morning interviews.

Graham asked if he could join me at my Monday morning boxing workout. I had already bared my soul to the man—why not just give every bit of myself away and let him enter my sanctuary? I texted Malik and told him that there would be a plus-one in the morning. I think he might have fainted because there was a long pause before he texted back
K
. He’s a man of few words.

“Hi Lou,” I sing as I slide in behind Graham in the back of the town car. If he’s shocked at the presence of my overnight guest, he hides it well. But then again, I guess that’s his job.

There isn’t a molecule of air between Graham and me as we make ourselves comfortable in the backseat. When Lou slides into the driver’s seat, I request that he turn on the Sons of Liberty radio program.

“Why are you listening to them?” Graham snaps.

“Why wouldn’t I listen to their show? They apparently have profound influence on an important voting demographic. It’s my job.”

The voices of the Sons of Liberty fill the car.

Graham shifts as if he’s sat on something hard. “These guys have a misogynistic attitude towards women. Don’t you have a staffer that can listen to this and just hit the high points for you in your next meeting?”

I turn towards him, crinkling my forehead. “You’re joking, right? Do you think my delicate personality can’t handle three frat boys who talk politics and about using women? Seriously, Graham …” I let the radio program fill the car.

I appreciate how gentlemanly he is, but come on. I’ve been exposed to far worse than the Sons of Liberty, and I’m still standing.

Solomon says, “In case you didn’t hear, we had an interesting weekend.”

McDougall chimes in. “It was nothing special … You know … Just had our first live television interview on a major Sunday morning political show. Another day at the beach for us …”

Revere says, “But we were second billing. Roan Perez, or as we call him on this show, Captain Caveman, revealed some points that might be in the President’s immigration reform bill.”

Graham breaks my concentrations. “Seriously, Rachael, can’t we just have a nice early-morning car ride to the gym?” He places his hand on my bare knee and draws circles with his pointer finger on my thigh. If he’s trying to distract me from work, well, it’s working.

I look at him, studying his gorgeous face. It’s not fair that anyone looks this handsome in the morning. “I like your morning stubble.”

“Do you?” He grins.

“It’s damn sexy.” I reach up and run my hand across the tiny hairs, loving the way that they tickle my fingertips. He quietly moans as I caress his face.