“He’s around a lot now,” Christian explained, “helping me with homework…” He nodded to himself. “But now he seems sad,” he mused. “I’m not sure why I care.”

Hearing that Tyler wasn’t happy hurt. I couldn’t lie to myself. I wanted him to miss me, and I wanted him to have given me up for a good reason. Christian was that reason.

Christian peered over at me. “When I go to the AP class, can you date my dad?”

I broke out in a small smile. “But then I wouldn’t be your teacher.”

“But you’d be around my house,” he retorted, perking up.

I relaxed, seeing that he was no longer angry. I didn’t know if he’d told anyone, but I wouldn’t put the burden of a secret on him, either. If he talked, he talked, and I’d have to deal with the consequences.

Unfortunately, though, he thought his father had moved on because of my relationship with his son, when, in truth, it went far deeper than that.

“I’m always here for you,” I assured him. “You always come first. Don’t ever forget that.”

TWENTY-FIVE

TYLER

I planted my hand on the ornate marble railing and took a sip of my whiskey, gazing out over the bustle of cars, carriages, and lights in the cool evening of the Quarter. Conversation and laughter drifted outside from the Halloween masque through the doors behind me, but I narrowed my eyes, watching the gutter punks in the doorway down on the other side of the street beg for beer money instead.

Their ratty clothes, stringy hair, and “fuck it” attitude were something I had never understood, mostly because I’d barely noticed them before.

I guess, on the rare occasion I’d actually looked, I’d presumed they liked their lot in life. They were smiling as they chatted, after all.

But now I found myself wondering – as I felt my clean, crisp tux against my skin and the fragrant smell of the rich food from the ball going on behind me – where would they sleep tonight?

How long since that dog they were petting had eaten?

Where the hell were their parents?

I’d slowed my life considerably, trying to do a few things well instead of fifteen terribly, like my father wanted, but the more I’d taken the time to notice the little things around me, the emptier I felt.

Maybe they wanted more out of life and were just trying to get through the day. Or maybe they didn’t, because they didn’t know everything the world had to offer.

But I did know they’d be grateful for whatever money they got right now. They’d be grateful for food, drink, and a cigarette – or anything that made them feel good.

I wanted a lot of things, but – I realized, looking down at them – almost nothing I wanted would I treasure. Barely any of it would make me pause to feel grateful.

I’d missed what was truly important. I’d chosen wrong.

My phone vibrated from inside my breast pocket, but I just tilted the glass back up to my lips, ignoring it.

Jay was inside, constantly texting that I needed to get my ass in there and start chatting with people, but the luster was gone. It had slowly dwindled away the longer I went without her.

“Soooo,” I heard a woman’s voice say from behind me, and I looked to see my father and his wife smiling at me.

“When will you officially announce your candidacy?” she asked.

Rachel Marek was my father’s second wife, and while I liked her, I barely knew her. My father didn’t remarry for another ten years after my mother’s death when I was fifteen. I’d long since moved out and started my own life by then.

I looked over, seeing Jay march through the French doors, clearly on a mission to find me and bring me inside himself.

I gave Rachel a halfhearted smile. “Somewhat redundant, I think. Everyone is aware of my intentions anyway.”

But then I caught my father’s “try harder” look, and I softened my response for her.

“Within the week,” I assured her.

Jay stepped up next to me, and I nodded, telling him silently I would get my ass back into the party.

“Will you relocate to Washington, D.C.?” she asked, clutching my father’s arm.

“Let me win first,” I countered, trying to keep my expectations reasonable.

“Sorry.” She laughed, glancing at my father. “We won’t jinx you. We’re just very excited for the next year. I love campaigns.”

“We’re all excited,” Jay jumped in. “I’ve stocked up on PowerBars and Wheaties.”

And I was still trying to figure out what the hell I was doing.

How the hell could my desires change so quickly? I’d planned for this. Dreamed of this.

And now everything in my life except Christian felt fucking worthless. Worthless and pointless.

“Give us a minute,” my father said, and I looked up to see him hand off his wife to my brother.

They headed back inside, and my father tilted his head, gesturing for me to walk with him.

“Senators, in a way,” he started, leading me back inside the dim, candlelit ballroom, “have more power than a president,” he told me. “While presidents come and go, with term limits, a senator can be a senator for life.”

I already knew that, and my father, having a doctorate in political science was also well aware.

“I’ve known Senator Baynor for more than thirty years,” he explained. “He tried to hire me to work on his staff, but I turned him down.”

“Why?”

We circled the perimeter of the ball, the other guests congregating around tables and on the dance floor.

“I wouldn’t have found it rewarding,” he admitted. “It’s too glamorous a life for me.”

I laughed under my breath, liking how candid he could often be. Most people didn’t associate politics with glamour, but it most certainly was glamorous. Power, wealth, and connections with people who could make or break you.

Senator Baynor was from Texas, and while he and my father were good friends, I was glad he hadn’t uprooted Jay’s and my life here in New Orleans to pursue a political career.

My father didn’t climb mountains for the sake of climbing mountains. His goals were clear and his reasons made sense. He’d made a good choice.

He stopped and turned to face me, pinning me with a hard stare. “Mason Blackwell has a lot of support, Tyler. He’s very popular,” he pointed out. “However, he doesn’t have the endorsement of a senior senator like Baynor.”

I nodded, but then my eyes flashed to the right, and I stopped listening.

I narrowed my eyes.

Easton.

She stood alone across the room, wearing a beautiful, fitted black gown with gold trim that showed off her arms and back. She was staring at a painting and looking so much like she had the night we’d first met.

My entire body warmed, and I felt her pulling at me like she had a rope tied around my heart.

“Is that what you’d like?” My father spoke up. “An endorsement?”

What?

I blinked, coming back to the conversation and looking over at him.

“You know better,” I retorted.

I hadn’t asked my father for anything, and I wouldn’t.

He hooded his eyes, looking weary. “I thought so.” He sighed. “You don’t take anything you don’t feel you’ve earned.”

I pinned him with a stare. “You taught me that.”

Taking a sip of my drink, I glanced over at Easton, noting that she was slowly making her way down the wall, taking in the paintings.

“I’m not your teacher anymore.” My father spoke in a low voice. “I’m your father. A father who happens to believe you’re one of the good ones.”

At that I shot my eyes back to him.

He’d always been hard on me, which gave his rare compliments more of an impact.

“I’m proud of you,” he told me, “and I would be proud to see you win this. I can get his endorsement if you want.”

I inhaled a deep breath and shook my head gently. “You’ve never made anything easy on me. Don’t start now.”

And I set down my glass and walked away, leaving him to get back to his wife.