was a Montgomery, American royalty. “You told me.”
“So is yours.” He shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his face. “We should put your brother and my mother in a room and see who makes it out.”
Ryan refused to smile and Harrison crossed the room. He hesitated for a moment before picking up her hand. His fingers were warm and dry against her damp, cold flesh. “We can make this work, for the both of us.”
For a moment they both stared at their conjoined hands, and she was wondering what he remembered about her. About that hotel room. What details, if any, kept him up at night, burning and alone.
Though the idea that Harrison burned, alone or otherwise, seemed unlikely.
Harry burned. Harrison was far too cold for those memories.
She pulled her hand away.
“I can’t do it,” she said.
“I hope you can think of this as an opportunity, Ryan. To change your life. The life of your child. I have resources you can’t even imagine, and you can use them to secure a future for yourself,” he said, and with that he was gone, the door clicking shut behind them.
Ryan put the teacup down on the floor and barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up.
Harrison went out the back door of the apartment building, to a tiny alley where his car and driver had been waiting. Wallace, glancing around for any photographers, opened the back door of the car and Harrison slid in. Wallace followed.
“Let’s get out of here,” Wallace said to Dan the driver, and they turned off 48th onto Queens Boulevard and made their slow way out to LaGuardia, where the family jet was waiting for them.
“So?” Wallace asked, while Harrison dug his BlackBerry out of his coat pocket. The thing had been going nuts while he was in Ryan’s apartment. Twenty text messages. Ten voice mails. Three of those from hismother. One from the Times . Two from the Journal-Constitution .
We are in serious trouble .
“Get Bruce on the phone. We need to have a contract drawn up.”
“She agreed to your indentured servant idea?” Wallace asked.
“Marriage.”
“You say potato,” Wallace muttered, but he was getting his phone out, putting in the call to Bruce.
“She hasn’t agreed yet. But she will.”
“Why don’t you just follow in the incredibly long and noble line of politicians who pay their mistakes to go away?”
“Because in the twenty-first century that doesn’t work anymore. The world has changed, and …” He rubbed at his forehead, at the headache just under the bone that he couldn’t reach. “I don’t know why I have to keep saying this, but that is not me. That’s not the way I want to live my life. Paying off a woman who is pregnant with my baby to be quiet?”
I am not my father. I might have made the same mistake, but I will not do what my father did .
“So you’re going to pay her and marry her?”
“The campaign—”
“Listen to me, Harrison.” Wallace leaned forward, giving an impassioned plea. Harrison usually liked Wallace’s impassioned pleas, but this one was going to be in direct contrast to his own goals. “No matter how you spin this, it’s going to hurt.”
“Everyone loves a love story, don’t they?”
“You honestly believe you are going to be able to convince the world that you have fallen in love with a tattooed, foul-mouthed bartender from Philly? I mean, she’s beautiful. I’ll give you that, but come on. This isthe weirdest Hail Mary I’ve ever seen. This campaign is over.”
“What about the next one?” Harrison put voice to his greater fear, imagining the unimaginable. “And the one after that. We don’t get a hold of this story, it will ruin my career. I’ll always be the guy who knocked up a tattooed, foul-mouthed bartender from Philly, tried to pay her off, and failed.”
Wallace sat back, his silence eerily telling. “When you put it that way …”
“Right. Call Bruce.” It was bleak every way he looked at it, and the only option that left his future
“So is yours.” He shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his face. “We should put your brother and my mother in a room and see who makes it out.”
Ryan refused to smile and Harrison crossed the room. He hesitated for a moment before picking up her hand. His fingers were warm and dry against her damp, cold flesh. “We can make this work, for the both of us.”
For a moment they both stared at their conjoined hands, and she was wondering what he remembered about her. About that hotel room. What details, if any, kept him up at night, burning and alone.
Though the idea that Harrison burned, alone or otherwise, seemed unlikely.
Harry burned. Harrison was far too cold for those memories.
She pulled her hand away.
“I can’t do it,” she said.
“I hope you can think of this as an opportunity, Ryan. To change your life. The life of your child. I have resources you can’t even imagine, and you can use them to secure a future for yourself,” he said, and with that he was gone, the door clicking shut behind them.
Ryan put the teacup down on the floor and barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up.
Harrison went out the back door of the apartment building, to a tiny alley where his car and driver had been waiting. Wallace, glancing around for any photographers, opened the back door of the car and Harrison slid in. Wallace followed.
“Let’s get out of here,” Wallace said to Dan the driver, and they turned off 48th onto Queens Boulevard and made their slow way out to LaGuardia, where the family jet was waiting for them.
“So?” Wallace asked, while Harrison dug his BlackBerry out of his coat pocket. The thing had been going nuts while he was in Ryan’s apartment. Twenty text messages. Ten voice mails. Three of those from hismother. One from the Times . Two from the Journal-Constitution .
We are in serious trouble .
“Get Bruce on the phone. We need to have a contract drawn up.”
“She agreed to your indentured servant idea?” Wallace asked.
“Marriage.”
“You say potato,” Wallace muttered, but he was getting his phone out, putting in the call to Bruce.
“She hasn’t agreed yet. But she will.”
“Why don’t you just follow in the incredibly long and noble line of politicians who pay their mistakes to go away?”
“Because in the twenty-first century that doesn’t work anymore. The world has changed, and …” He rubbed at his forehead, at the headache just under the bone that he couldn’t reach. “I don’t know why I have to keep saying this, but that is not me. That’s not the way I want to live my life. Paying off a woman who is pregnant with my baby to be quiet?”
I am not my father. I might have made the same mistake, but I will not do what my father did .
“So you’re going to pay her and marry her?”
“The campaign—”
“Listen to me, Harrison.” Wallace leaned forward, giving an impassioned plea. Harrison usually liked Wallace’s impassioned pleas, but this one was going to be in direct contrast to his own goals. “No matter how you spin this, it’s going to hurt.”
“Everyone loves a love story, don’t they?”
“You honestly believe you are going to be able to convince the world that you have fallen in love with a tattooed, foul-mouthed bartender from Philly? I mean, she’s beautiful. I’ll give you that, but come on. This isthe weirdest Hail Mary I’ve ever seen. This campaign is over.”
“What about the next one?” Harrison put voice to his greater fear, imagining the unimaginable. “And the one after that. We don’t get a hold of this story, it will ruin my career. I’ll always be the guy who knocked up a tattooed, foul-mouthed bartender from Philly, tried to pay her off, and failed.”
Wallace sat back, his silence eerily telling. “When you put it that way …”
“Right. Call Bruce.” It was bleak every way he looked at it, and the only option that left his future
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