29. Adrian

We've been in the conference room of his campaign office for the last hour going over last-minute prep before this evening's debate. Well, Jamie and his staff have been prepping. I've been sitting in the corner watching and trying to keep my anxious energy under control.

The last thing I want is for Jamie to worry—which I know he would. Even though he understands that my anxiety can't be fixed, it's in his nature to want to help me manage it. It's what he does—help people, put others' needs before his own. So if he knew how frayed my nerves are right now, he'd push everything to the side to make sure I'm okay, even though he's the one who needs support right now. Him needing support is the entire reason I'm here. My entire goal was to help him carry his stress, which I'm sure is a contributing factor to my own anxiety level. Like Ben Wyatt for Leslie in Parks and Rec, I Sham-Wowed Jamie's stress last night, but there's no one to wring me out, so I'm just holding onto it.

I think it will be worth it, though, because he actually seems okay right now, especially compared to how he was last night. His frantic energy is gone, replaced with a calm competence that would probably turn me on like crazy if I weren't trying so hard not to vibrate out of my skin. Which is probably for the best, anyway, seeing as his parents arrived ten minutes ago to wish him good luck. They're also staying to watch the live feed of the debate with me and the members of his staff not going to the news station with him—another reason I'm on edge. This will only be the second time I've met them, and this time I'm braving it alone, without Jamie as a buffer. I won't even have Mina because she's going with him.

"Alright, sir, we need to get going if we want enough time for you to get in the zone before you need to be on set," Mina says, looking at her watch.

Jamie nods and steps out from behind the practice podium. He looks at me, something he's been doing pretty frequently over the last hour, and I do my best to give him an encouraging smile. Then, his chief of staff pulls his attention from me.

"How are you feeling, sir?" Ben asks.

Jamie takes a deep breath, then lets it out. "I feel good. Ready."

Ben nods once. "Good. You sound ready. Whatever you did between last night and now to get you your confidence back, keep it up."

Jamie nods, then turns toward his parents.

"Kick his ass, sweetheart," Shelia says before pulling him into a hug.

Paul rests a hand on his shoulder while his mom still has her arms wrapped around his waist. "You've got this, kiddo."

"Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Dad." He pulls away, then looks around at the rest of his staff for a moment.

Daniel just gives him a thumbs up, while Riley wishes him good luck. Then Mina is at his side again.

"I just need a minute," he tells her, then he looks at me and nods his head toward the door leading to the bullpen.

With a nod, I walk out, him on my heels. I feel his hand on my back as he leads me to the office kitchen slash break room to get away from prying eyes.

"How are you doing?" I reach forward and take one of his hands, giving it a squeeze. "How's your reflux?"

"Good. The reflux has settled a bit since this morning," he says, and it sounds genuine.

"And do you really feel ready, or were you just saying that to Ben?"

"I'm ready. Really." He smiles a little and closes the small amount of distance between us to wrap his arms around my waist. "I just wanted a minute with you to recenter myself so I stay that way."

I pull him close, resting my chin on his shoulder. "You're going to do great."

He nods and leans back a fraction.

I meet him halfway for a brief kiss, then let him go, not wanting to wrinkle his suit too much.

He takes a deep breath, then lets it out in a rush. "Okay, I should probably go."

"Hold on." I quickly straighten his tie, even though I know it's probably just going to need to be done again before he goes on. "Okay, perfect."

"You're perfect," he says fondly, sneaking in a quick peck on the cheek before heading to back out.

Mina is already by the door leading out of the suite, so I offer him one last encouraging smile, then watch as he meets her and walks out. Once he's gone, I let out a controlled breath, easing up on some of my tight control on my emotions. I still can't fully let myself feel my anxiety, but everyone else back in the conference room won't be able to spot my tells half as well as Jamie, so I can let go a little. Slowly, I head back, and once I cross the doorway, Sheila is smiling and beckoning me over by patting the seat next to her.

"Come sit, sweetheart."

I nod and round the table to sit.

"It's good to see you again," she says.

"It's nice to see you again, too." I smile at both her and Paul.

"I'm glad you could make it down," Paul says. "Jamie said you wouldn't be able to make it because of work."

"I originally wasn't, but I switched some shifts around when Mina said he wasn't handling the stress well," I explain.

"Well, it seems like you being here did him a world of good," Sheila says before leaning over to rifle through the bag at her feet. She pulls out a skein of yarn, a hook, and what looks like the beginnings of a scarf.

"I hope so."

Now it's just a waiting game. I almost regret not bringing a book, but I knew I wouldn't be able to focus on it if I did. I check my phone for the time, and we've got almost an hour and a half until the debate is scheduled to start, which means I have an hour and a half to sit alone with my thoughts and anxiety.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Sheila leaning over to reach into her bag again, this time pulling out another skein of yarn and another hook. She sets them in my lap, and I can't help giving her a confused look.

"Having something to do with my hands helps me with the pre-debate waiting nerves. I think I made about forty scarves, hats, and mittens during Jamie's debate team years in high school," she says with a gentle smile.

Of course, his mother is as observant as he is. That's probably where he got it from.

"Do you know how to crochet?"

I shake my head. Sophie attempted to teach me once, but it wasn't my thing. I don't want to tell Sheila that, though—not when she's being so kind. So over the next hour and a half, I let her teach me how to crochet. She suggests I start by making a scarf, since it's just simple rows. And although it's still probably not a hobby I'd ever get into, and I'm not great at it, I have to admit that it does help steady my nerves. Now I get why Sophie always has yarn on her.

At 8:00 p.m., Daniel gets everyone's attention. "It's starting," he says, gesturing at the TV.

On the screen, the Raleigh news intro plays, and the room gets quiet as we strain to hear the announcer.

"Fucking technology," Ben says with a sigh. "Daniel, can you do something about the volume?"

"On it chief," he says, wheeling his chair over to the laptop plugged into the television to adjust the connection. After a few seconds, the television speakers come to life. "Ah ha! Sound settings were all messed up."

"… meet the Democrat, Congressman Jamie Montgomery, and the Republican, State Senator Geoffery Mitchell. This is the CBS 17 debate for Congress, district 13. Now your moderators Rebecca Jones and Maria Young."

The camera opens on two female newscasters, and after a quick welcome, they go into the rules of the debate, which I already know since Jamie's been talking about them for the last couple of weeks. I try to keep my focus on the lumpy beginnings of the crochet project in my lap so my anxiety stays under control. Also so I don't lose count of my stitches.

"Our first couple of questions are going to focus on giving each of you an opportunity to clearly define your positions on issues that have been focal points of this campaign and that each of you have claimed your position has been distorted," one of the moderators says. "Starting with Senator Mitchell, you've been portrayed in campaign ads as supporting a near total ban on abortion. Is that, in fact, your position?"

"Well, so much for them starting off with soft ball questions," Riley mutters under her breath.

The camera focuses on Mitchell, and I brace myself for whatever idiotic, scientifically-inaccurate answer that I know is about to come out of the man's mouth based on what I've read about him in the past ten months of keeping up with Jamie's campaign. Unsurprisingly, he gives a flowery non-answer about it being a state issue, and therefore not something he would be voting on as a member of congress. Then he follows it up with an attack on Jamie's "fixation" on the issue when he has no plan for the other issues that affect the district—which is a complete lie.

This is why I generally hate watching debates. It's just a bunch of politicians either using more words than necessary to cover up an opinion that may lose them support or outright attacking the other in hopes it will gain them support.

"So you don't want to clarify where you might have exemptions or exceptions for abortion?" the moderator asks again.

"As I've said, it's a state issue, so as a member of congress, I would not be voting to restrict anything," Mitchell repeats.

"Thank you, Senator Mitchell. Congressman Montgomery, your response," the moderator prompts.

"Well, Senator Mitchell has thrown out so many outlandish things in the last two minutes that I'm not sure how to address them all, but I'll do the best I can," Jamie says, earning a low whistle from his dad.

"Oh, he's coming out swinging tonight, isn't he?" Paul says with a laugh.

"That's my baby," Shelia says proudly.

And honestly, I feel a little proud of him, too. I'm also relieved. Logically, I knew he'd end up doing alright, even as stuck in his head as he was before. He's smart, capable, and good at thinking on his feet. But seeing the relaxed set of his shoulders as he tears Mitchell's answer apart makes some of the tension in my own shoulders dissipate.

Shelia must sense it in me, because she reaches over and squeezes my arm. "See, I told you our boy would be alright," she whispers.

I give her a small smile, not really sure what to say, especially in response to her falling Jamie "our" boy, as if I'm just as big a part of his life as his own parents.

After that, the debate continues with Jamie pretty much taking the lead—not that it's being scored or anything. But it's clear that between the two men, Jamie is the one who knows what he's talking about and has actual plans. If this was a race in a more liberal district, there'd honestly be no question about who would be winning this election come November. But unfortunately, that's not the case. And while Mitchell has basically been talking out of his ass all night, he has been right about one thing—a lot of Jamie's positions are not supported by a large percentage of the population of his district as it's been redrawn.

The show goes to a quick commercial. Then when they're back, it's time for closing statements.

"Senator Mitchell, we'll start with you," the moderator says.

The camera focuses on him, and he gives an almost smug smile.

"I don't know what he looks so cocky about. Jamie's been making him look like an idiot this entire debate," Sheila grumbles next to me as Mitchell begins to speak.

"At the start of this campaign, my opponent stated that his goal was to keep being a voice for the people in his district. He's spent the evening outlining the lofty ideas and plans he has to accomplish that goal, focusing specifically on populations he claims are often under-represented. But the fact of the matter is these plans don't take into account the opinions of the population at large. I want to be a voice for all, not just a few select groups arbitrarily deemed worthy of attention."

"Minority groups are not arbitrarily decided, you absolute moron," Sheila exclaims at the television.

"He can't hear you, dear," Paul says, giving her an affectionate pat on the shoulder. "Besides, I'm sure Jamie is going to say exactly that."

"…In his first term in office," Mitchell continues. "Mr. Montgomery has made it clear that his focus is more on Washington than on this district. He claims this is his home, yet he spends the majority of his time in DC. As your congressman, I would spend my time here, in this district. I've put down roots here. My opponent is putting roots down in DC. He prioritizes going out to bars and festivals with a partner who seems to have no interest in spending time in this state. This is my home—it's where my wife and beautiful children live, and if elected, I will ensure that this district remains a place I'm proud to raise my family in."

"Thank you. Congressman Montgomery, your closing statement," the moderator says.

The camera zooms in on Jamie's face, and I can tell by the set of his jaw that he's livid. This was one of my fears—one of the things that initially held me back from wanting to pursue a real relationship with him—that Mitchell's rhetoric about me would cost him the election. While I know that a debate hardly ever has a drastic effect on the outcome of an election, Jamie blowing up at his opponent definitely could. And with the look in Jamie's eye, it seems like that's exactly what he wants to do right now.

But then he takes a deep breath and relaxes his shoulders, and when he starts to speak, he sounds as collected and confident as he has the entire night. "It has always been one of my firmly held beliefs that honesty and loyalty to the people they are serving are two of the most valuable qualities a public servant can have. That is why I'm going to be honest and admit that I'm finding it hard to stand up here and not be angry."

"Fuck, he's going off script," Ben grumbles before shoving away from the conference table. "What the hell is he doing? We practiced this literally right before he left!"

"Hang on, Ben," Riley says, placing a hand on his arm to keep him in his seat. "He's been doing great all night, just listen and trust him."

He grits his teeth, but seems to settle as Jamie continues on the screen.

"I'm angry because, throughout this election cycle, my opponent has done nothing but question my loyalty to this district and this state. My opponent claims that he's the better choice to represent you because he's put down roots here, and I have not. But that isn't true. North Carolina is my home. This district is my home. I was born here, raised here. I went to school here. My family is here—my parents, my grandparents. I love this district, which is why I've dedicated my career to taking care of it—to fighting for it."

"See," Riley says, gesturing at the TV. "He's doing great."

I find myself smiling, because he really is. His original closing statement was good, too, but this is better. It's passionate, from the heart.

"As your congressman for the past two years, my priority has always been making sure your voices and concerns are heard. My loyalty has been, and always will be to this district and this amazing state," Jamie says with emphasis. "Where the man I love is from does not change that."

In an instant, it feels as if my chair has been pulled out from underneath me. Did he actually say what I think he just said?

On the screen, he continues to give his speech, theoretically working in the talking points and call to action from the speech he practiced earlier, but I don't really hear it.

I had to have misheard him.

He can't love me. We haven't known each other long enough for that. Or have we? It's been over nine months since that night at The Lavender Gimlet—almost three since we started dating for real. I don't know what the proper timeline for falling in love is. I've never fallen in love before. Honestly, I promised myself I never would. But then Jamie came crashing into my life with his Southern charm and—

Fuck. I think I love him. I've been avoiding putting a name to the feeling that settles in my chest whenever I see him, but that's what it is, isn't it? Love. And apparently, he feels it, too. He wouldn't have said so on local television if he didn't. He would have referred to me as his partner—or maybe not at all. If we were still fake dating, the comment from Mitchell directly calling me out wouldn't have set him off like this, and he would have just continued with his practiced closing statement.

Fuck. This wasn't supposed to happen. This can't happen—not when the state of the election is still so nebulous. I hope it doesn't happen—for a multitude of valid reasons not factoring in our relationship—but he could lose. Then what? He'll have no reason to stay in DC anymore. He'll just be another person that came into my life, made me feel like I actually belonged somewhere, only to disappear—except this time, he will be the one moving away instead of me.

My instinct to run tries to claw its way out, but I shove it back down. I can't just leave. I promised Jamie I'd see him through the election. If I left him right after he publicly admitted to loving me, it would probably all but cinch the election in Mitchell's favor. But also, I don't think I have the heart to leave. As much as I don't want to get hurt, I don't have the strength to walk away from him.

Which means I'm stuck—stuck here knowing that my heart is about to be broken, and I can't do anything except wait for it to happen.