Sway (Landry Family #1) (31 page)

I want to interject that I want them to have people, my people. That one day, sooner rather than later if I can help it, I want our lives merged. I want to take care of them, have a little slice of this life for myself and give them the privileges of mine. But not yet. Not until this mess of a campaign is behind me. And then we’ll go forward.

I look at Huxley, who’s grinning at me.

As a family
.

I grin back.

“A couple of moms were volunteering in my class today,” Huxley announces. “They asked me about you.”

I take a soapy plate from him and rinse it under the water. He motions for me to put it on the towel, so I do.

“They did, huh?” I say. “What did you say?”

“I just told them that I did know you and you were a nice guy. But I needed to study and gossiping isn’t really a nice thing to do.”

“Since when do you not gossip?” Alison asks. “I remember you coming home this afternoon telling me all about how Patrick stole the pen out of Nina’s desk.”

“That’s not gossip, Mom,” he says, rolling his eyes. “That’s fact.”

“Either way,” I tell him, taking a glass, “I appreciate your loyalty and not saying anything.”

He shrugs, but the corner of his lip twitches. “Speak as you find. And, well, you’re like family now, kind of. And we protect each other. We don’t let each other get bullied and that’s what I felt like they were doing—getting information they could use against you.”

I glance over at Ali, my heart stilled in my chest that this little boy would think of me as family. She bites her lip, looking like she’s trying not to cry, so I try to change the topic for the sake of us all.

“So, tomorrow night I thought maybe you guys could come over to my house. I don’t cook, but you know . . .”

“You have people,” Hux laughs.

“I do. Or your mom can come over and cook something in my kitchen. Would you like that?”

“Yeah, but I have a program at school.”

Alison stands and makes her way to the coffee pot. “Tomorrow night he has a fall music program.” Her hand trembles a little as she pours herself a cup. “You could, you know, come if you want.”

I take another plate and rinse it, considering my options. There’s nothing more I’d rather do than see this kid that just came into my life sing or play the trombone or whatever it is he does. Because he deserves to have a man there watching him, encouraging him, showing him what it means to be a man. But it’s not that easy.

“I have meetings and interviews tomorrow and my schedule is blocked until at least seven. What time is it?”

“Six.”

My spirits sink. Even if I could’ve made it, I don’t know if it would be the right thing to be seen publicly at his school. I have no idea where to draw the line at this type of thing at this point in our relationship.

“Maybe another night,” Hux offers, watching my face.

A long silence stretches over the kitchen before Alison clears her throat. Huxley and I both look at her.

“You know those season tickets we got for the Hawks games?” she says to her son. Hux’s head bounces up and down. “Those were a gift,” Alison tells him, “from Barrett.”

Huxley swings to face me, his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. “Really? You gave those to us?”

I didn’t realize she hadn’t told him that little piece of the puzzle, and I’d have been fine if she hadn’t. But I have to admit, seeing this look on his face is priceless.

“I did. I hope you enjoy them.”

Before I know what’s happening, I’m enclosed in a set of 10-year-old arms. His hands are wet from the dishwater, but the feeling of his face pressed into my stomach is worth it.

Chuckling, I look at Alison. Her eyes are damp with unshed tears, her hand over her mouth.

“Thank you,” Hux says, pulling back. “It’s the best thing anyone has ever given me.”

“You are so welcome,” I choke out, his gratitude making my throat squeeze shut. “Maybe I could take you to a game or two. We can leave Mom at home.”

“Really?”

“If you’d like that.”

“Yeah!” he says, pulling the plug from the sink and then drying off his hands. “That would be awesome.”

He flashes me a huge smile before racing out the back door. Alison stands by my side and we watch him ride his bike around the back yard. I think how far he could ride at the Farm, how much fun he would have in all that space.

“He’s a great kid,” I comment as he ditches the bike for his mitt.

“Yeah, I’m partial to him.”

“Do you want more?”

“More of what?” she asks, looking up at me.

“Kids.”

She shrugs, her eyes just a touch wider than before. “I don’t know. Maybe. I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Why haven’t you? It’s a normal thing, right?”

“Yeah, if you’re in a relationship. I’ve been divorced for awhile now, and believe it or not, it’s harder than you think to find someone when you have a kid.”

“Good thing you found me then,” I wink.

I don’t push the kid issue because I don’t even know how I feel about it for sure. It’s not something I’ve thought a lot about specifically, but looking at her, I think I know the answer.

“I have a charity event in a couple of days. It’s something my parents put on every year and I can’t get out of it. The Garalent Gala,” I say. “It’s named after my mother’s family. Proceeds benefit Alzheimer’s.”

“Sounds fun,” she says, sipping her coffee.

My stomach churns a bit when I realize I always take Daphne to the Gala, and I’ve committed to doing that again this year.

Looking at her sweet face, I figure I’ll get out of it.

“Want to come with me?” I ask.

“I can’t,” she replies easily. “I have to work.”

“Alison,
please
.”

She places her mug on the table and her hands go to her hips. “Please what?”

I blow out a breath, sensing the argument that’s right there for the taking. I don’t want to fight with her, but I do want things to start trending to what they are going to be.

“Can we talk really plainly for a minute?” I ask.

“Sure. Shoot.”

“I think we both know where this is heading.”

“This as in . . .”

I shake my head. “This as in me and you. And Huxley too.” I lean against the sink, feeling my shirt get wet, but not caring. “Once this election is over, I really want us to take the next step.”

She forces a swallow and takes a seat at the table. “As in what?”

“As in us being together.” The words sound odd coming from my mouth, but I’ve never meant anything more. “I want to take care of you guys, try to be the man in both of your lives. You know, whatever that means.”

“We don’t need someone to take care of us, Barrett.”

I blow out a long breath. “Fine then. I need someone to take care of me, and I’d like you to be the one to do that.”

She watches me but doesn’t speak. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, so I keep talking to try to sway her to my side.

“This thing is over in less than a week. For a lot of reasons, including the one that you won’t need to work in catering anymore, another being I’d rather be comfortable knowing you’re home and safe for these last few days, I really wish you’d consider quitting Luxor.”

“No.”

I’m shocked by the quickness, the simplicity of her answer. “No? Just . . . no?”

“No. I’m not quitting my job for anyone, not even you.”

“Why? That’s just dumb.”

She laughs, but she doesn’t find it funny. I can see that in her eyes. “I gave everything up once for a man. I put my dreams, my goals on hold to get him ahead, and once he did . . . poof. He was gone. And I had a child and a little divorce money that felt like severance pay. Never again, Barrett. Never again.”

“So, what? If I’m elected, we’re moving to Atlanta and you’ll find a catering job there? That’s ridiculous.”

“First of all,” she says, standing again, her ferocity back, “you don’t know that you’ll be elected for sure. Second, if you are, we’ll have to figure it out then. Third, who said I’m moving with you? We haven’t, you know, talked about that.”

“I already know what I want. I want to take care of you, and I want you to be the girl that accompanies me to events and is home with dinner after work.”

She raises her brow.

“Or I’ll get us people,” I laugh, pulling her into me. “It doesn’t matter to me as long as I have you. And right now you working at Luxor makes me crazy and I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Why does Luxor bother you so much? You don’t have a problem with my other job or school, right?”

I glance at the ceiling as her fingertips trail down my neck and try to decide how to explain it to her. “Because I know how people treat the catering staff. I’ve seen it. The people at those events act like they’re above you somehow and when I think about that, about people talking down to you, I want to punch them in the face.”

“Noted.”

I sigh, resting my chin on her head. “But you’re still going to work, aren’t you?”

“Yup.”

“Noted,” I grumble.

Barrett

IT'S BEEN A DAY FROM
hell. Straight out of the fiery depths of Hades, this day has been nothing but one fucked up thing after another starting before I even got here.

Five thousand gallons per hour of sewage being spewed out of the ground in the middle of the city usually makes for a fun day. Add on top of that a new misconduct case being levied against the police department and a grant denied for a housing complex for the city, and the day goes to shit rather quickly and quite literally.

So, yeah, shitty all around.

My office door is shut, but the shuffle of staff members in the hallway outside sounds as loud as if they were in front of my desk. Everyone is on high alert, waiting for the latest poll numbers to drop. I'm trying to block it out, trying to work on the bill in front of me, but the interruption every six seconds by someone else is making it impossible. I can't even escape to the Farm. Too much work has had to be done today in the office, yet not a lot of it has actually been completed.

Another knock raps on the door and I toss my pen across the desk, watching it skid until it lands against a stack of files. "Yeah?" I ask, my voice more irritated than I care to let most people hear.

Nolan opens the door and lets it shut behind him with a slam. "Numbers are in."

By the look on his tightened face, they aren't good. I lean back in my chair and wait for the verdict.

"Hobbs gave a speech last night that was better than we predicted. He's gaining headway in the north more steadily than anticipated.”

“How do we counteract that?” I sigh.

"You know how.”

“Monroe.”

“Yes, Monroe.” He sits across from me, his face stiff. “Look, Barrett. I know you don’t want to make concessions to him. I get it. But if you want to win this thing, you’re going to have to bite the bullet and tell him what he wants to hear.”

Squeezing my temples, trying to massage away the issue, I groan. This is something I had hoped I could put off long enough that it wouldn’t be necessary. It’s becoming apparent that’s not happening.

“Is there any other way, Nolan? Anything?”

He shakes his head. “No, and you have Garalent coming up too. I’m not one hundred percent sure how Monroe’s going to feel about you taking Alison.”

“She’s my girl. I’m not sure what that has to do with anything.”

“Daphne has traditionally gone with you. For years now, it’s been the two of you. It’s kind of your show. People wait for those pictures, and Daphne gets a lot of press after it. You bowing out on her is going to diminish some of that.”

“Not my problem.”

He sits back in his chair, tapping his cheek with a pen. “So Alison is going with you?”

I don’t want to answer that question. I’m afraid it’ll open some door that I want permanently sealed. But the longer I look at Nolan, the more obvious it is he’s going to wait for an answer.

“No, actually,” I say. “She has to work.” I raise a brow. “I’ll be going
alone
.”

He catches his smile. “Well, in that case, I think we should consider—”

“We shouldn’t.”

“Barrett . . .”

“I am not taking Daphne Monroe to the Gala. Period.”

Nolan rolls his eyes and stands. His jaw is twitching, frustrated with my sudden forcefulness. “Fine. No Daphne. But if you want to win this election, you’re going to have to give in to her father.”

Another knock, interruption number sixteen million, sounds at the door. Before I can respond, it pushes open and my father walks in. Dressed in a suit that mirrors mine, he flashes a look to Nolan, then to me.

“Son.”

“Hey, Dad.”

“I just saw the reports Nolan sent over. The polls are bad, Barrett.”

“I’m still in the lead.”

“Barely.” He stands next to Nolan and they both look at me. “You have to be smart here. How many months do we have in this campaign? How many salaries are dependent on whether you get elected or not?”

“How about my legacy? How’s it going to look if that bill passes and it fucks the entire economy, like I think it will?”

“It won’t,” my father says, his voice stern.

Groaning, I stand too, so we are eye to eye.