At first, I’d lied to Evan and said I was off campaigning until Election Day. I just wasn’t emotionally strong enough to unburden myself of what had happened. But then, a few days later, he caught me making one of my fake “I’m sick and that’s why I’m off the campaign trail” videos. After that, I came clean to him about everything in a blubbering mess of snot and tears. To his credit, Evan had consoled me, but he’d given me space. He didn’t question my actions.

It wasn’t just Evan who was giving me space. I hadn’t heard anything from Barrett since leaving him that morning in Napa. I didn’t know what to make of it. Was he respecting my wishes to leave me alone? Or had he realized he had just been caught up in all the make-believe and really didn’t love me like he thought he did? In the end, I was too chicken-shit to call or text him to see.

Although I hated myself for it, sometimes I couldn’t stop myself from watching some of the campaign footage, specifically the clips that featured Barrett. He had been keeping a manic pace on the road since we’d parted. His appearance seemed somewhat haggard—he bore dark circles under his eyes, and his usually jovial expression had become somber. The part of me that wanted to give in to my feelings argued that the change in Barrett was because he really was lovesick, but the other part countered by saying his sullenness came from being rejected.

After too many nights holed up on Evan’s couch eating Chinese takeout and watching The West Wing on Netflix, I’d decided I had to get out. More importantly, I had to get my mind off of Barrett. So, I’d taken Evan up on his offer to work at Divas. Initially, I thought it would be good for me to be somewhere I was guaranteed not to see Barrett. Unfortunately, the moment I entered my dressing room, memories of the night he’d come to the club came flooding back. I could almost feel Barrett’s fingers feathering across my skin as he undid my taping. After all, things had really started to change between us that night.

With pain zigzagging through my chest, I flopped down into the makeup chair. As I took off the baseball cap, Evan breezed through the door. Wrinkling his nose, he remarked, “That’s a hideous wig.”

I laughed as I slid it off my head. “It’s just for a disguise. I wouldn’t dare disgrace your stage with this second-rate hairpiece.”

“You sure as hell better not.”

When I took my sunglasses off, Evan let out a low whistle. “I’m going to owe Bryan a raise considering all the work he’s going to have to put into your makeup tonight.”

“My life is in the toilet. Am I not allowed a good cry or two?”

“Or a hundred,” Evan countered.

“Bite me.”

He hopped up on the counter in front of me. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“Because I’m depressed.”

He shook his head. “I mean, why aren’t you riding off into the sunset with Barrett? The man told you he loved you, Ads.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Considering how hard it is for most men—gay or straight—to say those three little words, I’d say it was pretty simple.”

“But his past—”

“Screw his past. It isn’t fair to fault him for things he did before you.” Tilting his head toward me, he countered, “How can you possibly be a missionary’s daughter and not believe in the power of redemption?”

“Trust me, I want to believe in it. I want to believe Barrett—that he’s truly changed, that he will never cheat on me.”

“Then believe it.”

Swallowing hard, I shook my head. “I can’t, no matter how hard I try, and after Walt, I can’t be so naïve.”

“Just like it’s not fair to punish Barrett for his past, you can’t punish him for yours either. He isn’t Walt.”

I glanced down at my hands, and the glittering engagement ring stared up at me. I hadn’t been able to take it off. The rational part of me argued that I couldn’t take it off until after the election because being seen without it might raise speculation; the lovesick part knew that once I took it off, I would be symbolically severing my ties to Barrett.

“Maybe he isn’t, but I know I can’t survive having my heart broken again. Whatever I felt for Walt was just a tiny flake in the avalanche of what I feel for Barrett.”

“You’re making a big mistake, Ads.”

I swiped the tears from my eyes. “Maybe I am, but in the end, I have to do what makes me feel safe. I have to love me more.”

“Even if that love and safety comes at the price of your happiness?”

“Yes,” I murmured.

Evan huffed exasperatedly before he hopped down off the counter. “Then you’re a damned fool.”

Maybe I was being a fool, but I was just too stubborn to do anything about it.

BARRETT

November 12th was the day in more ways than one. It was the day Dad was going to be elected President of the United States, and it was also the day I was going to win Addison back. I could feel it deep down in my bones. The Callahan men were going to be victorious.

The day started impossibly early as I woke up in my apartment for the first time in months. My offer for Mom and Dad to stay at my apartment had been vetoed, and instead, they had opted for a suite at The Plaza, which truthfully was closer to where he would be giving one of his final speeches.

Once Dad finished, he would be flying back to Alexandria so he and Mom could vote at their registered polling station. While Dad was speaking, I would make a quick run across town to cast my vote. Although we could have done absentee ballots, it was a time-honored tradition for a candidate and their family to vote in person.