cries when we get engaged. There’s no one better for her son. Her intuitions were right, and we’ll joke about this setup for years to come.
“You just like her because you picked her out,” James teases, giving me a wink.
“Excuse you,” Mrs Bianchi says. “I had the Very Good Feeling about Audrey. Besides which, she’s a lot less trouble than the two of you.”
I blush, and Warren greets his mom with a hug.
“You look great, Mom,” he compliments her, and then he turns to James. “Don’t be jealous that Mom likes Audrey more than either of us. Well, more than you. I’m still the favorite.”
“You’re such an ass,” James says, but he’s grinning.
“Boys—” Mrs Bianchi interjects in this faux fight between them.
“Still not allowing my mother to set me up,” James quips. “Though my publicist would have a field day with that.” He shakes his head. “Shit, I need a drink.”
He wanders away, and Artie comes over, kissing Mrs Bianchi on the cheek. Then he looks to me and smiles. “Audrey,” he says. “Good to see you.”
Is it? Because speaking of publicity, Artie’s Warren’s campaign manager and I have to wonder if Artie would still like me if he knew…
No.
Fantasy. Bubble.
I’m not letting anything inside the fantasy bubble tonight. I’ll be like Cinderella, enjoying the ball until the stroke of midnight. Or until breakfast, because I’m hoping to have Warren naked at the stroke of midnight and it’d be way too dramatic to run off barefoot in the middle of sex.
“Let’s hope you’re a good-luck charm for Warren tonight,” Artie says. “This speech is a big one. Hopefully, we can get a few soundbites that make it on Twitter—”
“Artie, I’m not trying to go viral or anything,” Warren says. “I’m just going to do the speech.”
“You’re right,” Artie says. “If you try, it’ll be stiff and manufactured. Just be yourself. Err, the charming version.”
“He’ll be great,” Mrs Bianchi says, eyes twinkling at me. “We’re all better when we’ve got someone in our corner.”
I gulp. She’ll be fine when this falls apart.
I’m not worried about that.
I’m in the fantasy bubble.
It’s safe in here. Totally safe.
“It’s what I’ve been telling him for years,” Artie says. “And besides, if he’s going to make a run for president, he can’t do it alone, can he? There’s no way the country will elect a single man, let alone a single man still under fifty.”
“What?” I stammer, barely able to get the single word out.
Because president? That’s next-level invasive. Even if I could erase the last year of my life, I’d have people digging into my third-grade spelling tests and finding pictures of me in high school with a beer in my hand.
And every ex-boyfriend in my history.
I am not political girlfriend material.
My skin feels clammy.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Artie kids. “Don’t panic, that’s six to ten years off.”
“Artie, don’t scare her off,” Warren says, clapping his hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t we eat?”
Yes. We should eat. If we’re eating, we won’t be talking. Because talking, apparently, is full of landmines threatening to detonate everything. We sit down and I keep myself busy eating bread until the entrées arrives and before we know it, it’s time for Warren’s speech. He presses a kiss to my cheek that makes Mrs Bianchi aww, and I try not to make eye contact with her. Or James. Or Artie. Or anyone else.
I just focus intently on my nondescript chicken, the entrée of choice at any large event, and then on Warren when he starts speaking.
It’s a speech about public education reform. Which I’d probably have known beforehand if I’d been paying just a wee bit more attention. He talks passionately about how this is an issue close to his heart, and how he’ll fight for this state to be a leader in education. And even though I know he’s not intending to go viral, I already know that there’ll be some soundbites circulating tomorrow. He’s just that charming, that eloquent. And he’s real. That’s what people love about him. They know he’s not pretending to give a shit about them because he doesn’t pretend. I’m smiling just thinking about it when his eyes land on me in the crowd.
“It’s important that we remember why we do the work we do,” he says. “For me, that’s for my family. My daughter. Even my brother.”
Laughter goes up, and James holds up his whiskey in a faux salute.
“But I also have to thank my girlfriend, Audrey Gibson,” Warren says.