The Next Mrs Russo - Jana Aston Page 0,80
a small huff. “Which is why Gary acts out.”
“Acts out? By doing cat things?”
I nod and stuff another donut hole in my mouth.
“Hmm. Well, I feel like I should get the obvious out of the way.”
“Please do.” I shrug, ready for it.
“The pet psychic doesn’t know anything about you.”
“Hmm.” I suppose that’s a very nice way of saying the pet psychic is a scam. Which is what I was expecting him to say.
“You never hesitate. You always say exactly what’s on your mind.”
Oh, I really don’t. Like not even half of it.
“That’s only because I don’t have a filter,” I tell him. Really, the only reason every stupid thought in my head doesn’t make it out of my mouth is a simple lack of time combined with a dash of self-preservation.
Warren shakes his head. “I’ve seen you at work. You don’t waver. You had a game plan for an estate sale. You move nonstop in your shop, I’ve seen you. Once you get an idea in your head you’re unstoppable.”
“Pfft.” I wave a hand. “That’s just my process.”
“I think you’re proving my point.”
I bite my lip. He doesn’t understand. And I don’t know how to make him understand without revealing more than I want to.
“Never mind,” I say, picking at another donut. “Like you said, just a pet psychic. I guess that sometimes… sometimes, I just wonder if I’ll ever be good enough.”
It’s vague. He’ll think I’m talking about my job which, honestly, I’ve felt that a thousand times. Imposter syndrome’s a fucking bitch.
But he won’t know I’m really talking about him.
About us.
The words hang between us. I feel his gaze on me, piercing and heavy. He leans back and rubs his chin, and when he speaks again, it’s in a softer, lower voice.
“You know, when I first got into politics, no one thought I could do it,” he says. “People told me all the time that I wasn’t personable enough. My own mother even told me I was too cold. And she put it nicely.”
“You’re not cold,” I reply, meeting his gaze.
I mean, yeah, Warren’s always had that no-bullshit attitude ever since I started paying attention to him. He’s a bit aloof, more than a bit reserved. He’s not a man to waste words on fluffy platitudes. I get it though. If you weren’t inclined to dig a little deeper, he might appear, at surface level, cold.
“I had so many advisers tell me that I needed to portray a better image. Trot out the family for photo ops. But what they didn’t know was that my marriage was falling apart, and there was no way I was going to force Bethany into the public eye just because I had a publicity issue. So I decided I’d just focus on what I was good at—policy and getting shit done. And to hell with the rest of it. Let the chips fall where they may. Or the votes, in this case.”
“Yeah, well”—I smile—“it works for you, Guv’nor.”
“You’re good enough, Audrey,” he says, the words soft.
Now I’m not just blushing. My whole body’s on fire. It would be so easy to change the subject to something else, something easier, but I don’t want to. I want to live in this moment with him and never leave. It’s honest and terrifying, but it also makes me feel… safe.
“I never feel appropriate enough,” I say. “It’s like all the other girls figured out what to say and how to act, and I just never did. I always feel like I don’t belong. So I’m alone most of the time, unless someone basically forces me to be their friend. Like Miller.”
I laugh, thinking of that bizarre, ballsy kid. I wrote his letter of recommendation the other day. Poured my heart into it. Grammatical issues and all. At least I told the truth, and the truth is that that kid is going places and they should be honored to have him in their program.
“Alone in a crowd,” Warren says. “I learned early on to be very selective about who I could rely on. That it’s better to rely on myself than to be disappointed in someone else.”
Exactly. That’s exactly how I’ve always felt! Like everyone around me had a safety net of people that I didn’t have. Like no one ever truly saw me. But it’s a stark reminder that I haven’t really let Warren see me either. And I’m the last person he should have in his safety net.
“Then when I got married, I—” He