“I suppose you want to have a big-ass garden in your huge backyard in your fantasy home someday, too?”
She turned to see Gray behind her. “I don’t need some fantastically large house.
Just a big tree for a tire swing. And okay, a nice-sized backyard for my currently nonexistent children that I hope to have someday.”
He stepped up to her. “Going to be hard to have all that and your epic career in the White House, too.”
She lifted her chin. “Why can’t I have both? Why do I have to choose?”
He looked taken aback and she realized she was letting her passion for this topic get the best of her. “Sorry. It’s a subject I’ve had some rather heated debates about.”
They had been walking through the garden and Gray led her to a bench overlooking a rather impressive fountain. She took a seat and he sat next to her.
“Hey, I was joking. But obviously someone told you that you couldn’t have a career and your fantasy husband, children, and house with the tire swing?”
“I was once told that I could choose my career track to the White House or a family, but I’d have to sacrifice one in order to have the other, and I’d have to choose.”
“Probably my father.”
“No. It wasn’t your father. It was someone else. A mentor whom I admired very much. And a woman. She told me I’d be great in political office, but I’d never be successful at it if I also wanted to have a family. It would stretch me too thin.”
He laid his arm over the back of the bench and stared at the dolphins spouting water out their mouths. “Frankly, I think that’s a crock of shit and seems like a very old-school way of thinking.”
She turned toward him. “Are you just feeding me a line?”
“No. There are plenty of congresswomen and senators with husbands and children, aren’t there?”
“Yes.”
“Then why couldn’t you have both?”
She looked down at her lap. “Honestly? Despite it being what I’d like, it really is a fantasy. I don’t see myself ever having a career in public office. I don’t have the background for it.”
“Bullshit, Evelyn. Where was that fire from a minute ago, when you said you wouldn’t settle for less than everything you wanted?”
She always did this, always vacillated between what she wanted and what she knew she’d likely never have. A poor girl with no roots, no established background, and no means didn’t—shouldn’t ever—have aspirations like she had.
But she did have those aspirations, wanted those things, and she couldn’t help herself.
“Tell me where you’re from,” he said, his voice soft as the darkness.
His tone eased some of her anxiety. She leaned back, the solid feel of his arm a comfort instead of a distraction.
“I’m from everywhere. My father did construction jobs, so we moved around a lot when I was a kid.”
“How much is a lot?”
She thought back. “Probably once a year at least. Sometimes more, depending on the work. It was important to him to always have a job so he could provide for the family, so we went wherever the work was.”
“Which was why you never had a house.”
She turned to face him. “Yes. There was no sense in putting down roots when we knew we’d have to pull them up and move on at a moment’s notice.”
He rubbed her back, his fingers trailing down her spine. She shivered.
“It must have been hard for you to do that.”
She shrugged. “It was an adventure, at least when I was younger. Seeing new cities and towns was fun. My teen years were more difficult. It’s harder to fit in and make friends when you get to high school and you’re in and out like that.”
“But you settled in at college?”
She smiled at the memory. “You have no idea what it was like to be able to spend that many years in one place. It gave me such a sense of peace and belonging. I formed friendships there that I’ll have for a lifetime.”
“See, that’s the kind of human interest stories that voters love. I can’t imagine you as anything other than a viable candidate, especially since you’ve put down roots in D.C., which I assume you have.”
“It’s where I’ve lived ever since I graduated college. I got my master’s degree at Georgetown, too.”
“Look at you. Already a lock for political office.”
She laughed. “I don’t know about that, but I have goals. Pretty lofty ones.”
“So what do you want to do when you grow up?” he asked with a teasing smile.
“Seriously? I’d like to run for office. Start locally, then work my way up to a statewide office. Then . . . we’ll see. I don’t want there to be limitations.”
“Those are good goals to have. And you’re plenty young enough to see them through. Are you even thirty yet?”
“Not quite yet.”
“Lots of time to have everything you want, Evelyn. The career, the husband, the kids, and that house with the tire swing.”
She sighed and stared at the fountain. Gray was right. She could have it all. She had to continue to believe in herself. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For believing in the things you think I can do. You don’t even know me.” No one knew her. She did her job and did it well and efficiently. That’s how she ended up working for someone as high up the political ladder as Senator Preston. She had a social circle of friends who knew her, at least knew the Evelyn Hill she wanted them to know. But no one knew the child she had been, knew her dreams about the tire swing.
Now Gray knew. He was the last person she would have thought to tell that story to.
She figured him to be the silent, brooding, good-looking type, more about himself and his cars than interested in hearing about her life.
Yet here they sat in this garden while she had done all the talking. He asked all the right questions, made it easy for her to open up, something she so rarely did. Usually she was the one asking all the questions.
What a twist.
“Hey, are you two hiding and making out here? We’re about to set fire to my cake.
A lot of candles, you know.”
Gray stood and laughed at Craig, then he held out his hand for her.
“Wouldn’t miss that for the world,” Gray said, and he led her down the path toward the house.