The Wife Draft (Peterick)

Washington: The Avowal

The air in the hotel room was tense. Brendon and I hadn't spoken since the interview. I knew he was hurt that I was hiding something so major, but he refused to admit it. If he was waiting for me to talk to him, he would be waiting a very long time.

He went to shower, and once I heard the water running, I took the envelope from where it was stowed away in my suitcase. I felt like my life was living out of a suitcase. I just unpacked from months overseas, and then I had to pack again for a weekend in the capital. And soon, I would be packing for a month in New Orleans. That was the only trip I wanted to pack for.

I still had another picture to look at. And it was better than the prior two. The focus was on his enhanced lips and flawless skin. I wished that I could see the color painted onto his enchanting lips. Every photo he sent me was black and white.

I loved his lips. I had never kissed a pair as soft and gentle as his. They felt like happiness and safety. Not even the teddy bear I had as a child felt as warm against my face as his kisses.

His lips were superlative without any makeup, so seeing the shine caused by the lipstick during the flash of the camera made my mouth water.

Patrick wasn't allowed to be that gorgeous. There was no way it was legal. It was going to be difficult to resist the urge to kiss him as soon as I saw him.

The photos he sent me weren't random. He played to my weaknesses. Pictures of the lips I wouldn't stop kissing. Innocence disguised behind makeup. His guitars played to my love of his singing voice.

I had to start playing the game back. He was the jealous type. He always kissed my jaw and touched my chest. If he was going to tease me, I had to tease back.

I put everything back in the envelope and stowed it back in my suitcase when I heard Brendon turn off the water in the bathroom.

I got under the white sheets and sighed. My black hair was still damp from my shower twenty minutes earlier, and I could feel the water seeping into the pillowcase. I turned onto my right side so Brendon would only see my back. I stared at the window, even though the tan curtains were pulled shut by Brendon as soon as we entered the room.

I wished I could see the moon. Patrick would see it as well. The knowledge that we were always looking at the same moon, sun, and stars made me feel as though we weren't so far away.

The bathroom door opened behind me, and I quickly shut my eyes. If I pretended to be asleep already, Brendon would just get in bed next to me and leave me alone.

"Pete?"

I squeezed my eyes shut tighter. He gave me a few seconds to answer before sighing. I felt the covers tug next to me, and Brendon laid down, plopping his head onto the pillow.

The paper's budget was blown after sending the two of us overseas, so we had to share a bed for our night in the capital. Brendon didn't mind as long as he didn't have to sleep on the floor. I was reminded of the last time I shared a hotel bed. I would share a bed with Patrick over Brendon any day.

The special edition, however, was a massive hit. We beat The New York Times for the first time in our paper's history. Armstrong was ecstatic, and I was more than happy to let him take all the credit for the work and horror that Brendon and I had to endure.

Joe wanted to throw a party in the park and make it an open invitation to the entire city of Pittsburgh. I told him that if he went through with it, the entire city of Pittsburgh would watch as I pushed him into the Monongahela. The idea was immediately swept under the rug.

Some days, I found myself wishing that I never went overseas. The nightmares the memories gave me were slowing down, but they still left me in a cold sweat when I awoke. I hated all the attention from the public outside of Pennsylvania. I wasn't born for radio interviews and celebrity gossip magazines. I wasn't a celebrity, but suddenly, the entire country wanted to know everything about me. Sure, I was famous at home for my job and last name, but the national attention was horrifying.