“How did you say you came to a decision to live here, again?” I ask him.
He shrugs as we walk into the ornate lobby. “I got a buddy who lives here,” he says.
“Someone from your wilder days?” I ask, eyebrows raised.
I can’t help it. Lance looks very cute carrying little Lola Grace in the baby carrier. A bad boy, certifiably with his tattoos, now a daddy.
“A buddy of mine from a while ago, actually, Arsen Hawke,” he says.
The name rings a bell for me. “The porn king?” I ask.
He nods. “His dad was the porn king, but he met some girl and they run it like a business now.”
“The guy who’s making webcams come into the mainstream?” I ask Lance. I’m a bit skeptical. “He’s not going to want to film Lola Grace or something, is he?”
Lance laughs. “Nah, but he’ll probably be down to him us.”
I give Lance a look. He looks at me and smiles and whatever withering stare I may have tried vanishes. I love this man too much to even be fake mad at him.
You know that feeling, hun? Where you’re mad at your significant other for being too cute to not let you be mad at them? Like you try to be mad at you, but then they just smirk or smile, or touch you somewhere and you stop being mad? And then you get mad that they were able to take away your anger?
Let me just say that I’d rather be mad about this, than where I was one year ago. Right before the election.
We open the door to the apartment and walk in.
It’s already furnished rather tastefully. I hired someone while we were in Europe to make sure that the apartment was ready for us.
What? I would have loved to do it myself, but it’s really hard when you have to have sex three times a day and take care of a baby.
Although, hun, the sex part - I don’t have to do it. It’s just that my body seems to want it that often, is all. Like I’ve been walking in a desert, and now I finally have all the water I could drink.
Besides, the $10 million a month that Michael pays me as a settlement lets me not have to worry about these things. Combined with Lance’s trust fund, I’d say we’re doing pretty good. Considering where we were.
There’s a knock at the door.
“That must be Michael,” Lance thinks and I’m almost tempted to say speak of the devil.
It’s funny. I want to stay mad at Lance, but I’ve already forgotten what that’s like. But Michael. I’m not mad at Michael. It’s just a chill that runs through me when I see him walk in the door.
He doesn’t have the human feelings that are supposed to be in people. Something like that. No way else to explain any of this…
“Hello,” Michael says walking in. “I just wanted to stop by, welcome you to my city, and visit my granddaughter.”
Lance shakes his hand and I bite back the urge to tell him he’s not related to our little family in any way. I was never married to him. He was never Lance’s father. But I stop.
“She’s beautiful,” Michael says bending over and examining Lola Grace.
The baby looks up at Michael, in a few minutes she’ll be crawling around the apartment, exploring. But for now, she’s content to stay bundled up where she is.
Michael gets up and turns around.
He hands Lance an envelope.
“Come back to work for the company and the campaign son,” he says to him. “Here is everything I have, and I think I’ve met your conditions.”
“The media hitting you that badly, huh?” Lance asks.
Michael shakes his head. “Not at all, actually,” he says. “They’ve embraced this whole breaking barriers thing I’m putting up at them. Really taking the narrative of the first openly gay mayor to heart.”