Chapter 9: Sam

There's no longer a choice in the matter.

I can't keep doing this. I need to find a girl who, you know, actually wants to be with me. And that girl isn't Violet Winterfield. No matter how much I might want it to be. It's an ugly truth that needs to be accepted.

"I thought I heard your voice."

With a phone in one hand and a stack of papers in the other, Dad steps into the sunny kitchen. His appearance is, as usual, impeccable. Even on the weekend. He's wearing a pair of perfectly pressed tan slacks and a crisp looking light blue button down. This is as casual as he gets. I don't think the guy owns a pair of jeans or ratty old gym shoes. His salt and pepper colored hair is short and perfectly shaped. Every other week, a stylist comes to the house to give him a trim. Unless he's in DC. Then I have no clue what he does. I assume someone comes to his condo to cut his hair.

I tip my head toward our neighbor's house. "I was fixing something next door and thought I'd stop over for a few minutes to see how everything's going."

He nods but already I can tell he's losing interest or at least mentally running through everything that still needs to be accomplished for the day. I think he honestly works twenty-four seven, which is something else I'm not quite sure I want to do.

It's not that he seems unhappy or even burnt out. I think the man enjoys what he does. He flourishes on bringing opposing sides together and hammering out deals that are beneficial to all parties involved. Or hopping on a plane and flying across the country on a redeye. And the constant campaign strategy sessions don't seem to be a problem. He loves holding town hall meetings and speaking with constituents. Instead of buckling under the stress and strain that comes with being a high-profile political figure, he thrives on the pressure. Sometimes I have to wonder if the man has ADHD, because he's constantly on the move, always going from one thing to another. I'm exhausted just thinking about the schedule he keeps.

Once I fall silent, he turns to my mom. "You'll be ready to leave by two?"

She nods before giving me a look. "Another fundraiser."

My mom hates those big fancy dinners, but she's always a good sport about attending because they're unavoidable. It's one of the ways my dad raises money for his war chest.

"How long will you guys be gone?"

"At least four hours," Mom says.

An idea takes shape in my head. "Maybe I'll see if Violet wants to stick around for the afternoon and we can stay with the kids."

"Gavin and Ari would love that. They adore Violet. Especially Ari. She really misses having her around."

"More than me?" I'm teasing of course.

Sort of.

With a smile, she shakes her head. "Never more than you."

"I'll see if she can hang for the afternoon." I slide my cell from my pocket and shoot Violet a text. Within moments, she fires back a reply. She's finished with most of her studying for the weekend, so staying until six isn't a problem.

My attention gets pulled back to Dad when he says, "Mom said the game went well yesterday."

I'm about to give him a condensed version of the highlights when his cell goes off.

With a sigh, he glances at the screen before muttering, "Sorry, I need to take this. It's important." As he answers the call, a smile breaks out across his face as he booms, "Mike! Thanks for getting back to me so quickly." There's a pause before he says, "I know, I know. That's why I thought it was important for us to put our heads together on this one." Another pause. "Do you have fifteen minutes to talk?"

And then he's gone, disappearing back into his office. Both my mom and I hear the door close firmly behind him. He'll probably stay holed up in the study until it's time to leave for the fundraiser. Silently, my gaze slides to hers. For a split-second, she stares down the hallway. A frown mars her normally smiling face.

I can't help but feel bad for her.

It's almost like she's stuck in a marriage which in no way resembles a partnership. Sometimes I wonder if she's satisfied with the choices she's made in life and how everything turned out. Sure, she has three healthy kids, a nice home, and a comfortable lifestyle, but she's married to a guy who is never around. And she gave up a career that I'm pretty sure she enjoyed.

As I stare at her, I realize that this isn't the kind of marriage I want for myself. I don't want to give seventy percent of my time to my career and thirty percent to the person I've chosen to spend the rest of my life with. What sucks is that when I envision my future, it's Violet who I think about. I have to remind myself that it will take time to let go of all the hopes and dreams I've carried around with me and for new ones to spring up in their place.

Violet stays at her grandparent's house for another hour which is exactly when Ari and Gavin are supposed to arrive home. Since Gavin is fourteen and a good kid, he usually keeps an eye on Ari when my parents head out for a couple of hours.

The front door opens with a crash as feet pound against the dark cherry wood flooring. Almost comically, Gavin screeches to a halt when he sees me loitering in the kitchen with the Chinese I ordered for dinner.

"Dude, what are you doing here?" he says.

"Nice to see you too, dude," I say with a smile.

He flips his long blond hair out of his eyes until I'm able to catch a glimpse of his face.

Jeez.

Exactly how long has it been since I've seen my little brother? I swear he's grown at least another inch and his hair now resembles a mop. Albeit a perfectly tousled one, which makes me want to laugh. Only recently has he kicked his personal hygiene habits into high gear.

This is exactly the kind of effect the opposite sex has on guys his age. I know it all too well.

I can't resist lifting my chin toward his head. "Bet Dad loves your hair."

He snorts before folding his arms across his chest. Already I can tell that he's going to be broad just like I am. He might find himself playing defense rather than QB when he's older. Although I hope not. Gavin loves the position, and he has real talent.

A smirk settles across his face. "He hates it, but I'm still not cutting it."

My lips lift.

Good for him.

My dad is all about our public persona and how we look portrayed as a family, which is why he has an image consultant on the payroll. What I can and can not do has been hammered into my head from a young age. Especially during an election cycle. My father would probably shit a brick if I ever pulled some of the crap I hear about from the guys on the football team.

It's why I try to keep a low profile at all times.

Again, I can't help but wonder if politics is the right career path for me. The necessity to be perfect all the time, afraid to make the tiniest mistake or take a misstep, seems exhausting. Not to mention, the pressure of living your life under a microscope.

Dismissing those thoughts, I tell him, "Looks good on you, bud."

He gives me another cheeky smile before catching sight of the white cardboard containers on the marble island.

"Please tell me you ordered kung pow chicken."

I cock a brow. "Have I seriously been away that long?"

He snorts in response before grabbing a plate from the cabinet.

I'm about to ask where Ari is when I hear the front door open and female voices fill the foyer.

"You're staying with us, and Sam is here, too?"

My little sister sounds thrilled by the prospect. It only makes me feel guilty for not returning home more often to see them.

"Yup, you've got us until six o'clock," Violet says.

"Yay!" That exuberant shout is followed up with another question. "Can we give each other mani-pedis?"

"Sure. I thought we could also try out some of those fancy hairstyle videos you were showing me last time."

My chest clenches at the sound of Violet's voice.

A second later, Ari barrels into the kitchen like a locomotive. She's all long legs and skinny elbows. Like my brother, she's grown, too. Sheesh. The pair of them are like weeds. She all but launches herself at me and like always, I catch her mid-air in my arms, hugging her close until she's gasping for breath in between squeals of laughter.

There's a smile curving Violet's lips as she follows my sister into the kitchen. I can't resist grinning in return as our gazes collide. She loves Gavin and Ari as if they were her own. And I know they feel the same about her. Ari thinks of her as the sister she never had. Even though I realize that no one will ever take the place of Isabelle, Violet's younger sister who died in the car accident along with her parents, I know they have a special bond.

Violet has become an important part of their lives. But that will change next year. I hate how unsettled the notion makes me feel when I dwell on the future. What I hate most of all, is that for the first time in eight years, Violet and I won't be together.

She'll be off living her own life.

And I'll be doing the same.