She let out a breath. “That’s not funny, John.”

“Is anything wrong?”

“It was a long day, that’s all.”

He walked to the end of the bed and sat down. “I caught your speech. I thought it was perfect. Was that Evan’s work?”

“He wrote the rough draft—I added a few touches of my own.”

“I thought so. I can always tell. So what did you think of your hometown?”

“A grimy little backwater with no economy and substandard housing and education—I wish we could bulldoze the place so we could save the tax dollars on infrastructure. The mountains are full of these little hovels.”

“Not exactly a glowing assessment.”

“But fair.”

“Still, I think you were right to go there. You got a lot of good press coverage today—and those are cameras that weren’t at the Patriot Center. You met a lot of people too, and every one of them is in our back pocket now.”

You met a lot of people, she thought—but she could only remember one.

The senator smiled. “So you won’t be moving home just yet?”

“I told you, that’s not funny. Look, I was just about to take a bath— is there something you need?”

“Just wanted to check in. I don’t see a lot of you these days.”

“Well, the schedule’s pretty tight.” She walked to the door and opened it, then turned to him and waited.

He nodded and got up from the bed; in the doorway he stopped and looked at her. “I just don’t want us to end up like some of the others,” he said. “You know—holding hands but leaving fingernail marks.”

“Thanks, I’ll add it to the agenda.”

He turned to leave but she stopped him; she leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. “Some other time,” she whispered.

She shut the door firmly behind him.

She walked into the bathroom and twisted both handles on the Jacuzzi, sending a torrent of water cascading into the deep white basin. She almost felt sorry for Johnny—almost. She wasn’t naive enough to believe that the junior senator from Virginia had simply fallen in love with her eight years ago; he was an ambitious man and it wasn’t that easy. John Henry Braden saw in her the same things the cameras saw: beauty, grace, and poise. He needed those things—not to fill his soul but his ticket. She wasn’t angry or resentful, because she knew in her heart that she had struck the same bargain. Johnny was a handsome man, a successful man, but he was empty: a beautiful package that had nothing inside—at least, nothing that called to her. They were just two images that complemented each other well; two faces that voters could remember; two travelers on a journey to the same place.