Granted, I had much bigger things to worry about, but focusing on the sexual drought I was experiencing was easier. Safer. And if it made me a coward, I could live with that. For now.

I’d worked tirelessly trying to make progress with the notebook. I’d even considered asking Con for help. But I couldn’t do it. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him, but the need for secrecy was crushing. People would kill for the information I had. I was pretty damn certain of that.

I also considered telling Simon the truth more times than I could count. But just the thought of admitting to all of my lies had bile rising up in my throat and eating away the words like battery acid.

“If you keep begging, I’m going to make you wait longer.”

I glared at him. “I’m fine.”

We were sitting on the couch in his den, watching a movie. A movie. Like high school freshmen on a handholding-only date.

“You’re pretty hot when you’re pissed.”

“Then you’re going to think I’m goddamn gorgeous if you won’t fuck me tonight. Why am I the guy in this relationship? Why can’t you be as hard up for it as I am?”

Simon’s smile turned sinister. “Did you really just call me the girl in this relationship?”

“Hell yes, I did. You’re giving me a complex.”

He shook his head slowly. “Charlie, you really are something else.” He reached behind the sofa and produced a large box. “If I were the girl in this relationship, I think you’d be giving this to me and not the other way around.” He set it in my lap.

“What is that?”

“A present.”

“But why?”

“Just open it, okay?”

I looked down at the blue box with black lettering. It was from a fabulous boutique specializing in 1950s and rockabilly dresses. Eighteen months ago I could have bought the whole store; now, I could only afford to look.

As excited as I wanted to be about what was probably inside the box, I feared we’d end up at another impasse. Or worse, another fight. “Simon—”

“Just open the damn box, Charlie.”

I lifted the lid and handed it to him. I parted the tissue paper to reveal a gorgeous red dress and a black and red-feathered mask. I lifted the dress out. It was one I had drooled over in the window—ruched sweetheart neckline, thick straps and a full skirt. It was fabulous.

My heart sank as I lifted my eyes to Simon’s face. He wasn’t smiling.

“I’m not giving you an ultimatum. I’m simply extending an invitation. I would love to have you next to me on the Fourth, but if you can’t, I’ll get over it. What I won’t get over is losing you again.”

I squeezed my eyes shut against the sting of tears. He lifted the box from my lap and folded the dress and put it back inside. Once again the words of confession bubbled up inside of me. But when Simon pulled me close and tucked me against him, the thud of his heartbeat and my desperate need to savor the moment pushed them back down.

I am a coward. A lying coward who doesn’t deserve him.

I stood on the deck of the Steamboat Orleans and sipped my scotch. Derek stood next to me, leaning against the railing. We hadn’t seen much of each other since his wedding in May. Between his honeymoon and newlywed status, and my chasing after Charlie, we’d lost touch. But he was here tonight because I’d asked him to come. I was still holding out hope that the other person I’d asked to come would show up. Because of the fireworks, the Orleans was staying docked all evening. There would be no excuse of missing the boat. I’m not sure if that made it better or worse.

“Your dad’s in fine form this evening,” Derek said. He was scanning the crowd for Mandy. She’d gone off to the ladies room to readjust her mask. Apparently, it was ruining her hairstyle.

I tipped my scotch back, swallowing a healthy swig. “Ain’t that the truth.”

My father had arranged for Arthur Jackson, his choice for a campaign manager, to attend. They’d cornered me for an interminable fifteen minutes before I could escape to the bar. I was here tonight to support two great causes—and to help gain support for my own. I wasn’t here to talk about campaign tactics or fundraising or any other bullshit that my dad threw at me at every opportunity. It wasn’t even time to officially kick off the campaign, and I was already sick of it all. The urge to tell my father to forget it was strong and growing stronger every day. Local politics was one thing, but the idea of jetting off to D.C. and kissing every ass on Capitol Hill to accomplish anything left a sour taste in my mouth.

I couldn’t hold my tongue when I thought something was bullshit. I called a spade a spade. I didn’t know how my father had done it. He had some higher need for intrigue, machinations, and manipulation that I didn’t share. I’d entertained the possibility because he was so damn invested in it. I’d never been a disappointment to my father, but in this, I would be. It was time for him to face facts: I was not cut out to be a career politician.

Gut instinct told me it was the right decision. And once I’d made it, I could focus on the things I actually wanted to do: keep running day-to-day operations of Southern Cross, continue improving my hometown on the NOLA City Council, push forward with The Kingman Project, and figure out what a future with Charlie was going to look like.

I tossed back the rest of my scotch. I’d have to tell him tonight before he got any further down the road of campaigning on my behalf.

“Well, holy shit. Would you take a look at that?” Derek said.

I followed his gaze to the dock. A woman was strolling up to the boat wearing a siren red dress and black and red-feathered mask. Waves of black, red, and purple hair bounced with each step.

I dropped my empty glass on the tray of a passing server. “I believe that’s my date.”

Derek slapped my shoulder. “Better go after her before the sharks start circling.”

Several heads had craned in Charlie’s direction as she made her way up to the ship. Shit. She looked amazing. I pressed through the crowd to meet her at the railing as she stepped onto the deck.

“You’re here.”

She nodded. Her aqua eyes stood out even more brilliantly against the feathers of her mask. I bent to kiss her cheek, not wanting to smear her crimson lips.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. And I never thanked you properly for the dress. So thank you for that too.”