Chapter 11
“April!”
“Stop shouting!”
“I need the…” he stormed out of his office and into the bullpen. “I need the report!” he said no quieter than before.
April whipped around and stared at him. “And I’m working on getting it for you,” she said quietly through gritted teeth.
“From where?
“Go away!” she shouted back at him.
“Do your job!”
“It’s not my job to listen to you scream like a lunatic! They’re sending it over; you’re going to have to wait!”
He hit the glass on her partition and shouted, “Incompetence!” before going into his office and slamming the door.
He paced his office for over a minute, cursing and mumbling to himself, before sitting heavily in his chair, putting his elbows on his desk and rubbing his eyes. He needed an assistant who did her job and didn’t give him shit. He wasn’t putting up with her crap for another four years.
Then he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. April wasn’t the problem and he knew it. What he really needed was sleep. Sleep in a bed without nightmares, without constantly waking up, without staring at the ceiling. It was getting worse, whatever it was he was going through, but he told himself again that he just needed to get through the next two days. After the election, things would calm down. He’d take a day or two off work, sleep in and read the sports page. Take his mom to a movie. Maybe he’d go away for a long weekend. He just needed to relax. That’s all it was.
He sighed and sat up, he’d have to apologize to April at some point, but he doubted he had the strength, either physically or mentally, to do it right then. Instead, he opened a file on the trade agreement and tried to focus on the words.
A few minutes later Sam knocked on his door and without waiting for a reply, walked in and closed it behind him. He held out a report towards Josh’s desk. “April asked me to give this to you. Something about seeing you and killing you.”
Josh looked up wearily and took the report from him. He honestly didn’t remember needing it, and as he looked at the title, “FDA: April 2001 New and Generic Drug Approvals,” he wondered if unconsciously he’d asked for it just so he’d have a reason to scream. “I might have yelled a little bit.”
Sam took a few steps back and leaned against the wall. “I might have heard you from my office.”
“Ahh…”
“Josh…”
“Don’t, Sam,” he said, shaking his head and putting the file down on his desk.
“Don’t what?”
He ran his hand through his hair and over his face before looking back up at Sam. “Talk to me in that ‘Josh is losing it’ tone of voice.”
“I’m not using any tone, but Josh, this is all starting to look familiar.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re not sleeping, you’re not eating, you’re screaming at your assistants and anyone else who dares cross your path, you’re hitting things, you pounced on Roberts yesterday when you were supposed to be courting his vote, you…
“You’re not my shrink, Sam,” he said, cutting him off.
“No I’m not. Why don’t you pay yours a visit?”
Josh stared at him. He knew he was right, but couldn’t admit it. He couldn’t be having a set back, because if he was, it would be due at least in part to the fact that Donna was in his life again. And that was something he absolutely refused to change.
They continued staring at each other, at an impasse, until the beeping intercom interrupted the staring contest they were engaged in. He looked at the blinking button in shock at its use and hit it. “Yeah?”
“Donna Moss, line three,” April said in a completely professional and cold tone. “Should I take a message?”
His sighed and hung his head. “No, I’ll take it.” He paused. “Thank you, April.”
She hung up without answering and he scribbled, “flowers/April” on a post-it note before looking up at Sam. “I need to take this.”
“I’m not trying to be an ass, Josh. People are starting to notice.”
Josh looked at him for a few seconds before nodding reluctantly at him. “And they nominated you?”
Sam smiled. “I drew the short straw. I’ll let you…” he nodded towards the phone.
“I’ll think about it. Shut the door on your way out, would you?” He looked back at the phone, but didn’t pick it up until he heard his office door close quietly behind Sam. Finally, he took a deep breath and answered. “Hey.”
“I haven’t seen you in eight days,” she said matter-of-factly instead of hello.
He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. “Believe me, I know.”
“I’ve decided I don’t care for it.”
He felt a smile tug at his lips. “I don’t care for it much myself,” he said. “We’re going to have to rectify the situation.”
“Yeah?” she asked doubtfully. “How do you propose we do that? You’re a tad bit busy for two more days.”
“I’ll never make it two more days. I’m going through withdrawal. April and Sam are about to kill me.”
“Why?”
He winced even though she couldn’t see him. “I might be a bit on the grumpy side.”
“Grumpy, huh?” she said, teasing him. “I am pretty hard to live without.”
“What happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“My office. It… exists.”
“It’s always existed. It was just difficult to find under the massive piles of crap.”
“That explains the smell.”
“No, the molding Chinese take-out containers explain the smell. How did you ever live without me?”
“I have no idea.”
“You have no idea.”
“So, how do you propose we rectify the situation?”
“Well,” he said as leaned forward in his chair again, looking at the schedule he’d argued with April about earlier. “What if I mysteriously disappeared tonight, say around… seven, only to reappear around
“And your location during this mysterious absence?”
“Someplace where I won’t run into anyone from congress, the press, my staff, or Ritchie’s staff.” He sighed, doubting that place existed.
“I think I know a place just like that,” she said with a smile in her voice.
He chuckled. “You do?”
“I do indeed. There’s a townhouse on
His eyes widened at the thought of her cooking for him and his mouth watered at the thought of food on plates. “Home-cooked?”
“I believe tonight’s menu is chicken breast stuffed with feta cheese, steamed broccoli, and a salad with a light vinaigrette dressing.”
“That sounds… amazing.”
“Yeah?” she asked in a way that made him picture her smiling coyly at him. “Should I make you a reservation?”
“Yes.”
“Ok. See you tonight. And be nice to Sam and April.”
“Yes ma’am.”
**********
Leaving at seven turned into leaving at
“You’re fighting with Mandy again?”
“Always. How did you know?”
“You’re holding roses.”
“Maybe they’re for you.”
“I like lilies.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He bounded up the steps of her building two at a time, breathing a small sigh of relief that there was no note taped to the door for him, and rang the buzzer. “Come on up,” she said a few seconds later just as he heard the door buzz. He swung it open with one hand and was already knocking on her door before he heard is click shut again.
She opened the door wearing a pair of shorts and a Bartlet for
"Where’d you get the Bartlet for
“I borrowed it from your suitcase.”
“You stole it from me?”
“I told you, I only steal food. I borrowed it.”
“From my suitcase…”
“Yes.”
“Will I ever get it back?”
“I wouldn’t hold your breath if I were you. Anyway, it looks cuter on me.”
“Cute shirt,” he said smiling, taking her in.
She smiled brilliantly at him, making him feel like the only man in the world. “Thanks, come in.” She held the door open and he walked in, still looking at her. He couldn’t believe how young and fresh and innocent she looked. It was as if he’d just walked in on her in
“I brought flowers,” he said dumbly, still staring at her, the flowers hanging from one hand at his side.
She laughed a little at him. “They look… nice.”
Her laugh caught his attention and he broke out of his little reverie and looked at her to see her looking down at the flowers in his hand. “Oh,” he said, holding them up for her to take. “Here.”
Her mouth dropped open and her smile widened, and he smiled back, grateful he’d remembered her flower preference. “Wow,” she said quietly, reaching out to take them from him and brushing his fingers with hers. His breath caught a little, and instead of letting her take the flowers, he intertwined his fingers with hers and stepped in closer to her, kissing her lightly.
He pulled back slightly from the kiss, but was still so close that he could feel her breathing on his lips. “I was hoping you were going to do that again,” she whispered.
Her words surprised him, but when he recovered a second later, he kissed her again, harder and deeper, his tongue swiping her lower lip, causing them both to moan. She leaned into him and he could feel her fingers in his hair as both of her arms came around his neck. She opened her mouth and he wasted no time in finding her tongue with his own as he dropped whatever was in his hand, his keys, a bomb, he had no idea, and put an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him as he leaned back against the door.
His senses were on overload. His other hand was in her hair, pulling the ponytail out, running his fingers through the soft fine silk as soon as the scrunchie was out of the way. She scratched lightly at his scalp with her fingernails and he found himself wondering of all things, what color they were painted. She sucked at his lower lip and he groaned again, pulling his thoughts back to her mouth. Their tongues began dancing once more and it made perfect sense to him that they would be amazing at this; their tongues had always danced with each other. He could taste a hint of lemon in her mouth and wondered if she’d tested the chicken she’d promised him.
The hand on her back was slowly moving up and down and on an upwards swipe, took part of her shirt with it. When his hand hit bare back, she made what sounded like a whimper to him and then his mind was on the sounds she would make in bed. He wondered if she would scream, moan, whisper, pant… wondered what his name would sound like on her lips as she climaxed, wondered what her collarbone would taste like as he did.
She pulled back from his mouth then, grasping for air, and he buried his face in her neck, kissing and licking anything he could reach with the t-shirt in the way. When he took her earlobe in his mouth and sucked on it, she gasped his name and his knees nearly buckled. He sucked on it for a few more seconds, then kissed her ear, her jaw, and finally her lips softly as he pulled back slightly and looked at her flushed face, heaving chest, and wet swollen lips. “My God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered.
She smiled and pulled back from his body, giving him room to move away from the door. He heard her laugh and followed her gaze to the flowers in a heap on her living room floor. “Oops,” he mumbled, and she leaned in and kissed him again.
“I’ll get a vase,” she said as she pulled away. His mouth followed hers and he kissed her one more time before she was out of his grasp, bending over and picking up the lilies.
He followed her into the kitchen and watched from the entranceway as she put the flowers in a vase, then he took them from her with a quick peck on the lips and put them on the dining room table. “Hungry?” she asked as she took the lid off the pot with the broccoli, steam surrounding her face.
“Starving,” he said, although he gladly would’ve given up food to kiss her some more.
“Good,” she said as she started putting food on two plates next to the stove. He watched as she carefully lifted the chicken out of a skillet, her tongue snaking out as she concentrated on not losing any of the melted feta cheese bulging out the side. “This was my grandmother’s recipe. It’s one of my favorites.”
“It looks incredible,” he said sincerely, pouring them each a glass of wine from the bottle on the counter and imagining them doing this together night after night for years to come.
She picked up the plates once she’d filled them and he followed her with the wine into the dining room. She put the plates on the table and started to sit down as Josh handed her a glass of wine. Their fingers brushed again on the glass and he whispered, “I’m gonna have to kiss you again now.”
She smiled at him. “Let’s try not to drop anything this time.”
**********
After dinner, they took the dishes into the kitchen and she washed them while he dried and helplessly tried putting them away as she laughed at him. She offered to let him wash, but he told her he was enjoying the fact that he could lean over and kiss her neck or cheek anytime he wanted to without her being able to fight him off because her hands were in dishwater. She shook her head but smiled, telling him dish water hands wouldn’t stop her from fighting if she wanted to, which she didn’t, and he smirked at her, which caused her to lean over and kiss him.
There was dish soap in his hair and on his tie when her cell phone rang a few minutes later. “My niece had her first piano recital tonight. She promised to call me with details. I should get that,” she mumbled against his lips.
He kissed her on the forehead and watched her walk into the living room while wiping her hands on a towel. She pulled her cell out of her purse and looked at the call screen. He watched her and smiled, shaking his head and thinking that things were damn near perfect. Then she answered the phone.
“Michael, hi.”