The Last to Know
The Last to Know

Jane Harper

Rating: R
Synopsis: It's the night of The Portland Trip and Leo is on his way home.
Archive: Sure, html can be swiped from my site.
Disclaimer: It's Aaron's world, I'm just hiding in the steamer trunk.

Margaret called me at work that day as soon as he got in.

"Sarah, you really need to be at the condo tonight when he gets home."

"Why? What's up, girlfriend?"

"The papers came today."

"Which papers?" I thought for a minute. "Oh those papers. OK."

"You think he'll drink over it?"

"Nah. You won't let him there, and I won't let him at home, and his driver knows it's worth her life to stop in between." I laughed. Nervously. "Catherine's a good girl."

"OK. I'm still worried though."

"I know. Let's have lunch and worry together, OK?"

"OK. I'll call you when I can get away."

"Sure, I've got nothing scheduled, thank heaven. I can always tell when the Vice President is out of town."

She chuckled. "I can relate. See you later."

Just as I hung up the phone my PC beeped. Email. Six of 'em. All some variation on "Leo will need you tonight, his divorce papers arrived."

Why the hell do I have to be the last to know, again?

I decided to give his picture on my desk a lecture it'd never forget.

How is it you don't call me, Leo? Huh? I know, you're a busy guy, running the country and all that but Jesus H. Christ on a crutch, it takes three seconds to call. Send an email. Send a White House messenger, for crying out loud! Send up a smoke signal! Send a fax! Yell out the window, I'm right across the street!

But nooooooooooo!! Mister I-Don't-Need-Anybody. Sir I'm-the-Man-and-I-Can-Handle-It. Take-Care-of-Everybody-Else-First, Esquire. Don't you get it? I love you, you jackass! Can't say it, can't actually tell ya, you might feel beholden to say things you don't mean. But yeah, I can put my brain around that word. Been fighting it since the night you threw me over your shoulder and carried me off to bed. Yeah, I'm one of _those_ women. As if you don't know.

So how is it you didn't tell me yet??? Huh??


OK, decision time. Do I let him know that I know?

Nah.

I've got a key. I'll just be there when he gets home. At heaven knows what hour. I'll get Margaret to call me when he leaves.

It was after midnight when Sarah heard the key in the door.

"Hey, Toots! You here? I saw the light on."

"Nope, it's a cat burglar."

"Take the damn cat. I don't care," he said with a smirk.

"You lie like a rug, McGarry!" She threw a sofa pillow at him.

He took off his overcoat and suitcoat and loosened his tie, then came over to kiss her hello. "I guess you heard."

"Yeah, thanks for the heads-up."

"I knew Margaret would call you. Honest, I would have done it myself but this was the day from hell." He headed for the kitchen and a glass of milk.

"Did you sign 'em?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"You OK?"

Scowling, he looked right through her. "Please don't start. No, I'm not gonna drink over it. Not unless people keep asking me that."

"Hey, I'm not taking your inventory." She rolled over to where he stood and took his free hand in hers. "I'm just here."

"I know." He drained the glass, rinsed it, and put it in the dishwasher. "Hey, this is Friday."

"Very good, Leo. Tomorrow we'll work on our colors." She grinned.

"It's Shabbat. You're here. You drove. You feeling OK?"

"Yes to all of the above and I'm fine, Irish."

"How can you …?" His eyebrows asked the question.

"Shabbat was made for us, not we for Shabbat." She grinned.

He laughed. "Oy, have you got the wrong book!"

"He had a point. He was a nice Jewish boy, he thought his mother was a virgin, and Mom thought he was god!"

"Well he did go to a lot of trouble so his mom could say, 'my son, the doctor'."

As the laughter faded she put her arm around his waist. "C'mon, Irish, let's go to bed."

"You always say the right thing to make me feel better." He kissed the top of her head and sauntered down the hallway.

"You gotta go in tomorrow?" she asked as he draped his suit over the hardwood valet.

"Nah. I thought we might go do something. A movie maybe. How does that sound?"

The reply had to wait until she had gargled and spit. "You always ask me questions when I can't answer," she laughed. "And it's Shabbat, so I'd just as soon stay home, if that's OK with you. We get so little time just to be homebodies together."

He grinned. "I think I could handle that. We could stay in bed all day."

"I dunno, you up to it? You wanna watch the game instead?" she giggled.

"That sounds dangerously like a dare."

"If that's how you want to take it—" She moved from her chair onto the bed and lay down facing him, next to where he was sitting up against the headboard.

He smirked and slid down next to her, pulling her in for a kiss. As his lips wandered from hers down her neck to leave a trail of fire and ice behind them, he murmured, "I'm so glad you're here. I need you right now."

"I know," she replied between moans. Slowly but firmly she pushed him back until she was leaning over him, trailing her lips over his ears and neck, her fingertips over his chest and belly. "Lie back," she whispered. "I want to show you just how much I cherish you, what a fool anyone is who would give you up."

He shook with what sounded like a single sob and started to turn away, but she would not let him. "Don't go there," she pleaded. "Come with me instead," and she began to ravish him with a passion she usually held in check. With every inch of her body she explored every inch of his, smiling when a caress would bring a deep moan from the back of his throat.

They had not been together long enough for everything to become familiar, for a routine to settle in and novelty to die. She spent an hour learning more of what pleased him, finding spots she didn't yet know about where just the right kind of touch elicited excitement, refusing every attempt he made to pleasure her in return. She was determined that tonight he would feel loved, without the word ever having been exchanged between them.

And when she was finished he was so totally relaxed he could not keep his eyes from closing. "I'm sorry…" he whispered as he drifted off.

"Shh," she responded with a tired smile. "You can make it up to me later." And as his breathing fell into a soft and regular rhythm, she lay awake, watching her beloved sleep, mesmerized by this strong, gentle, complicated and wounded man. She reached out to touch his face: he stirred slightly and murmured.

"Hush," she whispered. "It's OK. There's nothing you have to do, nothing to worry about. I'm here. I won't let anyone hurt you like this ever again."