The Perfect Neighbors by Sarah Pekkanen

while,” Joe said. “Look on the bright side, if I lose the primary he’ll be gone even sooner.”
    â€œWe’ll have to ask the kids,” Gigi said.
    â€œC’mon, you know Melanie’s going to freak out,” Joe said. “She blows up when we tell her we’re out of cereal. We can’t present this as her choice. We either decide to do it and tell her, or we don’t do it at all.”
    â€œOkay,” Gigi said. “What if we don’t do it at all?”
    Joe exhaled. He looked exhausted. His eyes were red-rimmed, and the skin beneath them sagged, Gigi saw as her heart softened. He was juggling two jobs now, since he was still working full-time for the environmental company, and the strain was showing. It was only going to get worse in the coming months.
    â€œHe’s good, Gigi. There are a lot of races around the country. He could leave tomorrow and join another one,” Joe said. “I feel like I could actually win this thing. People are starting to recognize me.”
    â€œSo how long are we talking, exactly?” Gigi said.
    â€œJust through the general election, max,” Joe said.
    A few months, then. Definitely worth more than a pint of ice cream.
    â€œFine,” she said. “But you have to be the one to tell Melanie.”
    Joe jumped up and came over to stand behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Thank you,” he whispered in her ear. He began to knead her shoulders, his thumbs seeking out knots of tension and digging into them. Joe could have another career as a masseuse; the man gave world-class back rubs. That reason alone could have cemented her decision to marry him.
    â€œWe’re going to be on the road a lot,” Joe said. “He just needs a place to crash at night. If I get elected I’ll have a salary for staff and then he can afford an apartment, but for now . . .”
    â€œI know, I know,” Gigi said. She tilted back her head and let it rest against his chest as Joe’s touch became lighter and his fingers came around to her front, grazing the tops of her breasts. Her breaths grew more shallow.
    â€œJoe,” she said.
    â€œMmm?”
    â€œIs this what you expected?” she asked. “The campaign, I mean?”
    His hands paused. “Some of the time,” he said. “I don’t know . . .”
    â€œWhat?” she prompted.
    â€œThe other night I was door-to-door canvassing and this guy invited me in and I got stuck talking to him for half an hour,” Joe said. “I couldn’t figure out how to get the hell out of his house. And he was nuts. He kept telling me everything that was wrong with the government, and he made no sense, and whenever I tried to respond, he just talked over me. I finally started edging toward the door and escaped, but the whole time I’m thinking, I’m missing a night with my family for this shit? But I had to be polite. If I’d met that guy at a cocktail party a year ago, I would’ve blown him off after two seconds. But I can’t do that anymore. I have to be more careful about offending people.”
    Gigi nodded. “You know what I think it’s like?” she said. “Having a baby.”
    â€œMy congressional campaign is our third child?” Joe asked.
    â€œThe expectations get too idealized,” Gigi explained. “It’s like when you’re pregnant for the first time. You pick out the cute outfits and you make a birth plan and you imagine this snuggly infant sleeping on your chest. You don’t think about the fourteen diaper changes a day and the sleep deprivation and all that other crap.”
    â€œYeah,” Joe said. “Exactly. I kept thinking about being in the Capitol and casting an important vote. I didn’t expect to spend hours talking to people who think Obama is an illegal immigrant. The other day I had to explain the concept of global warming to