Commander in Chief
Page 24
I stop there, letting the press corps take notes before I proceed, changing my tone to a more personal one.
“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’m telling you this, since Lola would have done just as good a job as I did, or even better.” I smirk, then pause.
“Starting today, I too will share something important to me,” I admit, cocking my head from one side of the room to the other, meeting their gazes. “The most important thing that has happened to me next to the death of my father, and being elected your president.”
Heads rise from their scribbles.
I know they can tell I’m talking about more than policy now.
I know these reporters, and they know me.
Some of them I grew up with. Some of them were with me in college. Some, even, I’ve known since my father was here.
Oh yes, they know me.
“I’m sure it may not be a surprise,” I say, clearly and succinctly, meeting their eyes as candidly as I can. “I am in love with the first lady of the United States. At the moment, a dozen vans from District florists are pulling up at the White House, and the staffers are helping me fill up her room. I’m going to ask her to marry me. Today.” I smile and lean closer to the microphone. “If you have any extra time, say a little prayer that she agrees.”
“Go get her, Mr. President!” someone yells.
“I will.” I grin.
I show them the ring from my pocket. “My father’s mother had two large diamond earrings, which she gave to my father. The first diamond, he gave to my mother. The other to me. I want it on her finger. I’ve measured and calculated, and I think I’ve got the size right.” The thought that I may not makes me frown as I look at the ring, then I shake my head as I tuck it away. “And don’t think I’m asking her because Jacobs said I needed a first lady—though it’s true I like the outfits she wears.”
The correspondents laugh.
I chuckle too, and lean into the mic again.
“I think she is marvelous. She is untouched by politics, unmarred and untainted. She is absolutely, brilliantly humble. Honest, hardworking. And it would be my honor that she accept to be my wife. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a country to govern and a woman to woo.”
“Which is the most difficult, President Hamilton?”
“The latter, for sure.” I grin again, then nod. “Good day, ladies and gentlemen.”
“When’s the wedding?”
“As soon as possible. Today if I have my way.”
22
ROSE GARDEN
Charlotte
The White House smells of roses. In fact, the East Wing of the White House where I usually work is filled with them. We got back a week ago and I don’t think I’ve ever watched so many staffers, one after the other, pile into the room with more and more flowers.
“What is this? Is there a state dinner somebody forgot to tell me about?” I ask, panicked.
Clarissa’s eyes go to the door, and Matt is there, lounging casually, looking at me.
I gulp.
Clarissa scurries out of the room, along with the rest of the staffers.
Intense emotion forces its way into his eyes. “Did you like my welcome home gift?”
“I didn’t leave home. I mean, I did, but I got home a week ago.”
“That’s right. You’re home for good. At least until my term is over. You’re home with me.”
He starts walking.
“Don’t, Matt.” I don’t know what’s happening, but I’m not sure I’ve ever seen that particularly fierce look in his eyes before.
“Then come here.” He pulls me close. “I love you. I love you and I want to marry you.” He inhales, kissing my jaw.
He slips something into his mouth and then takes my hand, lifts my finger to his mouth, and works a ring onto my finger with his tongue.
I gasp, my heart hammering. He licks the finger base to tip.
“Hmm. You taste good.”
“Matthew . . . the country—”
“They’re all holding their breaths, waiting to know if you said yes.”
“What? You’re crazy!”
“For you.”
I stare at him, stunned.
“They know, Charlotte; they’ve known for a long time how I feel about you. It’s nothing I’m ashamed of, nothing I can hide anymore—nor do I want you to.” He slips his hand over mine, and we watch our fingers link together. Mine and his.
“You are the man of my dreams, Matthew Hamilton,” I blurt out, still sort of reeling. A tear escapes.
“No more tears, not for me.”
“I’m just happy. I’m so happy. Did you mean it when you said everyone was waiting?”
“Everyone. It’s probably on TV by now.”
“What?” I turn on the TV.
“Our President Hamilton is proposing to the first lady and we’re waiting with bated breath to hear!”
Placards say I’LL MARRY YOU, HAMMY!
Others plead SAY YES!
I start to cry. All this time, I worried that I might not be good enough for him, that the public might not like the idea of me—and Matt just put all that to rest. Matt made them want me by his side merely because he told them truthfully that he wanted me there.
I cry because of the way they love him, because he has never really feared being himself with them, letting them see all of him, that he is not just the president but also human and a man, and I’m inspired again, and so in love I cannot stand it.
“Don’t just stand here! Don’t leave them all like that! They’re practically not breathing.”
“Baby, I’m practically not breathing.”
I look at him. “Summon Lola and tell her—do something—tell her to tell the press corps I said YES! How can I not say yes? Are you crazy?”
“I think we’ve already established that I am.”
Alison and Lola appear at the door. Suddenly everyone’s eyes are on me. I’m especially aware of Matt watching me, as if my reaction is crucial to solving some worldly problem.
I’m perplexed, once again wishing I knew what he was thinking as he turns back to Lola and Alison and smiles. “Look at the ring on Charlotte’s finger.”
Lola’s eyes widen in excitement.
Matt grins. “Take a shot, spread it out wide. It’ll speak more than a thousand words.”
“Charlotte!” Alison cries, and I walk over and we hug each other.
“Okay. Picture.” Alison realizes Matt—President Hamilton—is waiting and quickly steps back and takes an engagement shot of the two of us.
“Lola is going to be so busy,” I tell Matt, canting my head to meet his gaze.
“She’s always busy.”
“And you?” I can only imagine how hounded he’s going to be after this.
“I know someone who’s going to be even busier.” He flashes his wickedest smile at me as he crosses the room and lifts the phone. “Portia. Get the team ready. We have a wedding to plan.”
I duck my head as I try to wipe the lingering tears from the corners of my eyes. For sure my makeup is ruined. For sure you can even tell in the picture Alison took. But . . .
I wanted to make a difference, to find out my calling, to have a man to love. This is it. Unbelievably, this is it. A normal girl, with the most extraordinary love from the most extraordinary man.
I call my parents first. My mother is sort of speechless, and my dad takes the phone from her and tells me he’d talked to Matt before he proposed, but he hadn’t told my mother, that she’s shocked but they’re thrilled with the news and that they look forward to the wedding.
Then I call Kayla.
“I’ve been trying to contact you!”
“I was on the line with my mom and dad.”
“Charlotte, oh my god!” she says.
“I know, I know!” I say, giddy, looking at my engagement ring. It’s a pear-shaped diamond, with two trapezoid emeralds flanking its sides, and it’s so stunning I can barely look at it without feeling myself go breathless.
“You’re marrying the president of the United States,” she declares.
“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’m telling you this, since Lola would have done just as good a job as I did, or even better.” I smirk, then pause.
“Starting today, I too will share something important to me,” I admit, cocking my head from one side of the room to the other, meeting their gazes. “The most important thing that has happened to me next to the death of my father, and being elected your president.”
Heads rise from their scribbles.
I know they can tell I’m talking about more than policy now.
I know these reporters, and they know me.
Some of them I grew up with. Some of them were with me in college. Some, even, I’ve known since my father was here.
Oh yes, they know me.
“I’m sure it may not be a surprise,” I say, clearly and succinctly, meeting their eyes as candidly as I can. “I am in love with the first lady of the United States. At the moment, a dozen vans from District florists are pulling up at the White House, and the staffers are helping me fill up her room. I’m going to ask her to marry me. Today.” I smile and lean closer to the microphone. “If you have any extra time, say a little prayer that she agrees.”
“Go get her, Mr. President!” someone yells.
“I will.” I grin.
I show them the ring from my pocket. “My father’s mother had two large diamond earrings, which she gave to my father. The first diamond, he gave to my mother. The other to me. I want it on her finger. I’ve measured and calculated, and I think I’ve got the size right.” The thought that I may not makes me frown as I look at the ring, then I shake my head as I tuck it away. “And don’t think I’m asking her because Jacobs said I needed a first lady—though it’s true I like the outfits she wears.”
The correspondents laugh.
I chuckle too, and lean into the mic again.
“I think she is marvelous. She is untouched by politics, unmarred and untainted. She is absolutely, brilliantly humble. Honest, hardworking. And it would be my honor that she accept to be my wife. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a country to govern and a woman to woo.”
“Which is the most difficult, President Hamilton?”
“The latter, for sure.” I grin again, then nod. “Good day, ladies and gentlemen.”
“When’s the wedding?”
“As soon as possible. Today if I have my way.”
22
ROSE GARDEN
Charlotte
The White House smells of roses. In fact, the East Wing of the White House where I usually work is filled with them. We got back a week ago and I don’t think I’ve ever watched so many staffers, one after the other, pile into the room with more and more flowers.
“What is this? Is there a state dinner somebody forgot to tell me about?” I ask, panicked.
Clarissa’s eyes go to the door, and Matt is there, lounging casually, looking at me.
I gulp.
Clarissa scurries out of the room, along with the rest of the staffers.
Intense emotion forces its way into his eyes. “Did you like my welcome home gift?”
“I didn’t leave home. I mean, I did, but I got home a week ago.”
“That’s right. You’re home for good. At least until my term is over. You’re home with me.”
He starts walking.
“Don’t, Matt.” I don’t know what’s happening, but I’m not sure I’ve ever seen that particularly fierce look in his eyes before.
“Then come here.” He pulls me close. “I love you. I love you and I want to marry you.” He inhales, kissing my jaw.
He slips something into his mouth and then takes my hand, lifts my finger to his mouth, and works a ring onto my finger with his tongue.
I gasp, my heart hammering. He licks the finger base to tip.
“Hmm. You taste good.”
“Matthew . . . the country—”
“They’re all holding their breaths, waiting to know if you said yes.”
“What? You’re crazy!”
“For you.”
I stare at him, stunned.
“They know, Charlotte; they’ve known for a long time how I feel about you. It’s nothing I’m ashamed of, nothing I can hide anymore—nor do I want you to.” He slips his hand over mine, and we watch our fingers link together. Mine and his.
“You are the man of my dreams, Matthew Hamilton,” I blurt out, still sort of reeling. A tear escapes.
“No more tears, not for me.”
“I’m just happy. I’m so happy. Did you mean it when you said everyone was waiting?”
“Everyone. It’s probably on TV by now.”
“What?” I turn on the TV.
“Our President Hamilton is proposing to the first lady and we’re waiting with bated breath to hear!”
Placards say I’LL MARRY YOU, HAMMY!
Others plead SAY YES!
I start to cry. All this time, I worried that I might not be good enough for him, that the public might not like the idea of me—and Matt just put all that to rest. Matt made them want me by his side merely because he told them truthfully that he wanted me there.
I cry because of the way they love him, because he has never really feared being himself with them, letting them see all of him, that he is not just the president but also human and a man, and I’m inspired again, and so in love I cannot stand it.
“Don’t just stand here! Don’t leave them all like that! They’re practically not breathing.”
“Baby, I’m practically not breathing.”
I look at him. “Summon Lola and tell her—do something—tell her to tell the press corps I said YES! How can I not say yes? Are you crazy?”
“I think we’ve already established that I am.”
Alison and Lola appear at the door. Suddenly everyone’s eyes are on me. I’m especially aware of Matt watching me, as if my reaction is crucial to solving some worldly problem.
I’m perplexed, once again wishing I knew what he was thinking as he turns back to Lola and Alison and smiles. “Look at the ring on Charlotte’s finger.”
Lola’s eyes widen in excitement.
Matt grins. “Take a shot, spread it out wide. It’ll speak more than a thousand words.”
“Charlotte!” Alison cries, and I walk over and we hug each other.
“Okay. Picture.” Alison realizes Matt—President Hamilton—is waiting and quickly steps back and takes an engagement shot of the two of us.
“Lola is going to be so busy,” I tell Matt, canting my head to meet his gaze.
“She’s always busy.”
“And you?” I can only imagine how hounded he’s going to be after this.
“I know someone who’s going to be even busier.” He flashes his wickedest smile at me as he crosses the room and lifts the phone. “Portia. Get the team ready. We have a wedding to plan.”
I duck my head as I try to wipe the lingering tears from the corners of my eyes. For sure my makeup is ruined. For sure you can even tell in the picture Alison took. But . . .
I wanted to make a difference, to find out my calling, to have a man to love. This is it. Unbelievably, this is it. A normal girl, with the most extraordinary love from the most extraordinary man.
I call my parents first. My mother is sort of speechless, and my dad takes the phone from her and tells me he’d talked to Matt before he proposed, but he hadn’t told my mother, that she’s shocked but they’re thrilled with the news and that they look forward to the wedding.
Then I call Kayla.
“I’ve been trying to contact you!”
“I was on the line with my mom and dad.”
“Charlotte, oh my god!” she says.
“I know, I know!” I say, giddy, looking at my engagement ring. It’s a pear-shaped diamond, with two trapezoid emeralds flanking its sides, and it’s so stunning I can barely look at it without feeling myself go breathless.
“You’re marrying the president of the United States,” she declares.
