I’m ripping it. The pride, anticipation, and adrenaline coursing through my veins already, my intention, desire, and determination to keep my seat and continue serving fueling my every word.
“I must admit”—I look at everyone in the press room—“being president is a tough job. Sleepless nights, tough calls, even looking at your faces every day,” I say, mocking the press a bit over their complete obsession with me and my wife. “Man. It’s not a job to be taken lightly.” I whistle, shaking my head as they laugh. “I’ve known that since my father took office. It took a toll on our family. I’ve tried to let it take the least possible toll on mine. Because, you see . . .”
I pause, meeting reporters eye to eye.
“If I don’t build a better tomorrow for this family I love so much—for this country I love so much—then who will? If I don’t ensure and fight for their safety, their rights, who will? If I deny my citizens my every effort, I deny my family, too. I do not want to fail any of you. This tough job has taught me how to be tougher, how to be smarter, and how to be a diplomat, but it never becomes easier. Then again, I wouldn’t want easy. Where’s the fun in that?”
This is met with laughs.
“Thank you for these four years. For your belief in me. If you will allow it, and the citizenship wishes it—let’s make it eight. I am formally announcing my intention”—my eyes meet Charlotte’s, and I fucking want to kiss the smile she wears right now—“to run for reelection, and continue to be honored as the president of the United States of America.”
43
CAMPAIGNING
Matt
The crowd is chanting my name as we drive into the first rally in Philadelphia.
“You get the best crowds I’ve ever fucking seen,” Carlisle says. I scan the crowd, wishing she could see it. That always got her excited. Charlotte stayed back at the hotel with Matthew Jr., both of them sleeping in this morning.
“Here we are, sixty percent female, forty percent male. The majority here to see your pretty face. Even married, you have a way with the ladies,” Wilson taunts.
My lips twist into a wry smile. “A vote is a vote.”
He laughs. “Yeah, I know it bugs the hell out of you—no offense, Mr. President. And don’t worry, every president leaves looking haggard as fuck; your beauty will lessen with four more years. If you still draw crowds by now, then it means you did something good.”
“Wilson, I’m on a schedule here.” I point for him to stop the car.
“Right.”
“Hey, do me a favor,” I lean into the car as I get out, “check in on Charlotte later. Oh, and tell her Jack hasn’t been fed.”
“Go about your busy day. I got it.”
I step out with Carlisle and Hessler, the rest of the Secret Service piling up behind me as discreetly as possible—some of them disguised as civilians—as we head to the podium and the waiting crowd.
44
THANKS FOR CAMPAIGNING
Charlotte
I’m watching him speak at the rally for Florida small business owners, and for a second, he looks only at me.
“. . . because not only our aim, but our duty, is to strengthen our country for those who haven’t been born yet. And for those we love.”
My breath dies, and he slides his eyes away and looks at the members of his team with half a smirk and half a smile.
Nobody notices, though, the looks we share. They have no idea of the real connection we have—that this man is a part of me. Husband and wife, they know what we are, but I’m not sure anyone has a true idea of what he means to me, or what I know that I am to him.
The men are scribbling notes using pens with Matt’s campaign logo, and then they’re all standing as he rises to leave and starts shaking hands, thanking them. I’m surprised that so many of the male team members approach me to say goodbye as well.
Matt steps to my side as we head out of the room.
“I’d better give you the floor right now,” he says, reaching out and sliding his thumb down my jaw. I laugh as we exit the building, but his gaze is still with me as we ride back to the hotel.
We’re supposed to freshen up and attend a fundraiser later in the day, and I decide I’ll change my heels for flats because my feet are killing me, but I am not missing it for the world.
“My first lady is quite a crowd draw,” he says, lifting his hand to grab me by the back of the neck and kiss me. He eases back, leaving me breathless. My husband. He’s smiling. He’s teasing me, of course, but he has this proud look as if to say I knew I made the right choice.
“You, on the other hand, you were awful just now. I think your team wants to kick you off the campaign, Mr. President.” I shake my head teasingly. “You’re four years older, no longer the young, fresh bachelor you used to be.”
His eyes start dancing. “You’ve aged me, baby, what can I say.”