The crowds follow wherever President Hamilton goes. People want to see him, they want to see his first lady, they want to dote over his son, they want to pet Jack, and they want pictures—goodness, are the media covering us everywhere we go?
Matt is, as usual, a good sport with the press, but I get nervous when I’m walking with little Matty and reporters are snapping pictures and causing Stacey and the guys to work extra to push them all back.
Still, I love being out in the country, seeing the changing scenery. Deserts to forests, cities to small towns, farms and pasture to stoplights and highways. And the people—different and unique, everyone hoping for the glory to keep shining on the United States. Everyone trusting Matthew Hamilton to keep bringing it.
Today we’re in Philadelphia, and I get to introduce him to the people.
“Well, it really is such a pleasure to be here,” I say, breathless. “What an amazing crowd!” They all clap and cheer. “I know why you’re all here. It’s because my husband is quite charming and gives quite a good speech.” They laugh. “And also, because I know you know that Matthew Hamilton genuinely cares about you, about this country, about what’s right. I have witnessed firsthand his dedication, his effort, his complete devotion to this country, and if I weren’t already hopelessly in love with him, that would be enough to seal the deal for me right now.” More laughter. “The changes he’s put into effect these past few years . . . Millions of new jobs. Better education for our children, a more comprehensive healthcare plan, a thriving economy, and our outstanding free trade, which enables you, as Americans, to have any product for the best price available at your fingertip . . . this is only the beginning of the more extensive changes he’s been working to address . . . and I definitely hope you sit tight and listen to him share them with you tonight. So without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, I present my husband, Matthew Hamilton, the President of the United States!”
He takes the stage, leans into the microphone. “She’s better at this than I am.” He smirks, winking at me as I take a spot on the sidelines, and I laugh at the same time the crowd does.
“Thank you, Mrs. Hamilton,” he tells me with a nod as he takes in his doting crowd. “She’s right. It’s a great crowd today . . .”
“HAMMY! GO GET IT, HAMMY!” someone shouts.
“I will,” he promises, grinning, then falling sober.
“Today, I want to discuss something with you. Last night, I got word that I’m to be a father again. The first lady is expecting.” The smile on his face is absolutely dazzling, and so contagious there’s not a sad face in the house.
I feel giddy remembering when I told him—how he plucked his glasses off, then just grabbed me to him and swept me clean off the ground. “You make me so happy, so fucking happy,” and the rest was smothered with his kiss.
“So it’s something I want to talk to you about. Our children,” he continues—and pauses. “It is with our children that our greatest potential as a country lies. We are raising world-changers, leaders, girls and boys who can make a real difference. And it all begins with you. With me. With us.”
I feel Matty’s hand slip into mine, and he’s frowning—not too happy he’ll be dethroned soon. “You’ll still love me best?”
“I’ll love you as my best firstborn, yes,” I promise, and he nods and starts to get restless. “Sit here with me. Watch Dad,” I whisper, hushing him, clinging to Matt’s every word.
I just love for people to see him as I do, to know the real man, the one behind the fa?ade, the name, and the presidency.
The Matt Hamilton we all love.
I watch out the windows of Air Force One, the clouds beneath me looking like a carpet of cotton candy.
I lay my hand over my belly and think of Matt.
I’m so in love with him and I can’t believe I’m four months pregnant with our second child.
The debates are over, the campaigning has been exhaustive but inspiring, and now we’re heading back home.
Our little family of three, soon to be four.
I know from looking at my parents that no matter how strong the love, relationships are always tested. Boundaries are pushed, some promises broken, and disappointments happen. That’s just life. No road is ever perfectly smooth or straight.
But I also know from looking at my parents that love is a choice. Sometimes the hardest choice of all. And I know as I turn to look at Matthew, his profile showcasing perfect masculine beauty, his lips pursed thoughtfully as he looks quizzically at a stack of manila folders in front of him with his glasses perched on his nose, that I will always choose him.
A realization that comforts me.