But that’s the thing about women’s rights—I support women choosing their own path, free from judgment.
Stay-at-home mom, First Lady, physicist, mechanic—they’re all my people, and I hope to bringallwomen’s issues into the spotlight.
I stand in the back of the room as Jude addresses the group of people who worked on his campaign. Many of them are crying as he thanks them for their tireless work. Gratitude overwhelms me, and I’m near tears, too.
Tyson approaches and leans against the wall next to me.
“Congratulations,” I say, offering him my hand.
His handshake is weak, but his smile is broad. “Thanks. You too.”
“You’re coming to work for him now, right?”
He shrugs. “I will if he asks.”
“He’ll ask.”
Tyson’s smile fades. “I thought you might not want that.”
“I can’t think of anyone better. You’ve done a fantastic job. I mean, chief of staff’s a grind, but if you want it—”
“I do.”
I punch him playfully in the shoulder. “I’ll put in a good word.”
“Thanks, boss.”
“Seriously, Tyson, you came through in every way. I’m not sure he would have made it without you.”
Tyson’s cheeks redden. “Thanks.” After an awkward silence, he lowers his brows and says, “Are we gonna be friends now?”
I shrug. “I’m kinda used to our dynamic.”
“Me too.”
“Let’s keep ’em guessing.”
We share a brief laugh and then both focus on Jude.
“Reagan and I consider you more family than friends,” he says, his voice catching in his throat. “Thanks doesn’t seem like enough to say for all the months you guys devoted to the campaign. I’ll just say…” He clears his throat. “I promise I’ll do my best to make you proud.”
The interns in the front row start cheering, jumping up from their chairs and throwing their arms in the air. Jude’s gaze wanders across the crowd, and I know he’s looking for me.
I head for the front of the room, and as soon as Jude spots me, he opens his arms, wrapping one around me when I reach him.
“How ’bout an Al/Tipper kiss?” he asks in a low tone.
I laugh at his reference to the infamous, lengthy kiss from the 2000 presidential campaign, then nod. We’re not in front of the cameras here—it’s just our supporters.
He dips me like we’re dancing and then plants a long, deep kiss on my mouth, making everyone in the room hoot and holler.
When we stand up, he can’t seem to stop smiling at me. And I’m feeling the same way.
I never dreamed we’d end up here, but now, I can’t imagine being anywhere else.
28
Jude
