His question nearly drives me to tears. “Are you all right, ma’am?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m not. For all the reasons.But like I said, she’d kick my butt for not picking up and moving on.”
He sadly smiles. “Yeah, she would. I remember when I first sat down for drinks with her when she and Kev were together, and she got her big break at FNB…”
What started out as a gaggle becomes an informal wake for us. Everyone shares stories, laughs, and cries some more. I ask the flight attendants to bring a couple of bottlesof alcohol for the drinkers, and soda water for the non-drinkers.
I stand there with my shot glass of Fireball—Lauren’s favorite—held in the air, and everyone waits on me to speak.
“To Lauren,” I finally say. “Kick-ass friend, superhero press secretary, and beautiful, kind soul. May she know nothing but easy deadlines, typo-free copy, and eager sources willing to talk on deep background.” Thatprompts some tearful laughter and calls ofhere, hereandTo Laurenas we all take a drink.
I end up sitting in one of the press seats as we talk. I know phones and cameras are shut off, and even though we’re on the record, I’d be willing to bet none of this part of it ever makes it public, beyond a generic line or two about us all talking and remembering her fondly and toasting her memory.
“I hear Congressman Markos was running his mouth after the news broke she was murdered,” a reporter from theThe New York Timessays, his tone dark. “Damn jerk. She smacked him down good last week. That was the most epic burnever. I hope Angie doesn’t take any shit from him…”
We’re definitely off the record now, from the way they’re all talking.
We’re still sitting there and chatting when thecrew notifies me we’re going to be landing soon.
I stand and take a deep breath. “Off the record,” I say, just to clarify, and I wait a moment in case anyone is still recording.
Once I know I have all eyes on me, I continue. “Please give Angie a day or so to get her feet under her, okay? She was friends with Lauren, too. She’s worked with her for years, and this is as hard on her as it is onany of us. She’s heartbroken she couldn’t be here today, but she didn’t have doctor’s clearance to fly.”
They all know Angie was treated for a detached retina last week. Something about the pressure changes and flying could screw up the repair.
“When will she be moving into Lauren’s old office?” another asks.
I feel my breath hitch. “I’m going to wait for Kevin to decide that. We still haven’tpacked her things. We were waiting for the investigators to tell us it was okay, and he’s listed as her next of kin. Please, don’t ask him about that. We’ll let you know once she’s moved. Thank you.” Chris and I return to the suite, where the kids, Yasmine, and Elliot are already buckled in.
Chris kisses me before he takes his seat. “That was perfect, sweetie.”
Late that night, once we’re backat the White House and the kids are in bed, I walk down to the West Wing. It’s weird being…alone.
I bypass my office for Kev’s, where I go sit in the chair behind his desk, curling up there and closing my eyes, my arms wrapped around my knees and wishing he was here so I could comfort him.
After a little while, I circle around to Lauren’s office and take a deep breath before stepping inside.This place willnotbe the same without her.
Not in a good way, either.
I sit on the sofa and stare at her desk, at the drawings from Hudson, Myla, and Ivy tacked to her bulletin board.
The pictures on the bookshelf behind her desk, of her with her parents, of her and Kev, of her and the kids. In a way, we were her family, too.
How many hours did she and I spend in here together? I could alwayscount on her for pushback when I headed astray. Even if she disagreed with me, when I had a stated course, if I strayed from it she would steer me back, or prompt me to officially change course.
I’d even reached a point, although I’m not consciously sure when I did, where I could go weeks at a time without thinking about her being Kevin’s ex and how she knew his O-face the way I did.
My jealousyhad waned and faded, because I know where his loyalties lay.
I remember one night when they told me she was still here and working at eleven p.m. that I had the chef make a cheeseburger for her, the way she liked it, and I hand-delivered it to her.
Then we sat and talked for another hour.
She never asked me about Kev and Chris.Ever. I pretended like I didn’t know there was a lie in place.
In some ways, she was a younger sister to me. She was Kevin’s muse, his confidant.
“Shae?”
