Then Ciro’s off and running. Literally and metaphorically.
Meanwhile, I continue conducting the people’s business in the White House. Jordan and Casey-Marie quietly work with Ily on buffing Ciro’s portfolio and responsibilities to give him a more impressive CV to tout once he’ll go head-to-head with whoever ends up surviving the GOP free-for-all that will begin in earnest, now that they know Ciro’s the guy to beat.
My sister remains incommunicado.
Yay?
Again, I hate to think and feel like that but I’m done trying to force her to love me. It’ll never happen.
Through Christmas and New Year’s, our life goes on. We have a great time with our family over the holidays and Leo has really come into his own as First Spouse for the various public events.
No Stella.
Shouldn’t it be sad that she’s not even missed? Unfortunately, it’s not.
Life goes on.
Leo and I celebrate our one-year wedding anniversary at home in the White House, just the three of us, and we take a three-day weekend to travel to Camp David with as few staff as possible.
More calendar pages turn. I deal with idiots in both parties, idiots from foreign countries, natural disasters, and our party’s grip on power survives the midterm elections. Some losses, some gains, for an overall net loss of one seat in the House and a net gain of one seat in the Senate.
Not bad at all. I’m happy, because our majority is still preserved across the board.
Even better?
Ellis didn’t run.
It also means when Chief Justice Lise Pritchard has a severe stroke in December and tenders her resignation, I don’t face a massive dogfight to get a new SCOTUS justice confirmed.
Before I know it, Leo and I are celebrating our second wedding anniversary. And not so much as a quote in a newspaper story from my sister about that joyous occasion.
I’d be concerned about what Stella might be up to if I wasn’t so busy that I don’t have time to think about her, much less worry.
Belyaevskin hasn’t popped up yet and I admit there’s a damned good chance he is dead. He’s still on every law enforcement and customs agency’s list as a person of interest, but he’s dropped from being a priority target to incidentally important. There are more pressing matters to spend time, money, and valuable human resources on than one man who technically hasn’t committed any crimes that we’re aware of.
As our third wedding anniversary approaches, I feel the increasing tug of impending freedom dragging me closer to the finish line with every morning I wake up and tick another day off my mental calendar.
Less than a year until absolute freedom awaits us. We’ve been damned careful, too. Not even any close calls, so far. Which makes Jordan more careful about us, to a frustrating degree.
Three weeks after our third anniversary, I have a completely unexpected mental meltdown one Friday evening when I realize Jordan’s packed and heading out somewhere for a couple of days and I have no idea where. I didn’t even know he was going anywhere.
We’re up in the residence. After Jordan kisses Leo good-bye he walks over and kisses me. “Love you, boy. I’ll be back late Sunday. Be good and obey Master.”
“Wait.” I grab his wrist. “Where are you going?”
When his gaze cuts behind me to where Leo’s standing, Jordan obviously looking for a judgment call from him, I shift between them to block Jordan’s view.
“No. Where thefuckare you going?” I know it’s not work-related because he’s dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and I can tell from the carryon bag slung over his shoulder that he’s not taking a suit with him. “And why am I justnowfinding out about this?”
Theyneverdon’t tell me in advance when Jordan has to travel without me because they both know it fucks my head if my usual routine is interrupted due to Jordan’s absence. Ineedadvance notice to not be caught off-guard by it.
Ironically, it never bothers me when Leo travels without me. Maybe because I spent so many years apart from him.
Or, maybe because Jordan is truly my right hand. Not to mention, as Leo has always teased me, I’m an extremely territorial pet.
“It’s all right, pet.” Leo walks up behind me and grabs my arm, forcing me to release Jordan’s wrist. “Jordan, go. You’re going to miss your flight.”
Jordan turns and heads out of the living room. When I take a step after him, Leo reels me back in. “No, pet.”
