“I do, Mom. I am a grown man with a credit card. I think I can afford to buy you guys something nice.”
“I’m getting my hair done on Friday. Do you think I should get my nails done, too? One of my friends from church said I should get those acrylic nails but I really don’t want to.”
“Then don’t. Get a manicure if you want but you have nothing to prove to any of those people. Remember, you’re themotherof thepresident. You’re already the most important woman there. Even more important than the bride, quite honestly.”
She gets really quiet. “Please don’t leave us alone during the wedding, El. I’m so nervous. There will be so many important people there. Stella keeps bragging about who they’ve invited. I’m really scared of what people will say about us.”
This nearly breaks my heart and renews my anger at my sister. “Mom, Ipromiseyou, I’ll stick by you the whole time. So will Jordan and Leo. Except in the bathroom, obviously.”
Her laugh tells me my attempt to lighten her mood worked. “Thank you, honey. Well, I’ll let you go. We’ll see you on Saturday.”
“Yeah. Looking forward to it. Love you, Mom. Tell Dad I love him, too.”
“We love you, too. And I will.”
We end the call and I sit back and close my eyes for a moment. I never really stopped to think about what my chosen career would do to them. When I was a state-level politician, and even when I was a fairly anonymous House rep, it had little impact on their lives. Unless someone knew my parents, or followed Nebraska politics, they usually had no idea who I was until I was announced as Shae’s running mate.
Now Mom and Dad can’t even jump in their truck and run to town for ice cream after dinner without their Secret Service detail.
And what did it get me?
Not what I damn sure thought it would.
I just hope Stella is getting what she wants.
* * *
One of thebenefits of being POTUS is that withAir Force Oneat my disposal I can sleep in my own bed at the White House, fly somewhere within the continental United States the next morning, and then fly home that evening.
Schedule depending, of course. Not having to spend the night in a hotel is fricking amazing.
Obviously, if I have several days of meetings somewhere I don’t do that. But a turn-and-burn, or flying to an event that’s only a couple of hours long? Yeah, I don’t hang around. Because flight time forAngelis less expensive both in manpower and in literal dollars than all the advance and logistical arrangements to put me up somewhere overnight, and accommodate all the security detail and staff who have to travel with me, as well as transporting the Beast and even helicopters ahead of my arrival.
Not to mention it’s far less inconvenient on locals, and requires fewer law enforcement agency resources.
So that’s exactly what I’m doing today for Stella’s wedding—flying down and back, without any drawn-out good-byes, if I can avoid it. The event’s being held at a ritzy country club in West Palm Beach not far from an airport, meaning we can get into one of the several helicopters that are designated asMarine Onewhen I’m aboard, and fly to the venue instead of taking a motorcade. I’m not normally a fan of helos but in this case I’ll make an exception because what a hell of an entrance we’ll make.
Jordan flew out onAngelearly this morning to Nebraska to meet my parents and escort them back to DC.
I’ll hop over to Andrews onMarine OneonceAngelreturns, refuels, and is ready to depart for Florida. Jordan and my parents won’t even have to deplane here. Jordan took what he needed for himself with him and will change in the private suite on the plane. He pre-staged what I need to bring with me so all I have to do is shower and show up at the plane. He’ll help me dress on the way down, and I can change after the wedding and be more comfortable for the flight back.
I’m reading briefing materials in my private study in the West Wing Saturday morning after my PDB ends when there’s a knock on my door.
“Come.”
It opens, and there stands Leo.
For a moment I nearly forget myself. It’s been over a week since I’ve seen him in person. “Hey!”
He leans against the doorway and looks casually handsome in his jeans and a button-up. “May I come in,MisterPresident?”
Fuck, there goes my cock. “Of course.”
He saunters inside, closes the door behind him, turns, and quietly locks it. I didn’t bother changing out of my sweats this morning and I’m already sliding out of my chair and onto the floor before he turns back to me.
“There’s my good pet,” he whispers, leaning in for a kiss before taking my seat and letting me lean against his legs.
“I thought we weren’t seeing you until later tonight, Master?”
