I contemplate for a moment. “Then what about the name Sarah?”
“Why Sarah?”
“It means ‘princess.’”
The waltz comes to an end as I whisper against her ear, “Hayden Sarah Marshall. My divine princess.”
We stop moving but remain standing in each other’s arms. A small smile pulls at the corner of her lips. “I love it. And I’ll keep it.”
“Look at what the cat dragged in.” My spine stiffens at Mr. Loveless’s voice. Hayden’s hand moves to rest gently on my lower back, grounding me.
I turn around and nod. “Mr. Loveless. Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”
He chuckles. How can that menacing sound be considered a laugh? “Oh, I am swarmed with interviews, campaign stops, and events. But I could take one night off to attend a ball for such a… needy cause.”
Needy? That’s what raising awareness for foster care system reform and money for group homes means to him? Like he is a benefactor in aiding children he considers less than him? Though his words are innocent, it is his tone that implies the cause of this ball is a dirty plight of his existence.
My fists clench at my side. “Yes, well, I’m sure the parentless children will fall at your feet in gratitude over your presence and support here tonight.”
His eyes widen, as if he is actually considering my words. “You think so?” He taps a man beside him on the shoulder. “That is a good photo opportunity, actually. Jot that down.”
My stomach churns and blood boils at his selfish, narcissistic attitude. How could anyone in America vote for this cold-blooded reptile of a man?
Oh, yeah. Because he has the coveted “R” behind his name.
When will people learn Republican doesn’t equal conservative?
“How is marriage treating you?” Mr. Loveless bounces his eyes from me to Hayden, his lips pulling to one side. I want to sucker punch his face. He’s tried twice to disavow my marriage.
I grab my wife’s waist and tuck her into my side, kissing her on the cheek, and a genuine smile sweeps my face. “It’s the most wonderful thing to have happened to me.”
Hayden uses her index and middle fingers to finger-walk up my chest. She rests her palm against my cheek. “This man is the world’s best husband.”
Mr. Loveless chuckles. “World’s best, huh? I guess I better up my game.”
“Love isn’t a game,” I whisper under my breath. Hayden isn’t a game. She’s real and intelligent and beautiful and I love her.
And I really need to tell her what she means to me. Even if I stumble all over the words.
I swallow, and then at a normal volume, say, “My wife and I need to make our rounds.”
Mr. Loveless shakes my hand, pulls me toward him, and whispers loudly, “Yes, show off your Diversity Trophy.”
Hayden stiffens at my side.
Evil incarnate leans away and lets go of my hand.
I use that hand to punch him square in the nose.
“We’ll be lucky if he doesn’t sue us, Darcy. There’s no way we are getting out of this without the media twisting the event six different ways to Sunday!”
“Ow.”
Hayden loosens the pressure she’s applying to my own nose.
Turns out Mr. Loveless has a pretty mean right hook himself.
But I regret nothing.
