Their love story was famous in D.C. and I’d grown up listening to it, hoping that one day I’d have something like it for myself.
“And you, my dear, are ignoring the point,” my grandmother said, cutting through my bullshit easily as she reached across the table and cupped my face in her warm hands. “I want so much more for you than all of this, sweetheart. This life, all of this craziness, it’s eating away at you.”
“I’m fine,” I told her, gently pulling my face away from her, my mood immediately dipping.
“You arenotfine, Lennon,” she said more firmly this time, frowning. “Look at you. You’ve lost weight, you’ve got stitches in your forehead, and you look miserable. That is so far from fine.”
I said nothing, knowing she was right.
She sighed.
“Maybe we’ve put too much on your shoulders. You’ve always been so strong, but with everything that’s happened with you and Carter these past few years…”
“I wanted to do it,” I told her with a vehemence that seemed to surprise both of us. “I wanted to be helpful to you and Grandpa, and Mom and Carter too. I can’t do much, but I can do things like give speeches and go to events.”
My grandmother’s smile was weak as she nodded once before giving my hand a pat. “Drink your tea then. I plan to fatten you up before this weekend is over and give you some flirting tips for those cute alphas.”
I groaned. “Grandma, it’s against the rules to flirt with my security team.”
“What? Like you aren’t the first person to do it?” she said pertly, one brow rising. “Why your mother, when she was a teenager, she was obsessed with one of her agents and you should have seen the scrapbook page she put together—”
“Mom.” My mother’s dry voice came from the entrance of the kitchen making the both of us jump. “Are you seriously airing out my business right now?”
She was dressed in what she considered ‘business comfortable’, which was a pair of linen pants and a crisp white blouse that was so bright that it almost hurt to look at.
“Me?” my grandmother said innocently, placing a dramatic hand on her chest. “Never, Thenie, I’m a vault of secrecy.”
My mother rolled her gray eyes. “You and the word secret should never be in the same sentence, Mom.”
Then she turned to me. “Your dog is arriving from the White House. What do you say we pick her up from the car and then go for a walk with Grandpa?”
I jumped up, excited to see Ginny again after so long.
“No election talk!” my grandmother called after us. “This is supposed to be a vacation. A vacation I tell you!”
“Arizona seems like a shoe-in based on polling numbers,” my grandfather said as we strolled along the property line of Camp David together. It had taken them all of three minutes to break my grandmother’s rule about talking about the election, but I didn’t mind because of the wriggling puppy dancing around my feet.
In the nearly two months since I’d seen her, Ginny seemed to have almost doubled in size, growing into her ears and paws as she looked more and more like a dog than a puppy now.
“Heel,” I told her, watching with satisfaction as she dutifully plopped down next to my feet and looked at me for my next directive.
“Those puppy training lessons really paid off, didn’t they, mamas?” I told her and watched her wiggle happily.
“I don’t like putting all of my eggs in one basket, Dad, you know that. Plus I’m still worried about Michigan and Nevada,” my mother replied, oblivious to me as the rest of our entourage followed behind.
When we were inside of the lodge at Camp David, we could wander around unencumbered by security, but when the president, former vice-president, and the president’s daughter go for a walk then the cavalry comes right along too.
Which included my own personal cavalry.
All four of my security team were trailing behind me with matching blank expressions—the same ones they’d worn from the moment we’d rolled through the wrought iron gates and onto Camp David’s property.
Gone were the slightly silly, very sarcastic alphas who I was able to get under the skin of and in their place was a set of G.I. Joes.
I kept telling myself it was because we were so close to my mother and they had to be professional… but even I had to admit that I missed the closeness that I’d felt that night before the car accident. The same car accident where Maverick had wrapped me in his arms and I’d come to an unsettling conclusion that I wasn’t ready to verbalize yet—not even in my own thoughts.
“Are you listening, Lennie?” my mother asked, cutting through my trailing thoughts like a knife.
“No,” I told her honestly. “And didn’t Grandma say you aren’t supposed to be working?”
