Ryan looked her directly in the eyes. “There was a civil war that sparked a revolutionary war. The United States no longer exists.” He reached for Gaia’s hands when she gasped. “We are rebuilding a new nation with the land and resources our military controls. The rebels have their own holdings too.”
She felt nauseous. What in the hell could have happened during the years she’d lost to cause all this? Gaia had never been a political type, but she’d always been proud to be an American. It was a jagged pill to swallow knowing that her homeland no longer existed. She pulled her hands away from Ryan and planted them atop her overwhelmed head.
“It’s okay, baby. I’m here and that will never change.”
That vow shouldn’t have been comforting given that she didn’t remember him and barely knew him, yet it was. Ryan was her only lifeline in this sea of insanity—the only spark of familiarity she’d experienced to date. “So United Christian America is this new nation?”
“Yes.”
“And you are running to be—”
“—Her first president.”
Gaia’s hands dropped limply to her sides. “I see.”
“This must be a lot to take in all at once.” He put a muscled arm around her shoulder and pulled her into him. She offered him no resistance. “Let me be here for you, Gaia. I promise to do everything I can to make your homecoming as smooth as possible.”
She nodded, but said nothing. She allowed him to continue to hold her as she stared ahead unblinking. Ryan hit the button to the partition again, causing the window to drop away.
“Take the underground,” he said to the men in the front seat. “Let’s get off the main roads.”
“Yes, General Evans. Right away, sir.”
Gaia blinked. Her hazel eyes widened. “You’re a general?” she whispered.
Camera flashes went off, causing her heart rate to soar. Ryan pulled her in closer to him. “We’ll be off the main road in a few moments.” He gently kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry we came this route. You must feel like you’re on display.” The cameras continued clicking away. “We’ll be home soon.”
“One of us will,” Gaia murmured. “And one of us won’t even know where she sleeps.”
“She sleeps with me,” Ryan said softly, but firmly. “Only with me.”
Chapter Four
“Home” turned out to be the newly rebuilt White House. It was a bigger estate than its predecessor and somewhat gaudier. Gone was the quaint colonial manor and in its place was a white and gold marble mansion that looked like something a televangelist would live in. The new White House had a more dramatic, gothic appearance. At its apex sat a large gold cross with UCA flags guarding either side of the religious symbol. Gaia shook her head in disbelief.
By the time she was taken inside the mansion and shown into the sprawling presidential bedroom, she’d been bowed and curtsied to more times than she could count. She half-wondered if she was still in a coma at the hospital having a wicked, medically-induced hallucination. This was all too surreal to be happening. She didn’t like it—any of it—and she didn’t want it. What she wanted was to be alone. Ryan, unfortunately, had other plans.
“We need to talk,” he murmured, dismissing his security detail. James and Frank closed the bedroom’s double doors, but presumably stood just outside them. Ryan took off his cufflinks and threw them on a nearby end table. He removed his suit jacket and tie next, laid them over the back of a chair, and walked closer. Rolling up his sleeves, he took a seat at what was apparently the table they were to eat their meals at. “Please, Gaia, come have a seat.”
“I just want to be alone right now. Can we talk later?”
“Please,” he said, his gaze imploring her. “I know this is a lot and I promise to give you some alone time to decompress, but we need to talk first. Surely you must have some questions you want answered?”
She ran a frustrated hand through her mane of curls, but walked to the table. Sighing, she took a seat. “Look, Ryan, I know you mean well, but I’m going through too much to talk it all out right now.”
“Just talk,” he said. “Tell me how you’re feeling.”
“I’m feeling like I woke up in the wrong body! I’m feeling like I’m living someone else’s reality!”
“I understand.”
“No, Ryan, you don’t. You can’t! It isn’t possible.”
“I’m sorry. That was a poor choice of words.”
“You shouldn’t have to be sorry. You should have a wife who isn’t me—a woman who knows who she is.”
His jaw tensed. “Gaia—”
