JUNE 11, 2001
WASHINGTON, DC
The night of the gala had finally arrived. As I stood in my bedroom, looking at my reflection, I couldn’t help but smile into the mirror. My dress was new, a rare splurge for such a special night. Most of Washington’s elite would be attending the event, with six hundred invitations accepted by politicians, entertainers, business owners, and patrons of the arts. It was a black-tie affair, which meant I needed a new gown.
I tried to remind myself that I had agreed to this event because I wanted to talk to Seth about my dad’s project, but my excitement made it difficult to remember.
Delilah entered my room with a couple of bobby pins to secure the loose curls that had escaped my updo. “You look nervous,” she said as she attacked my scalp with a pin.
“Ow.” I took the pin from her to do it myself. “I am a little nervous. This is an important event.”
“Because President Bush will be there ...or because Seth will be?”
“Both—but it’s excited nerves, mostly.” I secured my hair,happy with the style. My gown was an A-line, scoop-neck ensemble with a white satin skirt and a black lace top. The sleeves went down to my elbows, and the same lace lined the hem. I paired it with black heels.
“You look stunning,” Delilah assured me.
The doorbell rang, and I grabbed my black satin clutch. “I’ll meet him downstairs.”
“I won’t get to see him in his tuxedo?” Delilah made a face. “I was looking forward to it all week.”
I smiled. “Maybe when we come home. But don’t wait up for me. I don’t know how late we’ll be.”
“Have fun.”
It was a warm evening, so I didn’t grab a wrap. Instead, I pressed the speaker and told Seth I’d be down in a minute. When I finally arrived on the main floor, a little out of breath, I opened the front door and found him waiting on the stoop.
He turned at the sound and simply stared at me.
“Meg.” He shook his head. “You’re gorgeous.”
“Thank you.” I closed the door behind me, trying to calm my pulse.
Seth came up to me and paused before leaning forward to place a kiss on my cheek.
My breath stilled. He smelled amazing and looked even better in his tuxedo and bow tie. It was the same thing he had worn the night I met him at the White House, but I hadn’t been nearly as interested in him then.
“Ready?” he asked, offering me his elbow.
“I think so.”
He drove me to a parking garage near Ford’s Theatre while the sun began to set in the west. We walked to the theater talking about some of the mundane events that had filled our life since the last time we’d been together. He told me of his work at the Capitol, and I told him about my rounds. I’d been working in pediatric emergency and loved every minute of it.
As we drew closer to Ford’s Theatre, the commotion on Tenth Street increased. A red carpet had been rolled out on the sidewalk, and several reporters were camped out near the doors as guests arrived. I recognized several politicians, many of whom fought publicly but were laughing and slapping each other’s backs now.
“This is one of the more popular bipartisan events in Washington,” Seth said, following my line of sight. “Or so I’ve been told.”
“Thank you for bringing me.”
He looked down at me and smiled. “Thanks for coming. I’ve been looking forward to this night all month.”
I wanted to tell him that I had been too, but I didn’t want to encourage him. I was having a hard time not encouraging myself. In this moment, with the warm air, the fancy clothes, and the handsomest man in the crowd by my side, I could almost pretend like this was it—this was my life. The one and only.
“Congressman Wallace,” one of the reporters called as we approached the theater. “Who is your date this evening?”
“Don’t you know Margaret Clarke?” Seth asked with an incredulous look, though I knew he was teasing. “She’s the youngest medical student at Georgetown University’s School of Medicine. Daughter of retired General Jonathan Clarke and President Bush’s social secretary, Peggy Clarke.”
The reporter lifted an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “Can I get your picture?”
