Page 98 of This is a Kissing Book

I only hope that I’m not merely part of Linc’s footnote.

35

LINC

The Lincoln Memorial Museum is a marvel of modern innovation, paying homage to history built into the undercroft of the landmark structure. It includes exhibits, multimedia presentations, and displays, showcasing artifacts along with a timeline that charts every documented moment of Abraham Lincoln’s life.

Captivated, Jules traces information placards as if her mind connects dots I can’t even see yet, even though I know this history almost as well as my own.

She stops at a display about Lincoln’s time serving in the House of Representatives. “Check this out about the places Lincoln frequented while in Washington.”

I lean over her shoulder to read, catching the scent of whatever shampoo the hotel provided—spring rain and cherry blossoms.

I remind myself we’re here for history, not for me to notice how Jules is golden-hour gorgeous with her vintage-film eyes and warm campfire lips that threaten to turn me to liquid.

“‘Between 1847 and 1849, while Lincoln was representing Illinois, he had several places he liked to visit in the nation’s capital when he needed to think or write privately,’” she reads aloud. “There was an inn called the Eagle’s Nest where he sometimes stayed overnight, and an old private library where scholars say he did some of his most important researching and thinking.”

“Do you suppose that includes personal correspondence?”

Jules leans closer to read the placard containing artist renditions of the buildings. I have to step back before I do something stupid like brush a strand of hair behind her ear or whisper something to her that will make us pick up where we left off in front of the Civil War painting at the gallery during our almost-kiss. “Do you think either of these places still exists?”

I pull out my phone, excitement building like the final seconds of a power play. “Let me search … okay, here we go. A modern office building was built on top of the site of the inn, but the building’s basement level apparently contains remnants of the original structure, including what the owners used to call the Lincoln Quarters, preserved in his memory.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Her eyes light up like she’s just discovered a chest full of treasure. If you were to ask me, Jules is where X marks the spot.

“What’s the building now?” Lifting onto her toes, she peers over at my phone screen.

I continue reading, then groan. “Of course. It’s now a security systems company called Checkpoint Secure. We won’t be sneaking through the window, that’s for sure.”

“But we’ll need to get inside somehow.”

Lowering my voice, I turn to face her fully. “Exactly how do you propose we break into a security company’s building?”

Swishing her mouth from side to side, she considers this. “We don’t break in. We act like we belong there.”

I arch an eyebrow, already not loving this plan. “Genius, but last I checked, neither one of us has a security systems background unless you have a degree or certificate I don’t know about.”

Her confident expression falters. “We could go in disguise. Carry clipboards. Wear confidence like an official badge.” She grins simply, like she suggested we grab ice cream instead of committing what are probably several more felonies.

This woman is going to be the death of me—either from stress or from falling so hard that I forget to breathe.

“There is also the library to consider,” she says.

“And let’s not forget about the architect Taylor mentioned.”

When my college hockey team captain, Anselm Nerhäuser, met Taylor, it was love at first sight. It took her a while to come around, but they’ve been happily together for years. Not wanting to sound like a weirdo, I didn’t ask Taylor to keep my NHL career under wraps because that would’ve raised questions that had long answers. Thankfully, she didn’t mention anything. However, I was nervous the entire time to the point that I foolishly thought that maybe Jules was jealous at first, thinking Taylor was more than just my bro’s bride.

What has gotten into me? If I didn’t know better, I’d fear I’ve been body snatched or agreed to a role in a cringy teen movie. I can’t remember the last time I felt this way.

Maybe because I haven’t.

We continue to browse the displays outlining the life of the sixteenth US president. I have to hand it to the museum curators, they did an amazing job highlighting Lincoln’s life and achievements, along with celebrating the memorial building itself.

“Here it is. The chief architect for the memorial that Taylor mentioned is featured, too.” I point to the exhibit about the construction of the building.

We look up information on the man Taylor said was the mastermind behind this feat of architecture to learn that Amos Price, the architect of this building’s grandfather, did indeed replace the wooden Capitol dome with iron. Scrolling through, we also learn he was involved in cutting-edge—for the time—design, including glass structures.

“We need to find out more about him.”