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“Looks like our evening just filled up.” She looks up at me, our noses almost touching. Her breath hitches and she looks away quickly, worrying her bottom lip. “I guess we need to be extra convincing now, huh?”

I smirk. “Really? How so?”

Her cheeks turn bright red as she stumbles over her words. “I mean, I just meant… Christopher saw us in Bennington’s office.”

I chuckle at her embarrassment, then sober at the realization. “Don’t worry about Christopher. I’m sure he didn’t think anything of our meeting with Richard. When Christopher gets married, he’ll probably sign a prenup as well.”

“Right. I forgot that he’s rich, too,” she mutters.

“How about we finish dinner first and then you can help me research Larry?”

She nods excitedly and scoops up some chicken fried rice.

Saturday rolls around and we haven’t found much useful info on Larry Highman throughout the week. All we know is that he owns an investment firm and some real estate, including a few apartment complexes in town. It’s hardly enough to build a campaign strategy with.

Today Odette and I are getting primped for a photoshoot for the Washington Journal. They’re doing an article on me since I’m the youngest person running for Congress this year. It should be great publicity, and it will give me new photos to use for my website.

The hair and make-up crew have taken over our apartment. There’s a make-up lady with something resembling a tool belt of brushes buckled around her waist, a hair guy, and another man who just seems to float around assisting where needed. They’ve seated Odette and I next to each other at the dining table, which I can’t even see anymore through all of the bottles and brushes covering it. Before today, I had no idea that this many hair and makeup products existed. I’m unsure why they even felt the need to cover Odette’s already perfect face with all of that… stuff.

I glance at Odette in the chair next to me, her eyes closed as the make-up lady smooths something across her eyelids. I assume that this photoshoot won’t be Odette’s favorite activity. When we’re at campaign events, she tends to carry herself very modestly and stay in the background, though for the life of me I can’t figure out why she hates being in the spotlight. A woman that beautiful should have every reason to feel confident. Instead, she seems to be wracked by self-consciousness.

Just as I’m about to ask if they’re almost finished, my sister’s face pops up on my phone, requesting FaceTime.

I slide the bar to answer. “Hey, sis!”

“Madden!” Sophie beams. “Is Odette there, too?”

“We’re both here!” I lean the phone to the right so she can see us both. Odette tries to smile at Sophie, but the make-up artist fusses at her to keep still. “Getting ready for some fancy photos. How was your appointment?”

“Amazing! Your little niece looks perfect and healthy!”

Odette squeals. “A baby girl! That’s so exciting! Congrats!”

“Mom is going to spoil her rotten, and so will all of her uncles,” I warn.

Sophie just laughs. “I know. It’s going to be ridiculous. Odette, will you tell Kate for me?”

“Of course. What was your husband’s reaction?”

“Sam is over the moon! This deployment has been especially difficult for him, so it was nice to give him some good news.” She smiles, but I see a touch of worry in her eyes. “Well, I have to let you go so I can tell the rest of the family!”

“Alright, love you.”

“Bye, Sophie!” Odette gives a little wave to the screen.

I hang up the phone. The make-up artist gives Odette a final dusting of something or other, sprays her hair with a can resembling bug spray (although I’m hoping that’s not what it is), then removes her cape.

The hair and makeup team quickly scurries about the room, packing away their make-shift beauty salon. The clean-up takes astronomically less time than set-up. Within a few minutes, they’ve gathered up their mess and headed out the door. I hardly notice, though. Everything happening in the background fades as my eyes drift over my wife.

I take in her beauty from her shiny red hair, plump red lips, white button-up shirt tucked into high-waisted black trousers, and pointy patent-leather pumps. Apparently, Odette in business casual makes me weak in the knees.

She blinks her luminous green eyes at me. “Do I look okay?”

“You look more than okay. You look amazing. Is this how you dressed for work in D.C.? How on earth did you stay single?”

Her face falls. I’ve hit a nerve, apparently. “Well, I… I think I was just too boring. No one I went on a date with bothered to ask me out a second time.” She shrugs like it's no big deal, but her eyes tell a different story.

“Those men were obviously out of their minds,” I scoff. “I’m lucky to have you as my wife.”