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With a deep sigh, I rest my hands on my hips. “I’m not doing your grunt work, Christopher. Sarah is an extremely competent paralegal. You can leave these with her.”

Richard Bennington himself suddenly pops his head into my office. Just in time. “What are you guys still doing here? Go home!” He smiles, then notices the large stack of files. “What are those?”

My eyes shift to Christopher. Judging by the vacant smile on his face, he knows he's been caught in his obnoxious attempt to make me do busywork.

“Well, Christopher was just telling me I should take care of these before I leave.”

Richard’s head whips around to look at Christopher. “Being a partner doesn’t mean you can force Madden to do your paperwork. Take those to Sarah. And I’ll see you both on Monday.”

Richard walks away just before Christopher sends me a death glare and dramatically scoops up his files. As he leaves, I walk across the room and close the door, grab a casual polo shirt from my briefcase, and change out of my dress shirt and tie. Tucking in my polo, I take a quick glance at the small mirror on my office wall and give myself an internal pep talk.

Okay, Madden, time to go on another date. I know this is the 12th date in two months, but It’s only for one hour. Then you can duck out early to speak at your high school reunion.

With a groan, I leave the office and drive to the restaurant.

As I park my car at the Italian restaurant my date chose, I spot a young woman by the entrance, watching me. I’ve never met Heidi before, but the moment I spot her I know she’s my date. She looks exactly like every other woman from my dad’s list: skinny, blonde, obvious breast implants, a designer handbag, and four-inch-heels.

A week after speaking to my parents about my marriage dilemma, Dad gave me a list of women with a marriage clause in their trust funds–as far as he knew, at least. However, after twelve dates–thirteen after tonight–they had all proven themselves to be nothing but spoiled daddy’s girls, clacking around in their stilettos and unable to talk about anything other than their travels and spa retreats. None of these women would make me look good in the public eye. Instead, they’d frame me as just another slimy, money-hungry politician.

I’m probably being too hard on Heidi. I haven’t even spoken to her yet. Maybe she’ll break the mold.

“Oh, you must be Madden! You look just like your Facebook photo.” She beams at me, then reaches down to pet her purse. Wait, no… there’s a dog inside her purse.

Dear Lord, please help this hour go by fast.

Trying not to stare at the purse dog, I look directly at her face. “Yes, pleased to meet you, Heidi.”

She giggles. “And don’t forget Pompom!”

I clear my throat and force myself to look at the dog. “Right, good evening… Pompom.” Opening the door for her, I gesture for her to walk inside. “Like I mentioned over the phone, I only have an hour. My high school reunion is tonight.”

I tack on that last part for good measure, hoping it sounds convincing. I could be late to my reunion, of course, but I have a feeling I won’t want this date to go over one hour.

She walks through the door, grabbing my arm with her free hand as she passes. “Oh, that’s okay. I have a nail appointment after this, anyway.”

The hostess seats us at our table in a private room and we spend the next agonizing hour talking about the chain of luxury condos her father owns. Trying not to be too obvious, I glance down at my watch every five minutes, but she’s too preoccupied with her dog to notice.

Not soon enough. The hour is over. I pay the bill and we amicably go our separate ways. I get in my car and scrub one exhausted hand down my face. I’m beginning to sweat this whole marriage thing. There are only five women left on my dad’s list, and if they’re anything like their thirteen predecessors, not a single one of them will be suitable. After all this time and stress, will I still have to give up my congressional goals?

As I drive over to my old high school, I try to relax by pushing away thoughts of the campaign and instead thinking back to what my life was like ten years ago. Honestly, I don’t mind these silly reunions because I have a lot of great memories from high school. I remember being surrounded by friends, playing football, having no responsibilities, and never having trouble getting a date.

Thinking of dating invites a fresh wave of nerves. I’ll probably have to see my ex-fiancée tonight, since Jen and I went to high school together. She lives in Wichita, so I assume she’ll be there. My heart is racing and my stomach feels unsettled.

When I finally reach the school parking lot, I put my car in park and take a deep breath. After a few minutes, I walk inside.

I take in the tile flooring and scuffed, off-white walls, which still look exactly the same. I can smell the lemony scent of the cleaner our janitor, Mr. Holcomb, used every day. I swear I even detect a hint of the aroma of the pizza they served for lunch every Friday–which is why Fridays were always my favorite day of the week.

I never imagined I’d be back at Heartland Academy ten years later, but the class president is supposed to give a brief speech. And I was, of course, the class president. It’s definitely cheesy, but now that I’m starting my campaign, I need to get used to making public appearances. This will be good practice.

As I walk into the gymnasium, I hear music and the merry chatter of my former classmates. Someone took a lot of time decorating the gym with gold- and navy-colored streamers and balloons, our school colors.

I forget my nerves about seeing Jen when I spot half a dozen of my old football teammates standing in a circle by the drink table. They wave me over with broad grins.

“Hey, guys! Good to see you!” I smile as we all exchange fist bumps. They all look pretty much the same. Most of the guys have lost their youthful chub, but we’re only twenty-eight. It’s not like we’ve all gotten’ grey and wrinkly yet.

“Dude, what have you been up to? Still working as a lawyer?” My old friend, Greg, asks. He still looks exactly the same, his muscular build dressed in a t-shirt and gym shorts with his shaggy black hair falling into his eyes.

I casually cross my arms over my chest. “Yes, but only for a few more weeks. I’m running for Congress in the next election.”