Page 138 of The Finish Line

“I’m not a fucking treasure, or a delicate rose, or a shrinking violet or a damsel in distress, or a fucking mouse! I’m just as capable as either of you and as soon as I’m able, I’m going to kick both your asses!”

They burst into laughter as I cross my arms, fury rolling through me.

“Spoken like a true queen,” Tobias muses.

“Please don’t do this for me,” I beg. Angry tears threaten. “Neither of you will be my fucking hero for this.”

“Again,” Tobias points to his chest, “villain.”

“Yeah, such a horrible man. How much will you lose for me?”

“Everything,” he says without hesitation. “But this isn’t about losing.”

“Please don’t put this on me.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

Hope springs inside of me.

“I’ll do it for Sean. He’s got another baby on the way.” All my objections cease. He didn’t deliver the news with the intent to hurt me, but the long look we share tells me he’s afraid it might.

“Cecelia,” Tyler says, taking my attention away. “I promise you. This is a good thing.”

I swallow and stare at the two of them, knowing it’s happening with or without my support.

“You’ve worked your whole lives—”

“To change the rules,” Tobias states. “And we are.”

I chew over his words as we ride in amicable silence before Tyler speaks up.

“You’re all grown up, Cee.”

I look over to him and see him staring at me with warm eyes.

“You’re just...” He shakes his head. “When I met you, well, you were... it’s just wild, the changes.”

“I could say the same about you.”

He turns to Tobias. “Are you going to put a ring on this woman or what?”

Tobias gazes on at me, completely silent, without any intention of replying. He asked me if I wanted children, and not even an hour ago said he would marry me if he were selfish, which only confused me further. Breaking our gaze, I stare out the window. “He’s barely managed to get through six weeks of domesticity, Tyler,” I smirk. “Let’s cut him a break.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Cecelia

Buttoning his jacket, earpiece in place, Tyler exits the limo and leads us into an underground entrance. We walk down a long, lifeless corridor and enter the elevator. Minutes later, we step into the Oval Office as the President hovers over his wife, who seems to be giving him hell from where she sits on the couch.

“—you stubborn ass.”

“Baby, don’t be rude—” he glances up, his politician’s smile firmly in place—“we have company.”

The First Lady directs her attention to us, her scowl giving way to a playful smile as she stands. The President’s eyes land on Tobias a second before they rush toward the other, doing the man clap thing and holding their embrace for a few lingering seconds.

“It’s been too long,” the President says as they break and take a seconds-long look at each other before his eyes roll over Tobias in appraisal. “Nice suit. You look good, brother.”

“And you look like shit,” Tobias quips.