Page 139 of The Finish Line
“Goes with the job. I’m projected to look mid-forties by the end of my first term.”
His wife speaks up. “I’ve told you a thousand times not to pay attention to that bullshit.”
The President’s sparkling eyes find me, and I’m so flustered by the sight of him that I flush.
“I can see why you have taken an interest in Virginia.”
Tobias turns, pride in his eyes as he reaches for me and introduces me to them both.
“Mr. President—”
“Cut the crap, King,” the First Lady says.
“This is Cecelia Horner.”
“So nice to meet you, sir,” I say, pumping his hand, my voice shaking at the reality I’m currently in. Mere hours ago, I was in Virginia, fighting with Tobias in a closet as he ripped my panties off, licking me senseless while demanding I pick out a dress. Now I’m standing in the Oval Office.
“Call me Preston.”
“And I’m Molly,” his wife adds, her eyes sweeping me. “So, you’re the one that got away.”
“I didn’t run far enough, apparently.”
Her eyes light with her laugh. “I hope you’re giving him hell.”
“She is,” Tobias chimes in.
“It’s truly an honor to meet you both,” I say, allowing myself the moment. Molly Monroe has been a sort of idol for me since the campaign trail. No bullshit in her delivery, both on and off camera, and she constantly rains hell on the media. She’s very much “what you see is what you get” in an “in your face” way. She seems to truly care about the work she’s doing, has amazing fashion sense, and doesn’t seem to give two shits about outsiders’ opinions.
“You’ll have to excuse my outburst when you got here. My jackass of a husband seems to think calling my bluff on quitting time is a good idea. He’s under some notion that he’s boss.”
Preston looks our way, his eyes wary. “I had my pick of debutantes from every state to choose from, and I happened to pick the sassiest, most stubborn woman alive to badger me until death do us part.”
“Which will be a premature death if you keep jacking your jaws,” Molly tells him off without sparing him a glance, and I can’t help my laugh. Tyler signals to all of us that he’ll be back and gives me a wink before he shuts the door.
“I’ve got a helicopter ride, a little air tour of D.C. set up for us girls, while the boys talk business.”
I hesitate because I don’t want to be outside of the room when it happens, but this isn’t a club meeting, this is the United States government, and I just have to try and trust that my boys will keep me in the loop.
“That sounds incredible,” I say honestly.
“Don’t steal her away just yet,” Preston speaks up before taking a seat on the couch.
“You up for a mimosa?” Molly asks, lifting two flutes from a ready tray. “I know Preston woke you up early, but I’ve got a boring as hell day ahead, and I could use a little numbing.”
“Sure,” I say, glancing over to Tobias, who stares back at me like I’m the most important person in the room. I can see the clear “I love you” in his eyes and have to dart mine away when our connection gets to be too much for the situation.
“Wow, that’s refreshing to see, isn’t it, Pres?” Molly asks, a hint of her Boston accent sneaking through as I take the offered drink.
“Sure is, take notes,” he snarks, gripping her wrist just as she lifts the flute to her lips. “Only one for you,” he instructs before looking between Tobias and me. “We’re doing IVF. That’s why she’s lost her damn mind lately. I’m pretty sure she’s about to start challenging our guys to arm wrestling.”
They’ve been open about their journey to start a family in the media, but to see them talking about it so openly has me a little awestruck. It’s painfully apparent they want to become parents so badly to resemble the true definition of a First Family, and I hope with all my heart it becomes a reality.
“If I’ve lost my mind,” she quips, “it’s because I married a man capable of running a country but has zero hang time.”
“Gives, baby, let’s be careful with the verbiage, gives you zero hang time, lately,” he corrects pointedly. “Let’s not poke holes in my manhood today, tiger. And rest assured, I’m going to put a baby in you tonight,” Preston fires back, his voice heating. “And five more after, so you have six replicas of me to deal with on the daily.”
They share a hopeful look, and I can see some of the heartbreak in Molly’s eyes when she turns to me.