Page 140 of The Finish Line
“It’s our fourth try. But it’s going to happen this time,” she whispers. “I can feel it.” She snatches another mimosa off the tray and dares Preston to object. He squeezes her knee in encouragement as he kicks back and crosses one leg over the other. I can’t help but take in how beautiful he is in person. The camera truly doesn’t do him enough justice.
“I can’t believe you two went to school together.”
“Good times,” Preston says. “I bet he never told you about the night he saved my life.”
“That’s a stretch,” Tobias says.
“The hell it is,” Preston retorts.
“I guess I owe you, Tobias.” Molly shrugs. “Or do I?”
“Keep it up, woman.” Preston smiles at his wife, his eyes thirsty as he rolls them over her, giving Tobias and I another peek inside their private life. Tobias grips my hand in his, and Preston clears his throat when Tyler walks in.
“Ready to do this?” Preston asks, standing.
“To hell with that, you’re going to eat your breakfast first, then business.”
“Molly—”
She turns to him, her stare murderous, and he bites his fist before shaking it at her. And it’s then I fall for them both.
Tobias bursts into laughter across the table from Preston, and the sound of it has me pausing mid-conversation with Molly. I haven’t heard him laugh like that in years, if ever, and I dart my gaze between the two of them, a little awestruck.
“We’re lucky, aren’t we?” Molly asks, sipping the orange juice she switched to after her second glass. She looks between the two of them as they talk. “We’re sitting with the two most powerful men in the world, but that isn’t what makes it so special. If anything, it makes it harder to love them, not to respect them, but to love them, doesn’t it?”
I nod.
“But that’s what makes us special,” she continues. “This isn’t just a courtship of boy meets girl. They fall in love, yadda, yadda. This is a lifelong commitment to men who aren’t satisfied living ordinary lives. It sometimes seems more of an obsession than a mission. One that can test a woman to her absolute limits.” She grins over at me. “But for him, for that man, I’ll do it. I’ll be there when he fucks up so badly he can’t celebrate how good he is or what he’s done. I’ll be there whenever he doubts himself and our relationship suffers because of those doubts. I’ll be there with my hair done, and my lipstick on, in my best heels, with my head held high on his darkest days, because that’s what he needs. And I don’t want him changing. I don’t want him to stop being who he is, not ever, not for me, and not for any baby we make.” She turns her gaze to me. “But I will use the tips of these heels to pierce and pin his brass balls down if he ever stops giving me what I need.” She winks and takes another sip of her OJ, and from the sparkle in her eye, I can see it might not all be juice. Heat licks my profile, and I know he’s watching me, curious about our hushed conversation.
She glances at Tobias, a soft smile on her lips before she turns and zeroes in on me. “Do you have a good set of heels, Cecelia?”
“Already wearing them,” I assure her, taking a sip of my drink after we clink glasses.
Standing in The State Dining Room of the White House two hours later, I look up at Healy’s portrait of Lincoln hanging over the mantel and marvel at the fact I’m here. I’m exhausted but running on adrenaline due to all that’s transpired and the fact that I have the First Lady’s personal cell phone number. I gaze up at Honest Abe, wondering how honest he really was and curious if he ever got his hands dirty—or had a similar monster, one remotely close to the one my man deals with. I stare on entranced until I feel him, a different kind of man, one far more aggressive in his approach to seek justice as he circles my waist and nuzzles me.
“How did it go?”
“Really well.”
“You mean that?”
“I’m surprised at how happy I am.”
“Good.” I swallow. “I’ll drag the details out of you soon.”
“I’ll give them all to you after some sleep. You’ll be in on the next meeting. I made sure of it.”
I nod and turn to him. “You know it’s not fair,” I say softly.
“What’s not fair?”
“You deserve recognition for what you’ve done the same as any of these others. I know they’ve all gotten their hands dirty at one point. Maybe they had their own monsters. None of them are innocent. You deserve... so much more. You deserve to be recognized for what you’ve done, Tobias.”
“I didn’t do it the honest way,” he says easily. “And even if their hands weren’t clean, they gave the impression they were. A lot of them were good men weighed down by others. And I don’t give a fuck about notoriety.”
“I knew you would say that.”
“Because it’s true. The only opinion, the only reflection I care about, is looking right back at me. And as long as she’s staring at me the way she is, I consider myself both validated and recognized.”