Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
“Sorry to speak out of turn, but sir, Ms. Rogers is fine. Physically,” responds the driver, causing my advisor to send him a venomous look. “The security team is still with her. They wouldn’t leave her side until you dismissed them directly.”
That reassurance does nothing to stop the panic shredding my insides to ribbons. “Where is she?”
A brief pause. “Philadelphia.”
I almost get sick, black, wavy spots flooding my vision. “Back to the airfield. Now.”
“I thought you might say that, sir,” smiles the driver, whipping into a U-turn.
I return my attention to the advisor. “You have ten seconds to explain what caused Ms. Rogers to resign and go back to Philadelphia.”
“It wasn’t my call,” he hedges.
“What wasn’t your call?”
“To approach Ms. Rogers about…your budding relationship with her. The way it might be perceived by voters as inappropriate. Clandestine, even.” He shifts in the seat. “Your cabinet members felt any further association with Ms. Rogers would reflect poorly on you and we simply communicated the sentiment. She chose to resign on her own.”
My stomach hits the floor.
No.
No, they don’t know Eloise. They don’t know she would set herself on fire before costing me a single vote. They don’t know she believes in me more than all my cabinet members combined and the possibility of jeopardizing my good name would have positively gutted the girl. I want to commit murder against everyone who made her feel that way. “Let me make this clear,” I say, voice pulled tighter than a violin bow sting. “I’m not running this country unless she’s beside me.”
It's clear that my advisor doesn’t take the threat seriously. “Sir, I know she’s very attractive, but—”
“Attractive? That’s the tip of the iceberg of what she is. And that’s the last time you ever comment on her appearance. That’s mine to appreciate and no one else’s. Period. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You better hope she comes back to Washington with me,” I wheeze, starting to feel dizzy, the fact that she’s been gone for three days starting to sink in. “In the future, nothing this important is to be kept from me. I don’t care what is going on. Or where I am. If there is a matter that concerns the future first lady, I’m to be told immediately.”
“The future—” My advisor gulps loudly, his complexion ashen. “Yes, sir.”
All I can do is sit very still and stare straight ahead, afraid that if I move, I’m going to separate into a thousand pieces. Her gentle heart has been damaged. She had to have been terrified that she did something wrong. Until I have her in my arms where I can reassure her in person, I need to disassociate…or lose my mind. And if the trauma inflicted on her proves irreversible, everyone is going to pay.
Eloise
I’m standing behind the counter of my father’s crepe shop, a phony smile pasted onto my face as I take an order for two women. I’m not planning on working in the shop permanently, but I hoped the familiar, cheerful space would help make me feel normal.
Like my heart isn’t broken in nine jagged pieces.
Three days.
I haven’t seen or heard or touched my love in three days…and it’s going to be an eternity of this emptiness. I’ve done the right thing, though, haven’t I? I could have been selfish and chosen my own happiness over the sake of Pierce, the country, but I chose the harder path. When he returns to Washington, he’ll be angry with me at first. In time, he’ll understand why I left, though.
Sensing a presence behind me, I turn and find my father watching me with concern, his cheerfully striped apron covered with streaks of ingredients. “Honey, do you want to take a break? You look exhausted.”
I glance at my reflection in one of the stainless-steel refrigerators behind the counter and admit he’s right. My eyes are hugged on the bottom by dark half-moons, most of my ponytail having escaped the rubber band long ago, but I haven’t bothered to fix the mess. I’m the human version of a haunted house.
“I’m fine, Dad.”
He pats my shoulder. “Whenever you’re ready to talk about what happened in Washington, I’m here, okay?”
Gratitude and grief join forces to clog my throat. “Thanks, Dad. I don’t know when I’ll be able to talk about him.”
“Who is ‘him’?” He frowns. “Did someone hurt you, honey?”
“No. I stopped myself from hurting him. But it’s all over now—”
I’m interrupted by the sound of chopper blades. Loud ones. Close.
I’m trading a confused look with my father when a line of SUVs pull up at the perimeter of the park across the street, familiar men in black suits jumping out and clearing space on the expanse of green grass, and quickly, I realize why. The chopper needs to land.
Hope bubbles inside of me, but I shake my head.