Capital Lies (Their First Lady Book 3)

by Lucia Black

  We lifted our glasses and toasted. I’d barely had a chance to drink mine when Preston asked, “What is this?”

  “It’s Christmas in a cup,” I replied. “You said whiskey, so I added whiskey.”

  “You didn’t say eggnog. You asked if I wanted brandy, rum, or whiskey. I feel like I’ve been cheated out of good whiskey.” He cocked an eyebrow and took a sip. “This is terrible.”

  Despite what he just said, he took another sip. “Cal, you drink this?” he asked.

  Cal was sitting in his favorite chair and he took a sip. “It’s Christmas. Of course.”

  Preston looked at his glass again, as though he was unsure.

  “Fine.” I moved to sit next to him on the couch and tried to pry the glass from his hands. “I’ll take it if you don’t want it.”

  “I never said I don’t want it. I just said I don’t like it.” Preston argued and took another drink.

  “You make no sense. None. It’s like you’re talking in circles,” I complained.

  Cal barked a laugh. “See? It’s good to know I’m not the only one that has told you that recently.”

  Was I dreaming, or were the three of us having a good time? Friendly banter and some laughs, and we weren’t even drunk yet. I couldn’t be the only one that felt there was a massive elephant in the room. Was it just in my mind? Or were we just all good at playing it off? I wasn’t sure anymore. It felt a little like Preston may have been trying to hard, but I couldn’t tell.

  “Laugh all you want, but I need as much to drink as possible. I expect my family to be making their annual obligatory call soon, and I like to be as liquored up as possible for it.”

  I looked down to my cup. “I’m sorry, Preston. I didn’t think about them calling you today.”

  “It’s whatever.” He ran a hand through his hair and tipped back his drink, downing as much of it as he could. “On to happier things.” Preston set his glass aside and walked back to the foyer to retrieve some gift bags. When he returned, he held them up. “I brought you both a present.”

  “We said no gifts, Preston.” I eyed a snowflake and nutcracker patterned gift bag. “Hey,” I chided, “you’re an asshole. You were just giving me shit for my decorations and you have a bag with nutcrackers on it.”

  Preston shrugged and handed it to me. Cal shook his head and laughed. Preston handed him an evergreen gift bag.

  Cal sat it down beside his chair and got up. “I’ll get yours real quick. Tessa, where did you put them?”

  “In the guest room. Thank you,” I said, leaning my head back to look at him as he walked past me.

  As Cal walked away, Preston shifted his body and his pinky softly grazed my leg. I felt my body stiffen and an instant ache throbbed between my legs. It happened so fast, I couldn’t even tell if it was an accident or if it was intentional.

  He cleared his throat. “Did you have a good Christmas with your family, err—families?” he asked, looking away slightly as he corrected himself. Now we were back to feeling awkward. I felt a lump crawl up to my throat. No, no, no . . . we needed to be able to get an evening in without this happening.

  “Yeah . . . it was really nice” Nice, Tessa? That’s what you’ve got? I cleared my throat like he had. “Um, how about you?”

  He tilted his head from side to side. “It’s gotten a lot better now that I’m here.”

  I smiled, a warmth spreading through me. I wanted to hear him say ‘with you.’ But he didn’t. And I silently chastised myself for wishing those words had come out.

  “Here you are,” Cal said as he returned and handed him the two gold gift-wrapped packages and Preston accepted.

  I smiled to Cal, meeting his eyes, and hoping I could convey that I wasn’t a horrible person for just having been thinking about being in love with his best friend. I looked down to the gift bag from Preston and pulled out the white tissue paper. Carefully wrapped in it was a hardcover copy of my favorite author’s newest novel. And it wasn’t published yet.

  “How’d you get this?” I whispered. “It hasn’t even released yet.”

  “She’s a friend, and I knew you wanted it. You’d been reading her books on the campaign trail and when we were in Florida, you mentioned this book coming out next year.” He said it so casually, like it was nothing. It was no big deal that he was friends with her, and it was no big deal that he noticed what book I was reading. Or where we were when I said I couldn’t wait to read the new installment.

  “Thank you,” I breathed. Without being able to contain myself, I leaned over and hugged him. He smelled of whiskey and his spicy cologne, and god help me I wanted to kiss him. I pulled away quickly.

  “Preston,” Cal said, “how’d you get these?” He held up two gold cufflinks and smiled.

  “I have my ways. You said you wanted our fraternity cufflinks, so I tracked down a pair.” Preston tore the wrapping on a rectangular box.

  “That’s from me,” Cal said as Preston pulled the bottle of whiskey out of the box.

  “You know me so well. That’s a hard to find bottle. Thanks,” he said and smiled. “I’ll be sure not to ruin it with eggnog.”

  I elbowed him and smirked at him. “Go on. Open mine.”

  “Is it a pizza? Did you guys get me whiskey and pizza?”

  The box was large and flat and did, in fact, look like a pizza.

  “Just open it.” I glowered.

  He tore the paper off and slid the box open.

  “Oh, wow . . .” He pulled the dartboard out of the box and studied it. “Did you . . . did you make this?”

  “She spent hours on it,” Cal said. But he wasn’t mad or jealous. He was proud.

  “I’ve had more time on hands while I wasn’t teaching. I mean, I’ve been busy with the team preparing for the transition in January, but I needed something else to do. I thought you could put it up in your new office. For stress relief.”

  The dartboard was just a normal dartboard, but I had taken each section and turned it into a representation of places we’d been on the campaign trail while still keeping it color coordinated for points. It turned out pretty well, in my opinion.

  “This is . . . I don’t even have words. It’s been a long time since anyone has given me something so thoughtful.”

  Preston pulled me into a hug. I buried my head in his neck and let my arms trace his back.

  Just then, Preston’s cell rang. He pulled away from me and fished the phone out of his pocket. He took a deep sigh.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to put on a show.” He touched the screen to answer the call. “Hello, Mother.” I was still watching him. His face went white and his jaw went slack. “What?”

  Preston hurried up off the couch and left the room without looking at us. I looked to Cal. “Is that normally how that conversation goes?”

  “Honestly, no. It’s the usual fake charade they continue to put on to save face. He doesn’t usually leave the room. But to be honest, I’m not surprised by much of anything they do.”

  As Cal finished his sentence, Preston walked back into the room. He held the phone in his hand, and his eyes looked vacant.

  “I need to go to Tennessee. Tonight.” His voice sounded hoarse, like he needed water.

  “What?” Cal asked, standing up from his chair quickly. “Why? For how long? Now is a hell of a time to leave, Preston. We need to be in Washington—”

  “Annabelle died.”

  Chapter 5

  “Wh . . . what did you just say?” Cal asked, his voice lowering to a whisper.

  “Annabelle. She . . . she’s dead.” Preston’s face had drained of any trace of color and his voice was so choked I could tell tears were threatening to spill.

  “Who’s Annabelle?” I asked.

  They both ignored me as the realization washed over Cal. His mouth hung slightly ajar and his expression turned vacant as he stared at Preston, blinking. I’d never seen him like that before. Cal was the calm one. Cal was the composed one. If Cal was having
that kind of reaction, I couldn’t imagine how Preston was feeling.

  He was almost frozen as he kept his eyes trained on Cal. The only movement he made was when his Adam's apple bobbed up and down with each hard swallow.

  My eyes darted back and forth as if I were following along with the pendulum on a clock. Cal. Preston. Cal. Preston.

  They were both having this huge reaction, and I understood, someone had just died, after all. But I didn’t know who. I knew that somehow she mattered to both of them. I knew they were shocked. I sensed that whoever Annabelle was, she was not supposed to die yet. She was not an aging grandmother. That was clear.

  I needed to know, so I asked again. “Who is Annabelle?”

  “What happened?” Cal asked. They ignored my question for the second time.

  “I, um—I don’t know. She was sick. They said she was sick,” he answered Cal.

  Preston trudged on heavy feet over to the couch and sat next to me, just like he was before he got the phone call. But instead of looking at me, he stared down. I turned to him and studied him. All the lines marring his handsome face spelled out his anguish. I wanted to be there for him. I wanted to offer some words of solace and make it all better for him, but I was confused.

  I patted his hand resting on his knee and decided to ask one more time.

  “Preston,” I said in a soft voice. “Who is Annabelle to you?”

  He glanced up from the floor and met my gaze. His eyes were watery and unfocused.

  “She’s Libby’s mom.” He squeezed his fist in his hand and then ground them together.

  I nodded. “Okay,” I said. “And who is Libby?”

  “My daughter,” he answered.

  He spoke the words plainly and simply, as if he didn’t just throw a child out into the world. Preston was a father. A child existed in the world who was fifty percent Preston and I had no idea. He had a whole entire life I knew nothing about. There was a woman out there who had a child with him, and now she was gone.

  I couldn’t wrap my brain around any of those things. I felt lightheaded.

  “You have a daughter?” I kept my voice as low and calm as possible even though I was frantic inside. I knew the situation wasn’t about me, and I was trying very hard not to make it out to be, but how could I not know? How could he not tell me?

  Preston nodded, pressing his lips together. He leaned back on the couch and I found myself moving with him. “I have a daughter.”

  I had no words, so I said the only thing that came to mind. “I, um, I didn’t know.”

  “No one does,” Cal interjected from his chair.

  “I want to ask a million questions, but I don’t even know where to start.”

  Preston met my gaze again. His eyes were saying so much but his mouth just wasn’t ready yet.

  “I’m sorry you found out this way.”

  “Preston,” I said with a sad smile. “Don’t apologize.” I thought about the child all alone in the world. I might not have known everything about Preston, but I was positive he wouldn’t be a deadbeat dad. There had to be an explanation and I had to be the one to ask. “But I would like to hear about your daughter.”

  Cal cleared his throat and got my attention. When he caught my eye, he shook his head. That didn’t matter much to me. Preston was the only one who could decide if he wanted to talk or not.

  “We can discuss this later, Tessa,” Cal said. His glare said to drop it, but I just couldn’t, and it wasn’t like me to let things go.

  “I’m just trying to process what’s going on here. And the three of us are a team, right?”

  Cal’s frown deepened. “You and I can talk later. Preston needs time.”

  “No, I’ll tell her. She’s right. She should know.”

  Preston sighed and Cal sat silently to the side. “She’s six, almost seven. And Libby is . . . well, she’s amazing. She’s smart, and kind, and so beautiful it hurts.”

  Just the mention of Libby brought some color back to his face.

  I smiled, trying to imagine this beautiful little girl with Preston’s blue eyes. That satisfied one question. He loved his little girl. But then I had more pressing questions to ask him. “And what about Annabelle?”

  “It . . . didn’t work out between us. She moved back to Tennessee and I stayed here to further my political career.”

  I could tell there was far more to this story. He loved her, but no one knew about her. A person doesn’t just keep a child hidden for no reason. As much as it killed me, I had to bite my tongue and do everything in my power to keep from interrogating him.

  “I never wanted to be away from Lib—”Preston shot up from the couch and nearly knocked me over as he did. “I have to go get Libby.”

  He headed straight for the elevator, but before I could even get up off the couch to go after him, he stopped and turned back around all while his shoes squeaked on the floor, punctuating the otherwise silent room.

  “Preston,” I called after him.

  He pulled his phone out as he stood half in the foyer and half in the living room. It was like I could see all the thoughts pinging around in his mind. Funeral arrangements. Custody arrangements. Living arrangements. A little girl who would have to grow up without a mother. The thought made my chest ache.

  “I have . . . calls to make.”

  He started pacing again. This time he headed toward the bedroom and then came back again to walk the length of the living room and crossed into the kitchen. Cal and I stared at each other, neither of us sure what to do.

  Once he paced his way back out into the living room, I tried talking to him again.

  “Preston.”

  It was like no one else was there. He would pace a few feet and then pull out his phone and stare at it. Then he would continue to pace. He was bumping into things; the edge of the couch, the corner of the coffee table. His mind wasn’t in that apartment, so he wasn’t sure why his body was.

  Eventually, he got his phone out and actually made a call. He tapped the screen several times and then put the phone to his ear. He waited only a few seconds and then ended the call. I glanced to Cal, worried Preston was having some kind of episode.

  “Preston, sit down,” Cal ordered.

  Thank god he listened. Preston sunk onto the couch like he’d been waiting for someone to give him permission to. He reached for my hand, not in a dramatic way, just in a very subtle gesture that left his palm out for me to hold. I took his hand in both of mine and squeezed.

  I’d held Preston’s hand plenty of times before. The Preston who was happier. The Preston who didn’t have a motherless daughter. This time it was the ghost of him. His hand was as unmoving and cold as ice.

  “Cal, is he going to be okay?”

  Cal finished his drink, a perfectly common reaction to bad news, and leaned forward. He planted his elbows on his knees and studied Preston like a fine piece of abstract art.

  “Preston, listen to me. Libby is fine and she will be fine. She has you. Everything will be okay.”

  Preston softened and took a small breath almost as if he were finally back in his body. Cal somehow had the ability to look at Preston and know exactly what he needed to hear, so he said it.

  “I have to go to Tennessee. Tonight. My plane was chartered. It leaves in two hours.” His voice took on a shade of anger, but still told me how broken up he was.

  “I’ll go with you.” The words left my mouth before I even thought about what I was saying. I saw his pain, knew how much more pain there would be to come, and I wanted to be with him for it. But I had a husband and I didn’t know what he’d think of that.

  Preston ran a hand through his hair and looked at Cal. He looked back to me and said, “You can’t do that. You—”

  “Let her go with you.” We both turned to look at Cal. “She can stay calm and help you with whatever you might need. You can’t do this alone, Preston, and one of us has to be here. Take Tessa.” Instant relief passed through me. Not only was Cal a good h
usband, but he was also an amazing friend.

  “Thanks,” Preston said to Cal. His eyes turned watery at the gesture, and in turn, so did mine. “I’d really appreciate it if you came with me. I don’t know what the hell to do.” Preston squeezed my hand.

  “It’s okay,” I told him. “We’ll figure it out together.”

  Cal rose from his chair and pulled out his phone in one fluid movement. His face had shifted. He’d gone from comfortable, to shock, to stern, and now it held that presidential look. He had a lot of business to take care of.

  “I’ll get in touch with the public relations team. And the house staff so they can prepare for Libby at your residence. Current and future.”

  He tapped away on his phone.

  “Now, Cal? It’s Christmas.”

  “Tessa, Libby will need a room of her own. And the second the press or anyone catches wind of this, she becomes a target. She needs a security detail now. Christmas doesn’t matter anymore,” Cal said.

  “No, you’re right.” I nodded, then turned back to Preston. “Come with me. We have to pack a few things. “We have to pack a few things. I don’t know how long we’ll be gone for, so make sure you pack enough for at least a few days.”

  “I have to go to my place,” he said almost absentmindedly.

  I nodded. “I can pack my bag in less than five minutes. Then we’ll go to your apartment to pack you.” Something told me not to leave him alone. I was worried he’d fall apart again if I did. “Then we’ll head to the airstrip and get to Libby—wait, where is Libby right now?”

  “She’s at Annabelle’s house with Jolene, her nanny.”

  Chapter 6

  At some point on the plane, Preston and I both fell asleep. We hardly spoke. He stared out the window, and I cuddled beneath a blanket with my legs tucked underneath me. I was there if he needed me. I couldn’t recall laying my head on his shoulder or dozing off. But suddenly I was being gently touched on the arm by a flight attendant.

  “Mrs. James?” she whispered. Tap tap tap.