Madame President

by Tara Sue Me

  He knows this as well as I do. What he doesn’t know is who the reporter was who asked the question. Rachelle, from The Times, is still a mean girl, trying everything she can to make me look bad. Nothing’s worked yet, however her latest attempt came close.

  Seconds after my warning, her hand shot up with her question, “Madame President, isn’t it true you turned down Prince Nicholas because you secretly harbor feelings for Navin Hazar?”

  Two years later, the sound of his name still holds the power to hit me square in the chest. Fortunately, I’m now an expert in covering that pain. At least I am in public.

  “I understand, Madame President,” David says.

  He leaves and I tell Nicole to hold calls and visits for ten minutes. Hearing Navin’s name had definitely thrown me for a loop.

  Over the last two years we’ve kept in touch, but only briefly and only a few times, and always via emails or texts. I still don’t know where he is or what he’s doing. He’s never offered to tell, and I haven’t asked. Nor have I asked the questions most important to me. When is he coming back? Is he coming back?

  I want to hate him for what he did two years ago; for walking away and not looking back. And yet, I can’t. Mostly because he was right. He was a distraction, and I did need to concentrate on my job. While his absence was noticeable, I wasn’t able to dwell on it, frankly because I was too busy. I threw myself into work and completed my first year in office with higher approval ratings than when I started.

  Things got interesting during my second year when Prince Nicholas of Norway accompanied his parents to a State Dinner at the White House. He’s single and thirty-two. Since then, the idea of an American President and a Norwegian Prince together is becoming more and more desirable to the American public.

  It’s not going to happen, at least not with me.

  The ringing of my phone tells me my ten minutes are up.

  “Yes, Nicole,” I answer.

  “Professor Ivan Lee on the line for you, Madame President,” she replies.

  “Put him through.”

  Professor Lee has recently retired from Harvard Law. He was one of my favorite professors and specializes on constitutional law. I’ve asked him to move to Washington DC to serve as one of my advisors and I’m hopeful he’s calling today to accept.

  “Madame President,” he says when I answer, and wastes no time getting down to business. “Thank you again for your gracious offer. I’ve decided to accept.”

  I tell him how pleased I am he’ll being joining my staff and we talk for a few minutes about timelines. I tell him I’ll get him in touch with an admin who can help him find a place to rent or buy.

  “Tell your admin I’d like something similar to the place Navin owns. I saw pictures and his view is magnificent.”

  I had been unprepared to hear his name for the first time today. I am even less prepared the second. I recover enough from my shock to realize what he said. “You’ve seen pictures?” I ask. “Of his DC place?”

  “Yes,” Ivan says like it’s normal for me to be talking about the man I’ve never been able to get over. “It’s too bad he decided to return to the area. I’d have been more than happy to have taken that property off his hands.”

  My mind spins at his words. Navin is back? In DC? For good?

  I take a deep breath and ask calmly, “I thought he was renting that place out?”

  “He was, Madame President, but after graduation he wanted to move back to DC and do his judicial clerkship there.”

  Chapter Forty

  Him

  Washington DC

  “Courier just dropped this off for you.”

  I know as soon as I see the envelope in the building manager’s outstretched hand that she’s found me. I take it with a thanks and head outside. It’s a warm day in early summer, but not as hot or humid as it will be soon. Taking a seat on an outside bench, I hold the invitation and flip it to where my name is visible. Mr. Navin Hazar written in calligraphy.

  I’m insanely curious as to what I’ve been invited to at the White House. Carefully lifting the flap, I slide the heavy cardstock out of the envelope. It’s an invitation, much like I’ve seen pictures and portrayed in movies, but never held. As expected, it is short and to the point. The President requests the pleasure of your company for a reception. The date and time are listed for tomorrow afternoon. Too late for lunch and not late enough for dinner. There’s not an RSVP number to call, nor does it state who or what the reception is for.

  My plan had been to approach Anna after moving back a week ago, but I’ve been wavering a bit. If she’s getting hot and heavy with the Crown Prince of Norway, I don’t want to get involved. Nor do I think she’d be overjoyed at my return.

  But now, she’s inviting me. That changes things. I can’t assume she’s not with the Prince, but it makes it less likely. Maybe. I look at the invitation and laugh because it doesn’t matter. I have to go. She hasn’t given me a way to decline.

  The White House is both familiar and oddly unknown at the same time, as I drive up to the guard station the next day. It’s not unlike returning home after a long journey, the main difference being the home I’m returning to is not a building, but a person. Anna.

  It’s been almost painful watching her while keeping my distance. She has exceeded everyone’s expectations. Of course, there are the naysayers, but compared to other administrations, there’s a noticeable difference. Everyone has seen an improvement in the willingness of most members of Congress to compromise. Her approval rating is the highest of any modern President.

  There have been a few whispers because you never see her in the company of a man. I think that’s why everyone has gone completely ape shit over this Norwegian Prince. At least I hope that’s why it is. Though if she really has fallen for the guy, I don’t have the right to complain. I’m the one who let her go.

  Once I’m parked, I’m led into a small antechamber to wait. Something’s off, though. There should be more people present for a reception. I don’t see anyone. A quick glance at my watch confirms I have the time correct.

  So where is everyone?

  The door opens, and a Secret Service agent enters. He’s familiar, but I don’t remember him from the White House and it takes me a minute to remember exactly why.

  “Captain Phillips?” I ask.

  He doesn’t answer. He only winks in acknowledgement before stepping aside.

  Anna walks in. It’s been too long since I’ve seen her in person, and I stand there for a minute, drinking in the sight of her as if I have every right to do so. Much like the feeling I had pulling up moments ago, she is both the same and different. There’s a knowledge in her eyes that wasn’t there before, but it’s accompanied by a wariness. Though she was confident two years ago, she stands now with a confidence of a different type. The type that has been put through fire and came out purer and more refined.

  “Madame President,” I say because the woman who gave me permission to call her Anna is not the woman before me now.

  The side of her mouth quirks up, and she crosses the room to me. “Back to that, are we, Mr. Hazar?” She holds out her hand for me to shake. Her skin is softer than I remember.

  “It seemed prudent.” I look around. “Where’s everyone else?”

  “There is no everyone else. It’s just me and you.” At my shocked expression, she continues, “I thought reception sounded better than private audience.”

  “I see your point there.”

  “Come let’s sit down and talk.” She leads me into a room I’ve never been in. A formal sitting room, if I had to guess.

  She sits on a plush couch and motions for me to join her. “Have you really been in law school for the last two years?”

  I’m pleased to see her directness hasn’t changed. “Yes.”

  “I can’t tell you how happy I am you decided to go back and finish.” Her smile is genuine, she truly is happy for me. “And you’ll make a great judge one day.”
<
br />   “Thank you. You seem to be doing well yourself.”

  “Perhaps, but I have a lot of help.”

  And maybe she does, but I know who’s responsible for the majority of it. I won’t mention it now, though.

  There’s an awkward moment of silence and suddenly she starts laughing. I find I can’t help but to join in even though I don’t have a clue what we’re laughing at. All I know is it feels good and by the time we stop, any remaining tension between us has vanished.

  Anna wipes under her eyes, though she doesn’t need to worry, her makeup is still flawless. “This meeting was a lot less awkward in my brain.”

  “How long have you known?”

  “A few days.” There’s a hint of mischief in her demeanor that is new. I like it. “Professor Lee is joining my staff. He mentioned you were in town.”

  “It never goes down the way you plan.” I shake my head.

  “What would be the fun in that? Plans are boring.”

  “Says the person in charge of the government with the most red tape in the world.”

  This time, the mischief is visible in her smile. “Well, we all have our shortcomings, you just found mine. Red tape. I can’t make things too easy for people, can I?”

  Her mention of the word easy brings to mind the talk I had with my mom and I know there are things I need to tell her.

  I lean forward a bit. “Anna,” I start, but she stops me.

  “Don’t, let me go first,” she says, and since we’re in her house and she’s the one who invited me, I let her.

  “I want to thank you for what you did two years ago,” she says. “I know it was a decision you didn’t arrive at easily, but you were correct, it had to be done, so thank you for taking the lead on that.”

  “I hate that I was right.” If I don’t get this out and tell her now, I never will. “Because I lost you for two years.”

  “You couldn’t have had me anyway,” she says. “Not in a way that would make us happy. It wasn’t the right time, not with you going back to school while I was still learning the ropes here.”

  “You seem to have them mastered pretty well now.”

  “I’d be able to do it better if they didn’t keep putting up new ones.”

  I chuckle because I know she’s right. “What about now? How is the timing now? I’m saying this based on the assumption you don’t have aspirations to become the Queen of Norway.”

  “Since when have you believed everything the press says? Prince Nicholas and I are friends, that’s all. He’s hopelessly in love with their chef’s daughter.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes,” she says and then adds, “And you can’t tell Gabe."

  I pretend to zip my lips, and she laughs.

  Finally though, she turns to me. “I can’t date a Prince just because I’m single and the President. I won’t go that far. But,” she hesitates, and a bit of uncertainty creeps into her expression. “I do have a weakness for men who refuse to give up on their dream to ensure justice is served. And especially if they have television experience. After all, the whole world will be watching.” She stands up and pulls me to my feet. “Think you can handle that, Mr. Hazar?”

  I put my arms around her. “I’d like for someone to try to stop me, Madame President.”

  Epilogue

  Eighteen Months Later

  Her

  Inauguration Night

  Washington DC

  Tonight’s Inaugural Balls are different from the ones four years ago. I’m on my second term in office and feel more prepared for the road ahead. There’s still work to be done, but after a landslide victory, I know the America we’ve all been fighting for is within our grasp.

  Captain Philips is with me once again, though he’s addressed as Special Agent Phillips now. He told me earlier in the day, he felt much more comfortable in his current role as opposed to the one he was in four years ago.

  There’s one thing that hasn’t changed, though. As I’m introduced at the first ball, Navin reaches for my hand and places a kiss on top. His lips still have the ability to sear my skin with his heat. That same heat is in his eyes as I step into arms and we begin to dance.

  “Have I told you how breathtaking you look tonight?” he asks.

  “Once or twice.”

  He laughs. “Is that all?”

  Before I can answer, he sets me on an outward spin, pulls me in, and catches me in his arms, much to the delight of the watching crowd. I laugh, listening to their whistles and claps.

  “They want us to kiss.” Navin's eyes dance with mischief.

  I stretch up and give him a quick one on his lips. “That’s all they’re getting.”

  I’m not telling him anything he doesn’t know. It wasn’t difficult for the country to forget about a match between me and Prince Nicholas once Navin came back into the picture. Before going public with our relationship, Navin and I discussed what we would share with the world and what we would keep private. Public displays of affection are limited to quick kisses and hand holding.

  We don’t want our relationship to overshadow the inroads made during my first term. While it’s expected people will be interested in the two of us, I refuse to have my relationship with Navin plastered everywhere. The reality is, my focus has to be on my Presidency and serving my country.

  Navin wholeheartedly agrees as he has his own battles to fight. He’s currently doing a two year clerkship for the DC Circuit Court of Appeals with the hope of clerking for the Supreme Court, after. I feel our relationship is sometimes a hindrance for him. Odd because a lot of people assume I helped him get the prestigious clerkship, which I did not. After a few minutes of talking with him, they soon discover Navin doesn’t need my assistance to get him anything.

  According to David, most people see us as two busy professionals who date. Boring was a word used once, I believe. I’m one hundred percent okay if people want to think Navin and I are boring. I know who we are in private.

  Navin and Anna.

  And Navin and Anna have no rules about displays of affection, mandates on appropriate kiss length, or restrictions limiting touching to holding hands. To put it mildly, we are anything but boring.

  It’s fun, having a private life that is so very private. A sentiment currently reflected in Navin’s eyes. I can’t stop my smile from growing, because I know exactly what he’s thinking. We haven’t been able to spend more than a handful of moments together due to the Inauguration and his crazy schedule. It probably won’t happen tonight, either. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.

  “I know there are many things you can’t tell me,” Navin says. “But can you let it slide who thought nine balls were a good idea? Because I’d like to thank them and by thank them, I mean, kick them in the ass.”

  “It was a group decision,” I tell him. I nod toward a woman standing alone by a pillar not far from the dance floor. “But my new White House Director of Communications, Sierra, is the one who put everything together.”

  She worked as my campaign communications director, and she is fabulous.

  Navin studies her. “I remember meeting her. I think I can take her.”

  “I wouldn’t be so certain if I were you.” It’s easy to see why he might think otherwise. She’s petite. Maybe five feet and two inches, and no more than one hundred and ten pounds. “She’s a long term member at DC MMA club.”

  “Shit.”

  The music comes to an end and he walks me off the dance floor, glancing warily at Sierra. I have a small amount of time to speak and shake hands with people before we’re scheduled to leave.

  As the night progresses, I find myself looking forward to the car rides to the other ball locations. For those few silent moments, Navin and I are alone. He likes to tease me, trying to slip a hand up my skirt, or whispering naughty thoughts in my ear and making my skin ripple with gooseflesh.

  On the way to our sixth stop, he wordlessly takes my feet, and slips my shoes off. Though his
massage is close to making my insides turn to jelly, I’m fully alert when he brings up my leak. “Do you wonder who it was and why they stopped?”

  “Who?” I ask.

  “The leak,” he says. “The one who gave the confidential information to the press? I’ve always wondered if it was the same person who sent the pictures?”

  I suppose it’s not that odd for Navin to remember the leak tonight. If it had been the same person who sent the pictures, the first picture was sent right after my first inauguration.

  “No,” I answer. “Whoever it was has stopped right after they gave those photos of us to David. I think maybe because I became so boring they gave up trying to find anything.”

  “You’re probably right,” he says. “But even if they’re still here, they won’t be leaking anything about me. I’m leakproof. I have no more secrets.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely,” he says without thinking.

  “Oh? How about whatever it is you don’t want me see in your front right pant pocket?”

  He doesn’t even attempt to pretend he doesn’t know what I’m talking about, just gives a long sigh. “I should have known I couldn’t hide anything from you.”

  He really should have, but I drop it for now. He reaches into his pocket. The Treasury is working on a new dime design, one featuring me. There have been a few prototypes created, but I haven’t seen one and I’m assuming that’s what he’s been hiding all evening.

  But that wouldn’t explain why he’s sitting in the floor of the car.

  “I hadn’t planned on doing this here,” he says, and I realize he’s not sitting and it’s not a dime he’s holding. He’s on one knee and holding the most exquisite diamond solitaire I’ve ever seen.

  My hands fly to cover the gasp I can’t stop.

  “Anna Elizabeth Fitzpatrick,” he says. “Twenty years ago, a young woman caught my eye, and as I got to know her, I could tell she was someone special. I’m not surprised people are talking about how you’ll rule the world during your second term. You’ve rocked mine since the second I saw you. I love you and it would be an honor to be known as your First Gentleman or we can wait, if you want. Will you marry me?”