“Well, we don’t really anymore.” He winked. “The nation is kind enough to let us squat.”
I looked at the pond off the side of the chapel and then out onto the forest in the distance. “It’s a stunning place to squat.”
He pulled me to him and whispered in my ear, “Maybe we could live here for a bit. Raise some wee ones with thick Scottish accents that neither of us understand.”
My cheeks flamed. Naturally, I’d thought about where things between Adam and me would lead. If we lived together and that worked out, we might get married, and if we got married, we’d definitely have kids. Since he’d mentioned marriage once before, I knew it wasn’t a remote thought in his mind. And though it had overwhelmed me the first time, to hear him hint at it again now tickled me to death.
He grinned. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? I know I would.”
“Do I get to see you in a kilt?” I asked in a deflection.
“Naturally,” he said, tousling my hair.
Just as we’d predicted, the tabloids wrote their stories that day. I kept up with Matthew, who confirmed they’d received multiple inquiries about the photograph. He said the White House stuck with its script and ended the calls quickly. The following morning, we checked all the tabloids online. The Cambridge photographer had likely made a mint because he’d sold all the photographs to the Daily Mirror—and had evidently captured us doing more than hugging.
David looked over Adam’s shoulder at his laptop and whistled. “That’s quite a lip-lock you two have in that picture.”
“I think it looks sweet,” said Sylvia.
“Sweet?” David snickered and said beneath his breath, “Maybe sweet in an ‘I’m gonna fuck your brains out later’ kind of way.”
I flashed him a look that said I didn’t think it was very funny. “I’m never going to hear the end of it from Matthew.”
“If all you’re worried about is being made fun of by your boss, I think we’re okay,” Adam said as he reached for my hand.
“Thankfully, there’s not much to their story. It’s pretty thin,” I said with a nod. “If the coverage continues this way, I think you’re right.”
After we attended church that morning, the local vicar followed us to the family crypt to inter Professor Kincaid’s ashes. As we walked back to the house, Adam said to me, “It’s odd that I was more emotional Friday at the memorial service than today.”
“Well, that’s because he’s still alive in a way when we talk about him. There’s not much sense of him as a person in a spooky crypt.”
We’d been holding hands, then he let go and grabbed my waist. “I wouldn’t be getting through this without you.”
“Oh yeah, you would.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“Well, if that’s true, I’m glad to help you because you helped me so much,” I said, my voice cracking. “I love you.”
He grinned and lifted my chin to kiss me. Just as his lips were about to meet mine, we heard David call from behind, “That’ll be the last one of those for a while. I need to get Ms. Johnson to her chariot.”
Then he sped past us, but not before hitting Adam’s arm. “Don’t worry, cuz. I’m a pro at taking care of her.”
“Hey!” I laughed. “That was a long time ago.”
Adam growled, “You’re a dead man.”
David didn’t even look behind him as he walked ahead. “No worries. I’ll safely deposit her, untouched, at my bird’s door.”
“Bird?” I shook my head. “Lisa would not like to know she’s been referred to as an animal.”
“It really is a term of endearment,” Adam said. “I promise.”
“Yeah? I can’t wait to hear David explain that one to her.”
As soon as we landed at Dulles Airport, I called Adam.
“I’m glad to hear you arrived in one piece,” he said. “How was the flight?”
“Fine…great, actually. David kindly upgraded me to first class.”
“The man who thinks himself a serf…”
“Yes, I have to say that for someone who portrays himself as this guy from the wrong side of the tracks, he certainly enjoys a lavish lifestyle.”
“He does. He should be the viscount.”
“So what’s up? Are there more stories? I haven’t called Matt yet.”
“Everything else has been regurgitated from the tabloid piece, except for that complete arsehole, Dan Roark. He wrote a few sentences on his blog about us.”
“He did not!”
“Yes, he did. It just proves I was right about him all along.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because he’s a twat, that’s why, and unfortunately, he had a little help from Felicity.”
“Oh no.” Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. I should’ve known something like that would happen. “Read it to me, please.”
“All right.” His proper British accent then changed to a hammed-up American one. It was always funny to hear Adam’s interpretation of Americans, and his take on those he hated was the best. He began by clearing his throat. “‘There’s lots of gossip among the White House Press Corps. I don’t know if anything inappropriate happened between Nicole Johnson and Adam Kincaid while he was at the BBC. I do know they used to talk a fair amount while at work. I never saw anything out of the ordinary, but some people said they believed things started between them at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner.
“‘Then they were seen dancing together rather closely last Saturday night when the president was traveling in Istanbul. It was at a restaurant with many people around, including other members of the press. Kincaid resigned on Monday, and now there are photos of them together. Word on the street is that they knew each other in high school and never got over one another. We’ll see what pans out this week.’”
“Asshole,” I said bitterly. “How do you know Felicity was involved?”
“The part about never getting over you. She accused me of that when I first started seeing you outside of work.”
“I love how he walks a line of not being too accusatory of me. Maybe it’s because I did those shots with him.”
“Maybe, but I bet it’s more that he doesn’t want to poison his relationship with the White House in case you stick around.”
“His blog is just crap, but unfortunately someone will read it. I’ll call Matt to see what he says. Tomorrow is going to suck.”
“I know. I’m very sorry about that. Here you thought I was going to be the sacrificial lamb for our relationship, but you’re the one who will take the public beating.”
“Yes, I will,” I said with a gulp. Then I smiled. “But I’ll take it if I get to finally be with you.”
“That’s exactly what I want to hear.”
As I shared a Washington Flyer cab back to DC with David, I called Matt. He was still grumbling about the situation. “You’ve created quite a mess for us to clean up, haven’t you?”
“I suppose so. I can’t apologize enough.” I once again could feel my stomach get queasy with fear. It was only appropriate for me to make my previous offer. “Do you want me to resign? I will.”
“No,” he said with an added “God no” for emphasis. “I talked it over with Logan. That will just bring more attention to the situation, and, after all, you really didn’t compromise the administration.”
“Thank you. Thank you for this.”
He then laughed. “Not to mention the president pointed out there could be a silver lining in it all.”
“What’s that?”
“I suggested we use this as a distraction and quietly announce that we’re shelving those new banking regulations for now.”
“Ah. That makes sense.” Presidencies always liked to announce news for which they would surely be attacked when there was a distraction—or on Friday at five in the evening, when most reporters had already filed their stories for the day.
“I thought it was a brilliant idea, if I do say so myself.”
“Well, thank you because you’re helping me out as well.”
“Yes, I am, and don’t think I’m going to forget it.”
As predicted, the following morning I was the focus of the White House press briefing. The press corps was all over Matt, demanding answers about whether or not the BBC had special access to the White House because of my relationship with Adam. In an effort to cover the BBC’s ass, even the rookie reporter joined in the questioning. Matt said no a million different ways and repeated the official statement.
I stood off to the side, staring straight ahead just as I would if the topic had been something entirely different. What else could I do, though? To show emotion would be horrible.
We’d rehearsed that they would offer me the opportunity to speak, so when the time came, Matt turned to me and smiled. “Nicole, would you like to answer any questions?”
“No,” I said with a fake smile. “I won’t comment on my personal life.”
It didn’t matter that the White House gave the press little to go on. Somehow, FOX News made its way to Bellaire, Texas. Of all the people they could find there who knew Adam and me, they’d found Meredith Daniels, Adam’s old cheerleader girlfriend. I couldn’t help the schadenfreude when I saw she hadn’t aged well, and she also came across a little bitter.
Staring straight into the TV camera, Meredith declared, “Yes, I knew Adam Kincaid when he lived in Bellaire. We dated for a while. He also dated Nicki Johnson. I don’t know what happened with them. I’m surprised she works in the White House. No one ever thought much would come of her.”
I called Adam immediately after I saw it. “You will never believe who FOX News dug up to talk about us.”
“Who?”
“Your little girlfriend Meredith Daniels.”
“You still hate her, even though we’re together.”
“I’m going to send you the link to the clip. She’s a total bitch. Even gets in a dig at me.” I summed up my anger: “I bet she’s a Republican.”
“That’s your highest insult.” He sniggered.
“Don’t laugh. You were with her.”
“I thought you forgave me for that.”
“I did,” I huffed. “I just don’t like having it thrown in my face again sixteen years later.”
“Nicki, you’re the one I’m with now, right?”
“Right.” I smiled just at the thought.
“Oh fuck,” Adam then said. “That’s bloody awful.”
“What? What’s that?”
“Anderson Cooper is about to interview Dr. Drew about our relationship.”
“Ewww. AC, what are you doing to me? Turn it off.” I sighed. “I know it’s awful, Adam, but we just have to block it out. The story will die eventually.”
The story’s death came more swiftly than we’d anticipated. The following day, Logan took questions after making some remarks on events in the Middle East.
Dan Roark, the jerk, performed as usual when he asked, “Mr. President, I’m sure you’ve heard about the relationship between Nicole Johnson and BBC reporter Adam Kincaid. Has your presidency been compromised in any way because of it?”
The president chuckled and shook his head. “Of all the things going on in the world, you ask me about that?”
The room erupted, and Logan waited for the laughter to die down before he continued, “Pardon the joke. But no, of course not. My presidency hasn’t been compromised at all by their relationship. Nicole has worked for me since she was in college. She’s like a daughter to me and has kept me informed of things. Adam is no longer with the BBC. Nothing has happened to compromise the integrity of any of the parties involved. I don’t really see the intrigue—other than it’s a nice story.”
And that was that. In the public’s mind, it was a boring scandal, and if the president announced there was no intrigue, only a love story, then it was so.
Chapter Twenty
WHILE I ENDURED THE SLINGS and arrows of the press, Adam was back in England, dealing with his father’s estate. He’d been named executor of the will, so there was work to be done there.
Plus, his mother had decided to leave Cambridge and return to London near her sister, David’s mom. So there was her move to coordinate as well, but both Sylvia and Adam thought it was the best thing for her to move on with her life, and they liked the fact they’d no longer have to make the trip to Cambridge when they were back in England.
It was two weeks before Adam came back to the States, more than enough time for our scandal to fizzle out. Before he arrived home, I’d worked on a surprise for him for days. Though I was bummed to leave Lisa, my heart was elsewhere, and I wanted to be with him.
If only I could’ve been a fly on the wall when it came time, but it was one of those surprises that would work best when he was alone. And he wasn’t going to be alone for long—or ever again.
Adam Kincaid
Washington, DC
May 2009
After two weeks home with Mum, I left Sylvia to finish with the dispersal of Dad’s belongings. I promised to return in a month, but Mum said she was going to Rome with my Aunt Jane. I agreed that a trip out of the country would do her good. Secretly, I was pleased that I could get on with my life. Knowing my mum, that was one of the reasons for her trip.
When I arrived at my flat in DC, I knew I’d have an hour before the dinner date Nicki and I had planned. I went about my usual post-travel routine of divvying up my dirty clothes to take to the cleaners. It was only as I searched for a laundry bag that I noticed there was something different about my bedroom. The furniture is rearranged.
I studied the room. Things had been moved around to fit a new dresser off to the side. I smiled and walked straight toward it. Opening the top drawer, I saw a pile of what I recognized as Nicki’s knickers. I shut it and pulled the next drawer open. There were her T-shirts, nicely folded. On a hunch, I went into my bathroom. Sure enough, Nicki’s toothbrush, hairbrush, and her lotions and potions were stowed in the cabinets and drawers.
When there was a knock at the door, I answered it with a smile. “I don’t know why you knocked. You’ve got a key.”
Nicki grinned and ignored my comment as she walked in. After placing her bag down on the ground, she wrapped her arms around me. “I hope you don’t mind I made myself at home.”
“You are home. With me,” I whispered and kissed her forehead.
Closing her eyes, she laid her head on my shoulder. “I am. Finally.”
Acknowledgments
The writer’s life is supposed to be solitary, but writing this book has been anything but that. Lovely friends have aided me along the way, making it a better, richer story and ensuring that it had commas. Some of these wonderful people include:
My beloved fan fiction community, who a few years ago helped with the beginnings of this book, especially Catherine Waring and Corey Ward.
Azucena Sandoval and Carolina McGoey, who made Juan Carlos the Latin lover that he is.
Daisy Prescott and S.L. Scott, who gave me daily encouragement along with eagle-eye pre-reading.
Elizabeth de Vos, who is a literary scientist in her ability to dissect a manuscript for gaps and inconsistencies.
The wonderful book bloggers out there who urged me on after reading Beside Your Heart. You kept Nicki’s voice so loud in my head that I had to write the sequel from her point of view.
Omnific Publishing—Elizabeth Harper and Enn Bocci, who put up with me, and most importantly, my editor Colleen Wagner, who is the master of the gentle nudge and saucy British sayings.
I’m forever grateful to all of you and a few more who I would add if I had more space and a better memory. Thank you so very much.
About the Author
Even before she graduated from law school, Mary knew she wasn’t cut out to be a real lawyer. Drawn to politics, she’s spent her career as an organizer, lobbyist, and nonprofit executive. Nothing piques her interest more than a good political scandal or romance, and when sh
e stumbled upon writing, she put the two together. A born Midwesterner, naturalized Texan, and transient resident of Washington, D.C., Mary now lives in Northern California with her two daughters and real lawyer husband.
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