Capitol Promises (The Presidential Promises Duet )

by Rebecca Gallo

  I wanted to ask the paramedics what was wrong, what was happening, but I didn’t have to. A language barrier didn’t exist between the concerned looks they were sharing with each other. I didn’t have to be fluent in Finnish to read their body language. This was bad.

  Georgie’s pain was momentarily subsided, but she was whimpering below me. I tried to remain as calm as possible because I didn’t want to scare her. I smoothed hair away from her sweat-soaked forehead and whispered soothing words in her ear.

  “That’s not how I wanted to tell you,” she murmured. “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have to apologize to me, Georgie.”

  “Yes, I do. You deserved better.”

  “No, you deserve better. I didn’t have to act that way.” Whatever medication the paramedics gave her must have started to wear off because she gritted her teeth and grunted through a wave of pain.

  “How much longer?” I demanded of the driver, but he must not have understood me because he didn’t answer.

  I looked down at Georgie whose eyes were closed tightly. I held her hand and prayed silently, bargaining with the powers that be. Let her live, I pleaded. Don’t take her away. I’ll give it all up. I won’t seek a second term, if you just spare her one more time.

  The ambulance jerked to a stop, and the doors swung open. The gurney was pulled from the back, and I was scrambling after it, trying to keep up. Doctors were waiting, and they started a cacophony of dialogue that was hard for me to follow because of the foreign language.

  Hands stopped me in my tracks, and I was ready to fight off whoever belonged to them because I needed to be with Georgie.

  “Whoa, slow down, Mr. President,” the doctor said in a heavily accented voice. I looked up and my rage cooled to a simmer. “The first lady is in good hands. But we need to get her into surgery now.”

  “Why? What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

  “She’s having a miscarriage. Do you know how far along she is?”

  I shook my head lamely. I was selfish and didn’t ask her anything about the pregnancy. “I just found out. I just found out.”

  “It’s okay, sir. She’s in good hands.”

  “What’s going to happen?”

  “My English isn’t too good, I apologize. I will have Dr. Hartley update you.”

  I had no idea what he was even talking about, but he nodded, gave me a tight smile, and then walked away. I was left floundering in a sea of nurses, doctors, and medical staff, all whom spoke an unfamiliar language. Someone grabbed me and escorted me to a private waiting room, where I sat and continued my negotiations with the powers that be.

  If she makes it through this, I won’t seek reelection.

  If she makes it through this, I’ll marry her.

  If she makes it through this…

  If she makes it through this…

  Slowly, people started to trickle in. Lewis and Jenkins, Secret Service agents; they all filed into the room one by one.

  For ninety minutes, I sat in silent agony, praying. Negotiating. I couldn’t lose her.

  The door to the waiting room opened, and everyone stood, except me. Dr. Hartley, dressed in blue scrubs, stepped inside and looked around until her eyes landed on me.

  “President Martin?” she asked cautiously.

  I stood and held out my hand. “Today, I’m just Jameson. How’s my girl?”

  “Ms. Washington is in recovery. She’s doing fine. The doctors went in and removed the embryo. They were concerned because of the severe cramping and blood, but there is still a chance for children in the future. They’re going to keep her overnight, just to keep an eye on her, since there was a significant amount of bleeding. You can go and see her now,” the doctor informed me.

  I breathed out a heavy sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

  The doctor held open the door, and we shook hands before parting ways. A nurse guided me wordlessly to the recovery room.

  “She’s the only one in here,” the nurse said. I smiled politely and then stepped into the cold, sterile room.

  Even with a pale, waxy complexion, Georgie was the most gorgeous girl I had ever seen. I reached into my pocket and took out the ring that one of the paramedics handed to me. I approached her cautiously because she looked peaceful but pained. I didn’t want to disturb her too much.

  I reached for her left hand and carefully slipped the diamond and emerald ring back onto her left ring finger. Then I brought her hand up to my lips and kissed her fingers gingerly. And then I fell to my knees.

  Thank you, God, for getting her through this.

  Thank you, God, for giving me another day with her.

  Thank you, God, for bringing me this rare and remarkable woman.

  Thank you, God…

  “Jameson.” My head jerked up at the sound of her voice. It was a hoarse whisper, but it was like a balm to my frayed nerves. “Jameson.”

  “Shh, little darling. Shh. I’m here.”

  She smiled weakly and I stood, shuffling a few steps to the edge of her bed. I leaned over and kissed the top of her head, letting my lips linger there for more than just a moment.

  “I told you not to cancel your trip.”

  “I’m terrible at listening to you,” I said with a smile.

  There was absolutely no way that I would be able to continue negotiations with foreign dignitaries and leaders while Georgie was in Finland being manipulated by Maxwell Edison. I couldn’t remain silent and passive while my administration was infiltrated by Russian oligarchs with too much money and not enough power to satiate their egos.

  “I’m so happy you’re here,” she said with a lopsided grin. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you too.” I knew that the pain medication was making her a little loopy because I could hardly believe that she missed me, knowing how angry she was after I left. But there was still truth to her words, and once the medication had worn off, there wouldn’t be any way to hide some very painful facts.

  A group of nurses came in to check on Georgie and then moved her to a private room. The rooms on either side of her and across the hall were vacated for security purposes, so we practically had the entire floor to ourselves. I stayed by her side while she drifted in and out.

  A steady stream of doctors and nurses constantly checked on her and briefly chatted with us when she was awake, but we were mostly left alone. There was nothing but us and the terrible promise of what might have been.

  “I’m sorry, Jameson,” Georgie moaned.

  I sat up at the sound of her voice. I was sitting in the most uncomfortable recliner, trying and failing to rest.

  I scooted the chair closer to her and saw that her cheeks were wet from tears. I whispered nonsense and stroked the wetness away with the pads of my thumbs. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” I assured her.

  “I shouldn’t have told you like that. I should have waited until we both calmed down. You deserved better.”

  “Don’t worry about that, Georgie. We both made mistakes. I could have handled things better.” I took her hand gingerly, mindful of the IV attached to it, and kissed the back of it.

  “We could have been a family,” she cried, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “We will be a family. Just not right now. I promise.”

  She nodded, and I swiped the fresh tears from her cheeks, replacing them with soft kisses.

  “I want to marry you, Georgie. Now. Today. As soon as possible. I’m done waiting until I figure out my shit. I can’t live another minute of my life without you as my wife. Say yes, Georgie. Please.”

  “No.”

  Georgie

  Jameson dropped my hand so fast, like it scalded him, and all the color drained from his face. He sat back in the chair, stunned.

  “No? I thought you wanted to get married.”

  “I do, but not like this, Jameson. I don’t want our marriage to be a reaction to something. I want it to be real and honest.” I reached out for his hand,
which he reluctantly gave to me. I held it tightly in my own, cherishing the feel of his skin against mine. “I want to marry you when some kind of turmoil isn’t propelling us down the aisle. It doesn’t have to be big, but it has to feel right.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Jameson, you told me that the day we got married would be the happiest day of your life. Does today feel like that day?”

  He ran a hand across his face and then blew out a breath. “No. I feel like I just survived the worst day of my life.”

  Then he leaned forward and brushed the hair away from my face. Our eyes met, and I could see two watery pools of blue brimming with so much unshed emotion. “I’m sorry that it always has to be this way. I’m sorry that I have to feel you slipping away first before I finally realize the simplest of answers was staring me in the face all along.”

  “You don’t have to apologize, Jameson. Sometimes our relationship blinds me, too. We take each other for granted. It happens.”

  “Not anymore, Georgie. You’re the most important thing in my life.”

  “What about the country? They need you too.”

  “Maybe that’s the problem, then. Maybe I shouldn’t be president anymore.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath. “Jameson, what are you saying?”

  Jameson’s term as president had hardly begun; he was just getting started on creating some of the policies that would finally put our country back on the right track. Was he going to resign?

  “I’ll finish out this term, but I won’t seek reelection. Being president was my dream and that dream became reality, partly because of you. But I’m not a kid anymore. I know what I want, Georgie. And it’s not to be the president. It’s to be your husband.”

  “Will you promise me something?” I asked him. This felt like another knee-jerk reaction, and if I could stop him from making a monumental mistake, then I would.

  “Of course. Anything.”

  “Will you promise me that you’ll think about that before you actually do it? The past twenty-four hours have been hell, and I don’t want you making snap decisions. You wanted to drop out after the shooting, too.”

  “Georgie …” he whined.

  “Jameson, I love you, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, but I don’t want to spend that life wondering if you resent me.”

  “I could never resent you, Georgie.”

  “Never say never,” I scolded him.

  The nurses coming in to make their rounds and check my vitals and pain level interrupted us; it was an annoying flurry of activity that I wanted to stop. I just wanted to be alone with Jameson.

  “I can’t wait to get out of here,” I pouted after the nurses left. I sneered at the dinner tray they left for me. It was like the Finnish people had never heard of cheeseburgers or tiramisu. It was all terribly bland and healthy. Or fish. I never wanted to look at a piece of fish again. “The food is terrible.”

  Jameson chuckled loudly, and for the first time in a long while, his smile filled his entire face and reached his eyes. “Chef Zanetti spoils you.”

  “Jameson,” I whispered.

  “Yes, little darling?”

  “I don’t want to talk anymore, okay? I just want you to climb on here with me and hold me.”

  “I could think of nothing better.”

  I scooted over as much as I could and waited for Jameson to settle his too-large body on what seemed like the world’s smallest bed. Then I curled into him, wrapping myself up in his warmth and his familiar clean, spicy scent.

  Being discharged from the hospital the next morning was one of the best feelings in the world. I was ready to rid myself of the itchy hospital gown and to take a real shower, or even soak in a real tub overflowing with bubbles.

  The way Jameson doted on me was cute, and I’m not too proud to admit that I didn’t enjoy the attention. The President of the United States set aside being the leader of the greatest nation on Earth in order to take care of me. He ended an extremely important diplomatic trip, where nuclear arms could have been sacrificed and human lives saved, for me. For once, I didn’t mind being treated like a fragile porcelain doll.

  I noticed the way our normally electric connection crackled back to life the moment my hand slipped into his as Jameson lead me from the hospital and into the back of the armored black limousine. Our bodies gravitated toward each other in the back seat. I tucked my feet up next to me and leaned into him, resting my head on his chest.

  From the hospital, we bypassed the hotel where I had been staying and went right to a private airfield where Air Force One was waiting. Slowly, I walked up the stairs with Jameson’s hand protectively on my back, guiding me up. I made my way inside the spacious privacy of the cabin and headed straight for the bedroom. Jameson was going to work, and I was going to sleep. I couldn’t think of a better arrangement. I woke up midway through the flight to find Jameson sound asleep next to me, his hand resting protectively over my middle, right over where our child would have been growing. I covered his hand with mine and sighed heavily. What had he thought when I told him that I was pregnant? Was he excited and happy? For now, I was content not to have those answers.

  As we returned to the White House in the early morning hours, we both ignored the furious clicking of camera shutters. How did they even know we were back? Why were they even waiting for us at such a late hour? I’m not naïve enough to assume that my brief hospital stay in a foreign country went unnoticed, and Jameson’s attentiveness as I emerged from the back of the car could not be ignored. I’d worry about what statement would be released later. Right now, I wanted to crawl into the big bed of our private suite and sleep for days.

  “Welcome home, Ms. Washington,” Barrett Lawson greeted me softly. His smile was sweet, but his eyes were full of concern.

  I placed a hand on his cheek and returned the smile. “Thank you, Barrett. You know what I’d love right now?”

  “Warm chocolate chip cookies and a glass of chocolate milk?”

  “You read my mind.”

  “I’ll let Chef Zanetti know.”

  I turned back to Jameson, leaning into him. “My energy is zapped. I think I’m going to take a nap while those cookies bake.”

  Jameson surprised me by lifting me up into his arms. I squeaked as I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck. “I’d better make sure you get there safely.”

  “You don’t have to carry me, Jameson.”

  “Consider this practice.”

  Jameson

  My gorgeous girl was resting comfortably, but I was a mess. My personal inner turmoil was a fierce storm raging inside me. After I made sure that Georgie was sleeping, I retreated to my private study with my favorite bottle of scotch. But even that couldn’t stop the battle.

  I picked up my desk phone and called the one person who could provide the guidance I would need at this moment. “We just got back. Can you come to the private residence? There’s something I need to discuss with you.”

  Twenty minutes later, Elias Garcia walked into my office.

  “How’s Georgie doing?”

  “She’s fine. She fell asleep as soon as we got home.”

  “I’m sorry for the loss, Jameson.”

  “Thank you.”

  “How did you feel about Georgie being pregnant?”

  I hadn’t given much thought to Georgie being pregnant once she started to miscarry. I was more concerned with losing her than anything. While I was in the Middle East, I couldn’t stop thinking about becoming a father. How unexpected it was and how, despite it being something joyous, it didn’t feel right.

  “It wasn’t the right time. We’re not ready for that. We have some serious growing to do. That’s what I’ve learned since becoming president. I can lead this country; I can command an army. But I’m a shitty fiancé. I’ve neglected what was important to me for so long.”

  “Well, but you obviously didn’t neglect her that much if she was pregnant.” One of his eyebrows shot
up, and I laughed at his innuendo.

  “That was just selfishness on my part. And I guess all this kind of leads up to what I wanted to discuss with you.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “I don’t think I’m going to run for a second term.”

  If Elias was shocked, then he didn’t show it. Instead, he looked almost relieved.

  “Elias? Why aren’t you jumping up and down, yelling and telling me that I’m crazy?”

  “Maybe because I don’t want to run against you a second time.”

  Now it was my turn to be shocked. I sat back in my leather desk chair, stunned. “Well, fuck. I think you just trumped my news.”

  “I’ve been considering running as an Independent in the next election. There is a part of me that deeply wants to be president, and I don’t think I can ignore it. I’ll be the first to admit that I caved to the Republicans when I hastily entered the race after Huntley. I want to run on my own terms now, spread my own message to America.”

  “I think that America deserves to have a president like you, Elias. If you win,” I said with a smirk.

  “Do you think DeWayne will take up your mantle and run for the Democrats?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t told him yet.”

  “So you really don’t want a second term, James? One term was enough?”

  I held my hands out in front of me, palms facing up. “Look at what it’s almost cost me. We’ve been at this for almost a year, and people still won’t leave Georgie alone.”

  Elias must have sensed that I was talking about Maxwell Edison. “And what’s happening with Edison? It’s not every day that the president beats the shit out of the Secretary of Education.”

  “Former Secretary of Education. And it’s being handled. He’s keeping his mouth shut because he knows that if he opens it, the entire world will know that he is a spineless, treasonous piece of shit.”

  “Did he know that she was pregnant?”

  I closed my eyes and inhaled sharply. “Yes, he did. He used that information to manipulate her.”