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“Yes, sir.”
He went into the bathroom that adjoined the Oval to splash cold water on his face and drag himself out of memories he tried hard to never revisit. Nothing good ever came of that. In the past, he would turn to bourbon to numb himself whenever she reappeared out of the ether to turn his life upside down.
Since that wasn’t an option now, he needed to buck up and get through this last meeting of the day before he could go home to his family. They always made him feel better, no matter what he was dealing with. He pulled the BlackBerry he used to communicate with Sam from his suit coat pocket and saw the text she’d sent a couple of hours ago.
His spirits sagged when he realized she might get home late.
When he felt like this, she was the only one who could make it go away.
I’m ok, but I’ll be better when you get home. See you when we see you,he wrote in reply.Be safe out there. Your husband loves you very much.
After he sent the text, Nick stared at his reflection in the mirror. “You’re the POTUS,” he said. “The fucking president of the United States of America. The leader of the free world. She can’t touch you unless you let her.”
“Letting her” had always been the problem. He had no control over his reactions to her, and that infuriated him more than anything. At times like this, he was right back in that cramped apartment in Lowell, Massachusetts, with a grandmother who didn’t want him and a mother who came and went from his life with no regard for how her long absences affected him.
He took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm his mind and settle his emotions so he could meet with the vice president and be done with this day from hell.
His five minutes were up, so he returned to the Oval Office just as Jenn brought in Gretchen Henderson.
Nick put a smile on his face and went to shake hands with his VP. “Good to see you, Gretchen.”
“You as well, sir.”
“Can we get you anything?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“Thanks, Jenn,” Nick said to the admin.
“My pleasure, Mr. President.”
He and Gretchen sat on sofas that faced each other. Today, she wore a sharp red pantsuit and had her dark hair up in an elegant twist.
“I’m not sure what to say about the latest headlines,” Gretchen said tentatively.
“There’s nothing to say. It is what it is, which is what I’ve been saying all my life where she’s concerned.”
“I’m sorry you have to deal with it.”
“Thank you, but I’ve learned not to let her get to me. How are things with you? Are you settling in at the Naval Observatory?”
“We are. The kids love it, even if they’re not sure how they feel about the Secret Service agents yet.”
“I’m sure they’ll come to see them as friends before too long.”
“I hope so. It’s a tender age to suddenly be surrounded by security.”
“Yes, it is.” He tried to recall the ages of her children. Twelve and fourteen, maybe?
“Anyway,” she said, “I asked for this meeting in the hope that we might touch base once a week so I can learn more about how I can be supportive of your agenda.”
“I’m eager to have your assistance anywhere you feel you can make an impact. Do you have ideas about where you’d like to focus your efforts?”
“As the nation’s first female vice president, I’d like to use my platform to support women in any way that I can, especially working mothers. I was so pleased to hear at the State of the Union that government-assisted childcare is part of your legislative agenda. Finding safe, affordable childcare is a barrier that keeps so many women out of the workforce who might otherwise be pursuing careers.”
The comment took him back in time to being in day care as a young child while his grandmother was still working. He recalled the place being somewhat sketchy, but it was all they could afford.
“Mr. President?”
