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“You’re welcome,” my sister chuckles as she flops on the bed beside me. “I messaged her the second I was dismissed.”
“First things first, at least he’s drop-dead gorgeous.” Luna says, her almost black eyes scanning the images on her screen. There was a time in our teens when people thought we were cousins or sisters, but as we got older, my dark brown hair and light brownish green eyes stayed the same, while her colors got darker and darker. Her whole vibe is beyond beautiful or regal. She’s mysterious and powerful. And I’m…pretty?
I’m reserved, calm, thoughtful. I’m maternal and try my best to be graceful, queenly. But damn if there aren’t days I wish I had her killer confidence, or my sister’s brash indifference. My sister and Luna start to gush about my husband-to-be’s statuesque features.
Both of them are snarky, rebellious, feisty.
That’s not me.
That doesn’t make me weak, I remind myself. They both talk a big game, loudly. Meanwhile I’ve faced actual hell. Actual danger and drama. I dealt with it. I overcame it. I handled it, secretly, privately. Like a queen would.
Still, it would’ve been lovely to not have had to handle it at all.
I shudder at the past, and my sister grabs my arm, trying to comfort me about the issue of the present. “Come on, Ellie, he’s not so bad, is he?”
“How should I know?” I say with a smile. “What have you found, Lu?”
“Well, he’s not so different from one of us, except he’s very, like, on the radar about it.” She pauses, sending me some links. “My dad, your dad, your uncle, they go to the same events, same types of meetings, but they’re never photographed, never written about, meanwhile…”
“I see it.” I cut her off, scrolling through image after image of "Mark White and..." According to these articles, he’s some kind of American prince. And not just to Texans. He’s everywhere, all the time, always with his Texas pin and his stunning face and styled hair, and always with a stunning woman on his arm.
“He’s tied for youngest US senator in history at 35, loved by gossip mags and political pundits both.” She mutters, still scanning articles. “Let’s look at his platform.”
“His political platform?” I ask.
“Yes. Gorgeous, gorgeous girls care about public policy.”
I frown at her, “What?”
“She doesn’t have social media, she doesn’t get the reference, Lu.” My sister rolls her eyes and explains. “She means it’s not okay to ignore politics anymore.”
“Correct, and he ran as an independent. I don’t agree with a few points, but I don’t see any major red flag type of deal breakers.” Luna reports.
“Uhhh, except the one where he is about to be in bed with the Spanish mafia?” My sister laughs.
“Literally!” Luna laughs too.
“I’m glad you all are enjoying this, and don’t think we’re not coming back to how, or since when, haveyouhad social media?” I shove my shoulder into Mia’s next to me. “Anything else helpful in figuring out, you know, my entire life and marriage and future?”
“Sorry. Right. Let’s see…fancy family from Texas, old money. Cattle and oil it looks like. But moved into the tech space in a big way. Daddy White was a senator too. Only child, went to Columbia and then Texas for law school.”
“What does he want with us?” Mia asks, revealing her age. As if we’d be able to find or dig deep enough online to figure out the answer.
“That’s always the million dollar question that we, as women, won’t ever be privy to.” Luna grumbles.
“Any military service?” I ask, unable to quit scanning all of the Papárazzi images. So much skin on his arm. Legs for days, cleavage for weeks.
“Nope.”
“Huh.” I’m surprised. Again, this is not what I was expecting. I was ready to marry a modern day warrior and instead he’s a, what, desk jockey? A talking head?
“Fit like a soldier though.Mmm hmm.”
“Lu!” I laugh at my friend who is literally licking her lips at her screen.
“What! He rows, runs, golfs, and by the looks of it, he keeps up his weight training too. Look at his arms!” She messages us a photo of him at a crosswalk in D.C. with his phone to his ear. His bicep bulges in his jacket sleeve.Well then.I’m about to lick my lips myself.
“Maybe he just buys suits that are a size too small.” Mia snorts at her own joke.
