Part 15 (2/2)
Heads rise from their scribbles.
I know they can tell I'm talking about more than policy now.
I know these reporters, and they know me.
Some of them I grew up with. Some of them were with me in college. Some, even, I've known since my father was here.
Oh yes, they know me.
”I'm sure it may not be a surprise,” I say, clearly and succinctly, meeting their eyes as candidly as I can. ”I am in love with the first lady of the United States. At the moment, a dozen vans from District florists are pulling up at the White House, and the staffers are helping me fill up her room. I'm going to ask her to marry me. Today.” I smile and lean closer to the microphone. ”If you have any extra time, say a little prayer that she agrees.”
”Go get her, Mr. President!” someone yells.
”I will.” I grin.
I show them the ring from my pocket. ”My father's mother had two large diamond earrings, which she gave to my father. The first diamond, he gave to my mother. The other to me. I want it on her finger. I've measured and calculated, and I think I've got the size right.” The thought that I may not makes me frown as I look at the ring, then I shake my head as I tuck it away. ”And don't think I'm asking her because Jacobs said I needed a first lady-though it's true I like the outfits she wears.”
The correspondents laugh.
I chuckle too, and lean into the mic again.
”I think she is marvelous. She is untouched by politics, unmarred and untainted. She is absolutely, brilliantly humble. Honest, hardworking. And it would be my honor that she accept to be my wife. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a country to govern and a woman to woo.”
”Which is the most difficult, President Hamilton?”
”The latter, for sure.” I grin again, then nod. ”Good day, ladies and gentlemen.”
”When's the wedding?”
”As soon as possible. Today if I have my way.”
22.
ROSE GARDEN.
Charlotte The White House smells of roses. In fact, the East Wing of the White House where I usually work is filled with them. We got back a week ago and I don't think I've ever watched so many staffers, one after the other, pile into the room with more and more flowers.
”What is this? Is there a state dinner somebody forgot to tell me about?” I ask, panicked.
Clarissa's eyes go to the door, and Matt is there, lounging casually, looking at me.
I gulp.
Clarissa scurries out of the room, along with the rest of the staffers.
Intense emotion forces its way into his eyes. ”Did you like my welcome home gift?”
”I didn't leave home. I mean, I did, but I got home a week ago.”
”That's right. You're home for good. At least until my term is over. You're home with me.”
He starts walking.
”Don't, Matt.” I don't know what's happening, but I'm not sure I've ever seen that particularly fierce look in his eyes before.
”Then come here.” He pulls me close. ”I love you. I love you and I want to marry you.” He inhales, kissing my jaw.
He slips something into his mouth and then takes my hand, lifts my finger to his mouth, and works a ring onto my finger with his tongue.
I gasp, my heart hammering. He licks the finger base to tip.
”Hmm. You taste good.”
”Matthew . . . the country-”
”They're all holding their breaths, waiting to know if you said yes.”
”What? You're crazy!”
”For you.”
I stare at him, stunned.
”They know, Charlotte; they've known for a long time how I feel about you. It's nothing I'm ashamed of, nothing I can hide anymore-nor do I want you to.” He slips his hand over mine, and we watch our fingers link together. Mine and his.
”You are the man of my dreams, Matthew Hamilton,” I blurt out, still sort of reeling. A tear escapes.
”No more tears, not for me.”
”I'm just happy. I'm so happy. Did you mean it when you said everyone was waiting?”
”Everyone. It's probably on TV by now.”
”What?” I turn on the TV.
”Our President Hamilton is proposing to the first lady and we're waiting with bated breath to hear!”
Placards say I'LL MARRY YOU, HAMMY!
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