Marriage (Red, White &) Blues (Unexpectedly Married #2)

Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

“ H ow many stops on the campaign?” I asked Blake over lunch. He surprised me with a classic Italian sub and kettle-cooked chips, which happened to be the first I’d talked to my husband since Candice Reed left. No, it wasn’t Blake’s fault, but I needed some alone time to fully come to grips with the fact that I was expected to go to a dress fitting in the morning for a campaign fundraising dinner .

“Jesus, Glory… I’m so sorry,” he replied again.

Shaking my head, I stood up and rounded the table. He pushed back his chair, allowing me to drop onto his lap. I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him.

“Stop, Blake. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

He looked at me with his “ Are you serious? ” eyes.

Yes, I was serious.

“You’re being forced into this too.”

“I grew up with all this. You… Their doing this to be vindictive.”

“Listen, I could’ve not American-married you. I met the family. I knew what they were about from that first night when your father showed up here. No, I wouldn’t say I’m super geeked to get fitted for a dress and have to go to a donor dinner. But at the end of the night, I’ll be here, sleeping next to you—the man I married. The man I love. I can handle it.”

It was sort of the truth. More like I hoped I could handle it, but he didn’t need to know that part.

“It’s sweet that you think you’ll be sleeping, Mrs. Parker,” Blake replied and we both laughed. I refused to let his family or a campaign come between me and my husband. We were in this together. We had to be.

“You still didn’t answer my question, Blake. How many stops?”

He blew out a breath. “It’s a presidential race. My guess is as many as they can fit in right up until election day.”

I nodded once. “Okay. What’s a few months?”

“It’s a few months in our first year of marriage. First years have an adjustment period and campaigns are known to be stressful.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” I asked. I knew he wasn’t.

“What?” he practically shouted. “No. Never…” His shoulders slumped. “I just want you to have all the facts.”

“Do you love me?” I asked.

“You know I do.”

“Okay. Well, here’s what I propose. Yes, this will be a challenge for us, so we talk every night . A sanity check. Making sure we’re both hanging in there.”

“Good idea.”

“We should come up with a word. Something that only you and I would know and would say. It’s a word that means the speaker is hanging on by a thread and needs to leave ASAP. Then we take a couple of days to recharge, and we rejoin the next family shindig once we’re feeling better.”

“You just suggested a safe word.”

“I’m being serious, Blake.”

“I know, sweetheart. And I have to say, I like the idea of a safe word with you.”

Right. I shoved up off his lap to go back to my sandwich. “You’re an idiot.”

And how did my husband respond to my little dig? “Mingati.”

I laughed. “What?”

“Mingati. That’s our word. No one on the campaign trail is going to know that name. If you or I are about ready to go all Hulk smash , then we say, ‘ Mingati .’ You’ll whisk me away or I’ll whisk you away for a weekend. Then we’ll come back refreshed and ready to tackle the road again.”

Mingati. It was as good a word as any, seeing as Mingati happened to be the reason for me living in Vermont to begin with.

“Mingati,” I said.

“Already?” he asked. “We just got started.”

“Will it work?”

“Probably not yet.”

“Didn’t think so,” I replied right before taking a big bite of sandwich.

We had a campaign safe word.

I wished he’d been around to hear me mumbling it the next morning when I was being stuck with pins while Morgan Ashley complained about my size and how his designs were meant for a “ streamlined figure .” Okay, so I had hips and a bit of a tummy. Sue me. Wealth certainly didn’t buy kindness.

Yesterday, when Candice said the car would be there promptly at ten—truth bomb. I woke up way earlier than necessary, dressed and waited in the living room, deciding to not allow myself to use the bathroom after 9:30. Some might call it an overreaction, but Robert threatened my mom over an anonymous vote. I shuddered to think of who he’d hurt if I was late. My nerves calmed with seeing Jupiter in the car.

The hour to Burlington made for an informative ride. My sister-in-law told me all kinds of stories about my husband. For instance, he had a speech impediment growing up. Many kids do, but his parents found it embarrassing, thus sent him off for an intensive eight-month therapy program at six years old. Parents of the year.

Morgan Ashley, the superstar designer, used his NYC studio for celebrities but kept a Burlington shop for his rich political clients who didn’t want to associate with anyone in the entertainment industry. I was told he’d grown up here. This should’ve been an exciting time for me to get a custom dress made by one of the biggest designers in existence. His designs showed up on red carpets around the world, but the man had the personality of a bear with diarrhea and hemorrhoids, and the patience of a pissed-off copperhead. I just wanted to go home.

After far too many hours, he took a step back from me, looked at his work, and declared with a flip of his hand in the air, “It’ll just have to be good enough.”

My chin jutted back. I wore a size ten. Okay, so I wasn’t Pen, Sierra, or Jupiter thin, but I’d hardly consider myself overly large. My husband loved my curves. And really, how great could he be if he couldn’t work with any body type?

When he finished with me, the day got even better— not —to all his ooh ing and aah ing over Perfect Jupiter, his muse. “So beautiful!” and “My masterpiece!” Yes, we know. Jupiter, good. Gloria, bad.

After that self-esteem boost, she had the audacity to ask me out to lunch. I eyed her up and down. “I don’t think I’m eating ever again.”

“That’s maybe not the best course of action,” she said. “My brother would hate it. Aside from the whole death thing, he’s a fan of your curves.”

“Death would kind of suck.”

“It’d put a real damper on your marriage,” she teased.

I sighed. “ Fine . I won’t give up food completely.”

“Don’t let him get to you. Morgan’s an asshole—a highly talented asshole, but an asshole nonetheless.”

“Says the size two.”

“I’m a Parker woman, I’m not allowed to have them.”

“Have them?”

“Curves.”

“I’m a Parker now, too.”

“You’re a Parker married to Blake. It’s not remotely the same.”

Folding my arms over my chest, I cocked a hip and Jupiter Parker became the next recipient of my most incredulous ‘ really? ’ glare. I hardcore, hardcore glared.

“Listen,” she said, “I’m not going to pretend I’m nice or even a relatively good person—but I like you. My brother is happy with you around. Given that Brock is Robert Junior in all the ways, Blake and I had to stick together. I love my brother. You love my brother. Very, very differently, thank God, but still.”

“I appreciate it.”

“I know. And let’s face it, eventually, you and Blake will pop out a couple of urchins of your own. And you’ll really need me in your camp. You’ll be connected to the Parkers for life.”

“Urchins?” I asked, snickering. “You mean children?”

“Yes,” she replied exasperatedly. “My brother has always had this fantasy of having a family of his own. I don’t know why.” She shuddered, wrinkling her beautiful nose. “But he has.”

“You don’t like children?” I asked.

“ God no —I have no idea why anyone would purposely put themselves through that hell. They’re your responsibility for at minimum eighteen years. That’s a prison sentence.”

That got me. One of those deep belly laughs. Jupiter and I had very different views on child-rearing. “You’ve been so nice to Lauden and Corrine.”

“ Ugh … they’re the only ones I can stomach and I didn’t like them until they got past all that crying.”

“So, cross your name off the list for babysitters, then?”

“Unless you want me to literally sit on your baby, which I fear is illegal and would probably send me to actual prison—and let me just say, orange is not the new black. It’s a gaudy color. I never wear it—then I think you know the answer to that.”

Good to know.

We ended up going for sushi. Healthy. Filling. And it didn’t leave me with a complex after seeing what Jupiter ordered. I’d put that in the win category.

Despite her insistence that she wasn’t a good person, I liked Jupiter. She kept the conversation lively with stories of her life pre campaign.

“Because nothing fulfills me more in life than aggravating my parents, I chose Princeton over Harvard. Talk about a scandal. After four years, I left with a degree in comparative literature—not that they expect me to work.”

“What do they expect you to do?’ I asked.

“Join the family business.”

“But isn’t that Parker Holdings?”

“Oh, I should amend—joining the family business for women .”

“Which is?”

“Finding a rich and powerful husband. The rich and powerful love to get richer and more powerful by joining families.”

That, I knew from Pen and Ant’s relationship. “ Two powerful families becoming one .” Ugh… Both the McCains and Von Duttons shoved that down their children’s throats practically since birth. Only, Pen wasn’t supposed to marry Stanton. Her older sister Gretchen was. Gretchen skipping town a month before the wedding turned out to have been the best thing in the world for the three of them.

“And you’re okay with that?”

“The only part that bothers me is spawning crotch goblins.”

I spit out my water that I’d just taken a sip of, coughing and choking. “ Crotch goblins ? How did they go from urchins to crotch goblins?”

“They’re urchins when you can send them home. But I guess that’s what nannies are for.” She popped a salmon covered sushi log into her mouth. She certainly kept me entertained for the duration of the lunch.

When I got home, I was met by my doting husband, who, knowing I needed it, whisked me up to the bathroom for a bubble bath, a bubble bath for two. Let’s just say the night went even better.

Finally, Saturday showed its ugly face, intruding on our lives. Maisie helped me into the V-neck, floor-length chiffon dress. I had to give it to the man, Morgan did beautiful work. The bodice he’d made from hand-sewn Italian lace and a flowing skirt with a long slit up the front. As I’d gone with lavender, he’d encrusted the lace with purple gems, and the belt around the waist was encrusted with diamond-esque rhinestones—at least I hoped they were rhinestones. I felt like a princess. My hair I’d done in a low side bun with curly tendrils framing my face, and I wore lavender silk sandals with a four-inch heel.

Seeing as I had a sort of dab hand at makeup, I chose to do it myself, expertly keeping it soft and elegant.

When I met my handsome husband down in the foyer, he threw a hand to his heart as his mouth dropped open. It took him several seconds to say anything, and when he did—God, I loved my husband.

“There are no words,” he said. “You are truly stunning—the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

I smiled.

“Oh, no, you can’t do that. You smile at me like that and then I have to march you upstairs to make love to you. We’ll end up missing the dinner—which would probably be better for the other women in attendance.”

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“You’ll give them a complex. Every woman who sees you tonight will know down to the very depth of her soul that she will never be as beautiful in her life as you are tonight.”

“Smooth talker.”

He shook his head. “Not smooth. Truthful. Glory, you’re a vision.”

“You clean up nicely, too, Blake Parker.” And he did, wearing his full, formal black tux. Here, I thought he looked good in a suit. In a tux, we were talking otherworldly, next-level, sophisticated hotness. “How did I get so lucky?” I asked.

“I’m the lucky one.” He held his hand out to me. “Shall we, Mrs. Parker?”

I smiled at him again, taking his hand. “Lead the way.”

The night went… exactly how one would expect a fundraising dinner to go. We entered a gorgeous ballroom with one half of the room set up for dinner and the other for dancing. They’d hired a small orchestra for the evening. Rich old men and their wives milled about the room congratulating each other on being so obscenely rich. Or that was how I imagined the conversations were going. Blake pointed out a younger man whom he knew and steered us in his direction.

“Blake.” The man greeted my husband. He wore a black tux but had draped a white scarf around his shoulders and wore his sandy-blond hair slicked back as if he were in one of those extravagant parties from The Great Gatsby rather than at a pretentious dinner. They shook hands and the man patted Blake’s arm at the same time. “I’d ask what you’ve been up to, but it’s been all over the news.”

“Yes,” my husband said. “Alexander, this is my wife, Gloria. Gloria, this is Alexander Rake. We attended Harvard together.”

The way Alexander looked me up and down left me feeling ten kinds of ick and like I needed to shower, like he was undressing me with his eyes. “Gloria,” the man said and revulsion trilled down my spine. “I hope you’ll save a dance for me tonight.”

“Sorry, man,” Blake said, coming to my rescue. “We’re on the campaign. She can only dance with me. PR rules.”

“I get it,” he replied, winking at me and I wanted to leave. Or puke. Blake understood without me ever having to say a word. He escorted us to a table, where his sister and Emily sat. No puking required. I wasn’t all that crazy about spending the evening with Emily, but I smiled brightly at Jupiter.

“Why would you subject your wife to Alexander?” Jupiter asked instead of greeting Blake with an appropriate hello .

He shrugged. “We know each other. Isn’t that the point of this dinner? He’s the current CEO of his father’s multi-million-dollar corporation.”

“He was looking at your wife like she was a juicy steak and he came ready to eat.”

“ Ugh …as if,” Emily said under her breath. “Alexander Rake is a dog in a tux. He’ll sleep with anything with a vagina.” She made a point to look directly at me when she emphasized the word ‘anything.’

“You both look beautiful tonight,” I said rather than comment back because what was the point? She hadn’t been this outwardly hostile in the time I’d known her, but I figured it wouldn’t be the last time.

“Don’t mind Em,” Jupiter said. “Alexander hasn’t hit on her in years.”

I threw a hand to my mouth trying to conceal a laugh. Wrong thing to do. Bad, bad Gloria. Emily glared at me. The death kind. Oh, boy, we were in for a fun night.

Before dinner, I dutifully worked the room with my husband. Thankfully, I had Von Dutton and McCain connections. I discussed how I’d known both families most of my life and spent time with them last year at Penelope and Stanton’s wedding—only a partial lie. I spent time talking with Pen and Ant, but kept well away from their parents.

This part of the game I knew how to play. Thankfully, they announced dinner would be served, so Blake and I found a table with Jupiter away from Mr. and Mrs. Parker, Brockton, and Emily.

“Who was a little social butterfly tonight?” Jupiter said to me. “Better watch out, brother. Half the men in here are looking to charm your little wifey out of her pants.”

I coughed, choking on my drink. “That’s not going to be a problem. My pants only come off for Blake. Besides, have you seen the pool here tonight? Forget that most are old enough to be my grandfather. You have to have noticed that Blake, and to a lesser extent, Brockton are the most attractive men in the room.”

“You don’t have to remind me,” she replied.

“I know I don’t. It’s why you’re sitting here with us right now—” I threw my hand over my mouth, shocked that I’d made such a dig. But Blake and Jupiter both laughed, so I guessed it was fine.

“I like your spunk,” she said. “We just might make a Parker out of you yet.”

“She’s as much Parker as she ever needs to be,” my husband corrected. Okay, so maybe tonight wasn’t as bad as I’d built up in my head. I wouldn’t call it a roaring good time, but with Blake and Jupiter around, I didn’t hate it.

But by the end of the night, with all the dancing and schmoozing, I felt ready to drop. As we were heading out, we stopped off to let the rest of the family know about us leaving. Brockton and Emily never even said thank you for coming.

Mrs. Parker said to Blake, “Candice will be delivering the travel itinerary.” Nothing to me.

Mr. Parker, however, he spoke to me— oh, boy . “You didn’t screw up tonight,” he said. “Maybe bringing you along on the campaign won’t end up a colossal mistake.”

I simply smiled as my husband whisked me out of there. Once we were in the car, I let out a long breath. “You are so lucky I love you, Blake.”

“I’m sorry, babe. I?—”

“Oh, no, I don’t want your apology,” I said, cutting him off. His face fell. “I expect super-hot, ‘ my family are idiots ’ alpha in the sheets sex when we get home. And I’m warning you now, it will include the hot tub.”

“If I’m the alpha, then you be a good girl and do what I tell you. You don’t tell me.” he teased.

“We aren’t home yet. Alpha time starts when the clothes come off.”

He smirked, showing me his dimple. “Duly noted.”

“Honestly, it wasn’t that bad tonight. I still expect ‘ my family are idiots ’ sex, but the rest was okay.”

“You never cease to amaze me.”

“Well, your sister is highly entertaining. Did I tell you she calls children urchins ? And that the only children she can remotely tolerate are Lauden and Corrine? And that we should only call her for babysitting duty if we actually want her to sit on our baby?”

“So I guess this means we’re on the same page about having children, we’ve never really talked about it—at least not since we’ve been married.”

“I’ve always wanted at least a couple. I was an only child but I don’t want that for my family.”

“Glory, you’ll give me beautiful babies that my sister will beg to watch. She talks tough, but she’s a total softy, especially when it comes to Lauden and Corrine. Don’t let her fool you. She’s aunt of the year when she thinks no one is paying attention—and she doesn’t even like Brock or Emily. Imagine how spoiled our kids will be.”

“We may need to take an extended vacation in Europe when we decide to have them. I’m worried your family will have me assassinated before the baby could be born.”

“ What ?”

“You know, right now, they still have hope they can talk you into a divorce. I have a kid and we’re connected for life.”

“One thing to know about Jupiter, she talks out her ass. I can assure you murder is so beneath the Parkers. They’ll likely try to turn our children against you by creating replicas of Robert and Adair.”

Great. I didn’t know what would be worse.