Chapter Twenty-One
Freddie eased the car into the street without crashing into any of the reporters that gave chase.
“Damn,” Raul said when they finally pulled free of the crowd. “You deal with that shit every day?”
“Not like that, thankfully.” Sam was still reeling from what she’d been told by the reporters. “You think you can handle the video look-see by yourself?”
“Of course. Why?”
“I need to stop at my other office.”
“Oh, um, okay.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“I don’t mind.”
“Drop me on Pennsylvania?”
“By yourself?”
“I’m a big girl. I’ll be fine. Pull up right over there, and I’ll jump out.”
“Sam…”
“Pull over, Freddie.”
“How will you get back to HQ?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll get a cab. Or something.”
“She can do what she wants?” Raul asked. “Why doesn’t she have Secret Service following her around?”
“Good question,” Freddie said drolly.
Sam left them to their bromance and hopped out of the car while it was still moving.
“For crying out loud, Sam!”
“Swear words, Freddie. Try them sometime.” She shut the door before he could reply and took off toward the White House at a jog.
In the Oval Office, Nick waited to speak to President David Nelson, who’d been called away from the office right at their designated meeting time.
Figures. Everything was always more important to the president than his vice president.
Nick killed time with his phone, responding to tweets and posting a couple of photos from his recent trip to Iran to Instagram, where he had nearly as many followers as he did on Twitter.
He answered an email from his dad, who was checking in to see if there was anything new in the investigation, and a text from his friend Andy, who’d taken a break from pursuing legal action against Nick’s mother to ask if the vice president had time for a get-together with the “little” people from before he was famous.
Accustomed by now to their ribbing, Nick responded to the group text, which also included Harry and Derek Kavanaugh, the president’s deputy chief of staff and a longtime friend of Nick’s. I’ll see if I can pencil something in.
He’s frightfully busy globetrotting, Harry replied.
That’s right, Nick said. Running the free world takes a lot of time and energy. It’s probably easier all around if you guys come to me. A week from Saturday? Poker and wings?
As long as Sam isn’t cooking, Harry said.
Nick grunted out a laugh. No chance of that.
Fine, Harry said. I’m in.
The others concurred, and Nick put the date on his calendar along with an alert to remind him to have someone pick up the beer and food. He hated that he had to have someone else do what he would’ve done himself before he was locked behind the fortress the Secret Service had put up around him.
Sure, he could ask them to stop at the store, but it was such a freaking production that he preferred to get someone else to do it. With Shelby out on maternity leave, he’d have to see if Sam could do it for him.
Speaking of Shelby, Nick sent her a text.
Hoping to hear good news soon. Thinking of you and wishing you well.
He checked his watch. It was now half an hour past their appointed time, and though Nick didn’t have another meeting until later, he got up to leave the Oval Office. He was almost to the door when Nelson walked in.
“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting, Nick.” He extended his hand.
Nick shook his hand. “No problem, Mr. President.”
“Call me David. Please.”
Nick tried not to show his surprise at the sudden warmth coming from a man who’d tried to freeze him out at every turn since he accepted the offer to become his new vice president.
“Have a seat,” Call-Me-David said.
They settled in the seating area in the middle of the office.
“Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? A stiff drink?”
Nick smiled and shook his head. “I’m good, thanks.”
“Great, well, I wanted to chat with you about Iran and everything that’s happened since you got back. First and foremost, where does the investigation stand?”
“Back to square one since LeRoy Nevins didn’t pan out.”
“And yet the Secret Service allowed your family out of lockup?”
“With limitations. My son is no longer allowed to attend his baseball camp, for instance, and each of our extended family members has an agent assigned to them for the time being.”
“And your wife’s ex-husband was found murdered?”
“That’s right.” Where in the hell was he going with this?
“Now I’m hearing your mother is giving ‘revealing’ interviews.”
“Certainly not with my endorsement. I have no relationship with her. I haven’t spoken to her in more than a year and before that, five years. She has never been part of my life.”
“Well, that’s unfortunate.”
“Not from my perspective, it isn’t. She’s a train wreck, and I’m better off without her around.”
“I see.”
You don’t see anything, you pompous ass.
Nick made a show out of checking his watch. “Was there something else you needed?”
“I have to be honest with you, Nick. It makes me nervous to have things like murder and tell-all interviews touching my administration.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t like it either, but tell me how I was supposed to keep my wife’s ex-husband from being murdered or a mother I have no contact with from giving an interview?”
“Oh, I’m not blaming you.”
Of course you aren’t.
“I’m saying…it makes for a sticky situation for all of us.
” He withdrew a folded piece of paper from his suit-coat pocket and opened it.
“I’m hearing from my communications folks that your mother will be revealing some information about your paternity, as well a previous marriage of yours that wasn’t disclosed on any of the vetting documents. ”
Nick felt like he’d been electrocuted. No. No way… She wouldn’t. Except she would. Of course she would. She’d do anything to make a cheap buck, even if it’s at my expense. Oh God. Samantha. “I, ah… I need to… I’m sorry, Mr. President, but I have to go.”
Before the president had a chance to reply, Nick was out the door, running past the president’s startled assistants and several other White House staffers as he rushed to his West Wing office, where Terry met him.
“Mr. Vice President—”
“Not now, Terry.”
“But, sir…”
Nick burst through his office door to find Sam waiting for him. His heart leaped in response to her the way it always did, but this time he also experienced a twinge of anxiety. “Babe—”
“Something you want to tell me, Nick?”
Oh, shit.
This was the first time Sam had come to the White House by herself. She’d done it enough times with escorts to know which door to use and was pleased to be waved through like she belonged there even if she still felt like a fraud.
Fraud or not, she was the nation’s second lady, a title she was slowly becoming accustomed to, if not entirely comfortable with.
But that was the least of her concerns at the moment, and watching Nick squirm gave her the worst feeling of dread she’d experienced in quite some time—and that was saying something considering recent events.
“I can explain,” he said.
No wife—ever—wanted to hear those particular words from her husband.
Sam sat on the nearest upholstered object, which turned out to be a love seat.
He joined her.
For the first time she wasn’t sure if she wanted to pull him closer or push him away, and she didn’t like the conflicted feeling. Her feelings for him were never conflicted.
“I had a girlfriend in high school,” he said haltingly, his stress apparent in the stiff way he held himself. “Amelia. We were together for more than a year when she was diagnosed with leukemia. She went downhill very fast. She had dreamed about her wedding all her life, so…”
“Oh my God. And you never thought to mention this to me?”
“Wait—hear the rest. We went through the motions, had a ceremony and a little reception afterward, but there was no marriage license or anything legal. She died five days later. I was never married to her.”
Sam blew out a deep breath. “Does your mother know that?”
“I’m shocked that she knew about any of it. She wasn’t around much at that time. I have no idea how she heard about it. I never told her.”
“They’re saying she has a bombshell about your paternity, too.”
“No, she doesn’t. I look like my dad. I always have. The only person she’s going to make a fool of with this interview is herself.” He took hold of her hand and cradled it between both of his. “Tell me you’re not thinking I would’ve kept something like an actual marriage from you.”
“I’m not thinking that.” She looked over at him, feeling silly and foolish and relieved, all at the same time. “Not now, anyway.”
“Samantha, come on. I’d never keep something like that from you.”
“You never told me about Amelia.”
“That wasn’t intentional. I don’t talk about her or that time in my life very often. It was devastating, and I buried it deep in the years that followed.”
“I’m sorry you went through that, and I’m proud of what you did for her.”
“Thank you.” He brought her hand to his lips. “You know what sucks?”
“What?”
“I’m going to have to tell people about it to discredit my mother’s so-called bombshell. I don’t believe in capitalizing on stuff like that for political gain.”
“You’d be defending yourself. That’s different.”
“Still, it feels crappy to bring her into it.”
“Did you think you’d be able to keep that a secret?”
“I honestly didn’t think about it, but I certainly never expected my own mother to be the one to tell people.”