Chapter Fifteen #2
“Hell yes, I am, and P.S., my wife is kinda easy that way. I don’t need to resort to trickery to get lucky.”
“Your wife is so easy, but only with you. No one else in this world thinks she’s easy, and she likes it that way.”
“Speaking of you being a pain in the ass, how’d you make out with the detail?”
“Fine. I told them to leave me the hell alone, and they left me the hell alone.”
His lips quivered with amusement. “Thank you for tolerating them and giving me peace of mind.”
“I’m tolerating them temporarily this one time.”
He refilled her wineglass and took a sip from his glass of ice water. “Duly noted, my love.”
“I officially made a new friend today.”
His brows lifted. “For real?”
“Yes, for real.”
“You hate people. You don’t make new friends.”
Sam nearly sneezed wine out her nose at how accurately he summed her up. “I’ve made a rare exception for Roni Connolly.”
“The one whose husband was hit by the stray bullet?”
She nodded. “That’s the one.”
“Why her?”
“You know, I have no idea, but from the minute I met her and had to give her the most devastating news of her life, I’ve felt this strange connection to her and a desire to make sure she’s going to be okay. Somehow. I can’t explain it.”
“It’s very sweet of you to look out for her.”
Sam scowled at him. “Call me a bitch if you must, but do not say I’m sweet.”
“Sweetest bitch I’ve ever known.”
“Ugh. Next, you’ll be telling me I’m nice.”
“I’d never insult you that way.”
God, she loved this man with every fiber of her being.
“But I am kinda concerned about you making a new friend and deciding to make cupcakes in the same day. Who are you, and what’ve you done with my Samantha?”
“I haven’t made the cupcakes yet, so don’t get too excited.”
“If you’re around, I’m excited. That’s how it goes.”
Scotty came into the kitchen in time to catch that comment and made a loud groan. “Dear God. Does it ever end? Is there ever a time when you’re not talking about that?”
“We weren’t talking about that, if you must know,” Nick said. “We were talking about cupcakes.”
“Is that, like, a metaphor? We learned about them in English class. It’s when you use one word when you mean something else altogether. And with you two, it’s always about the something else.”
Sam, who’d been trying to hold it together, lost it laughing. She loved him as much as she loved his father.
“It’s not funny,” Scotty said. “A man ought to be able to get a bowl of ice cream in his own house without having to put up with this nonsense.”
Nick bit his lip, clearly trying not to laugh hysterically.
Scotty made a big production of getting out a bowl, a spoon and the ice cream. “Anyone want some? You could use some cooling off.”
“I’ll have some,” Sam said.
“Make it a double,” Nick added.
Scotty served up cookies-and-cream ice cream to the three of them and sat with them at the table. After his second bite, he glanced at them. “I heard what you did today.”
“What did we do today?” Sam asked, glancing at Nick. She wanted to hear the details in Scotty’s words.
“You went to see that reporter who asked the offensive question, and then you gave her an interview about adoption and proper terminology.”
“Oh,” Nick said. “That.”
Scotty shot him a withering look. “You knew what I was talking about.” He took a huge bite of ice cream, and, talking with his mouth full, he said, “It was cool that you did that.”
“It was kind of fun,” Sam said. “You should’ve seen the looks we got when we walked into that newsroom unannounced.”
“You didn’t tell them you were coming?” Scotty asked.
“Nope. We just showed up.”
“Holy crap. Imagine minding your own business at work and the VP and his wife come walking in. That reporter must’ve been shitting a brick.”
“I’m supposed to tell you not to talk like that,” Sam said.
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
“I’m also supposed to tell you it’s fresh to say ‘whatever’ to your mother.”
“Whatever,” he said, eyes dancing with glee.
To Nick, Sam said, “Are we going to look back at this as the moment we lost all control of him?”
“I think that might’ve happened when you encouraged him to blow off eighth-grade math,” Nick said.
“That was her finest moment as a mother,” Scotty said, offering her a fist bump.
Sam gave him the bump. “Thank you. I thought so, too.”
“Where are we with the dog conversation?”
“About the same place we were this time yesterday,” Sam said.
“That’s not progress. We need some progress.”
“Christmas is coming,” Nick said. “Make a list.”
“Here’s my list: dog. Any questions?”
“Isn’t it your bedtime?” Sam asked.
“Not for another ten minutes, which gives us plenty of time to discuss this dog we’re going to get for Christmas. What kind should we get?”
“If we were to get a dog,” Sam said, “I’d want it to be a rescue.”
“What does that mean?” Scotty asked. “A rescue?”
“That’s what they call dogs who are taken in by shelters.”
“Oh, like foster kids.”
“Not like that at all, because hello, dogs,” Sam said. “Not children.”
“You know what I mean. They’re little people in need of a good home, which means I’m down with adopting a rescue. Can I help to pick him out?”
“If we decide to get a dog, you can help to pick him out,” Nick said.
“I can’t wait.” He took all three of their bowls to the sink, rinsed them and put them in the dishwasher. Then he came to the table and hugged them both. “Thanks again for what you did with that reporter.”
“Anything for you, kid.” Sam echoed the chief’s words to her earlier. “It’s what family does for family.”
“I’m glad you’re my family, even if you’re always talking about that.”
“Not always,” Nick said, grinning.
“Whatever.” He walked out of the room, letting the kitchen door swing closed behind him.
“Whatever I did to deserve that kid, I’m going to be eternally thankful for it,” Nick said.
“Ditto. He’s amazing, even when he’s being a cockblocking ass pain who’s not letting the dog thing go.”
“No, he isn’t. We’re gonna have to deliver on this, aren’t we?”
“I believe we are. But are you sure we’re not setting a horrible precedent by letting him wear us down?”
“I’m not sure at all, but I want him to have a dog as badly as he does.”
“Same.”
They got up, finished the dishes and shut off the lights before heading upstairs.
“How do we know if we’re setting a bad precedent?” Sam asked after they’d looked in on the twins and then closed their own bedroom door for the night. “Like, what comes next? A car?”
“He’ll want a car when he’s old enough to drive, and we’ll probably get him one since it’ll be easier for us. Not because he thinks he deserves it. He’s not that kind of kid.”
“True.”
“Remember how excited he got when I got him a game console to use when he was visiting us? You’d have thought I’d given him a million dollars, because he’d never had one of his own.
He’s not so far gone from that life that he’s forgotten what it was like.
I don’t think he’ll ever forget where he came from. ”
“I love him unreasonably. I’m afraid I’d spoil him rotten if you weren’t here to stop me.”
“Same. If he ever finds out that all he has to do is ask us for anything he wants…”
Sam laughed. “We suck at this.”
“Maybe so, but he never doubts how much we love him. We made a rather public statement today to that effect.”
Sam raised her hand for a fist bump. “We did good work there.”
He wrapped his hand around hers and gave a gentle pull, bringing her into his arms. “Some of our best work.”
“You mess with our kids, we’re coming for you,” Sam said.
“That’s right.”
“Am I allowed to be silly excited that the whole world knows you’re not going to run and that I get to keep you all to myself forever and ever?”
“You’re definitely allowed. Feel free to celebrate in any way you see fit.”
Sam loved the way his eyes went wide and his mouth fell open when she dropped to her knees in front of him and began working on his belt.
“Always a good choice.”
She laughed as she worked her way into the navy suit pants, unzipping him over a suddenly huge bulge. “Why, Mr. Vice President, a girl might think you’re happy to see her with this kind of reception.”
“I’m very happy to see you. Always.”
“So I see—and feel.”
“Feel free to do more feeling.”
Could he be any more adorable or sexy or perfect for her? Nope. Not possible. Just as she was about to take things to the next level, his cell phone rang with the tone he’d programmed for his chief of staff, Terry O’Connor.
Nick let out a tortured groan. “I have to get that.”