Chapter Thirty #2
Hayden wraps an arm around Stella’s waist, and Stella leans her head on Hayden’s shoulder. I wish the two of them had more time to spend in person. They were inseparable when Stella lived here in New York, always sneaking around this house and whispering in corners. Speaking of…
“Where are you staying tonight?” I ask.
“I got a hotel not too far from here. I didn’t have time to check in as I wanted to come straight here, though.”
“Why don’t you cancel the reservation and stay here tonight? I can give my wife up for a singular night.” As I say the words, I remember that only moments ago I was teasing Hayden about after the election, and I instantly regret giving her up.
Stella raises her eyebrows, but then her red lips stretch into a smile.
“I’d love to stay. I promise I’ll only steal her away for a little while.
I’ll send her back to you for bedtime.” She winks, and I feel heat creep up my neck.
I’ll never get over Stella’s emboldened spirit to say whatever is on her mind regardless of propriety.
“Oh, I’m so happy,” Hayden exclaims, hugging Stella and then dragging me to her side. Marcus and Priscilla join us, and Hayden’s smile somehow grows as she says, “All of my favorite people are here. Oh,” she waves my mom over. “Ruth! Come join.”
Mom walks over, greets Stella, and then joins this little hug group. Every fiber of my being longs to get out of this, but again, I’d do anything to keep that smile on Hayden’s face. Then again… this is nice. We are just missing—
“Ren!” Hayden shouts as if she was reading my mind. “You made it.”
I slowly turn my head to see Ren, and his expression is nothing less than I’d expect.
His cheeks are swollen with all the laughter he is holding, his face going red.
One hand clutches his stomach while the other rises to cover his mouth as air shoots out followed by uncontained laughter.
“This is a sight to behold,” he says between cackles.
“Come join us,” Hayden shouts.
“I’m coming in.” Ren barrels toward us, his body slams into mine, causing the group hug to shift and teeter, on the verge of sending us all to the ground in a heap of limbs. Thankfully, we steady ourselves, and I take the opportunity to slide out of the huddle.
“Central time zone reports are rolling in,” Paul announces, and we all turn our attention to the screens.
The news outlets begin making calls based on combined early votes and the majority of the votes from the onset of counting, and most states, to my surprise, lean toward me over the democratic candidate, but it’s still too close for comfort.
With each call for the democratic candidate in some of the swing states, my heart sinks.
I never expected to win over the democratic vote since my Independent leanings are more conservative, but now that I’ve thoroughly secured most of the Republican vote simply because of Loveless’s idiocy, I might stand a solid chance.
The night started fantastic with North and South Carolina, who by this point are leading by double-digit percentages for me, but I’m going to need more than that to get the needed 270 electoral votes to win.
“Don’t give up yet, Killjoy,” Hayden says, patting my back. “The night’s not even close to over.”
Mountain time closes and then Pacific time.
Finally, Alaska and Hawaii close, and all there is left to do is wait.
I am ushered in and out of the viewing room, giving small interviews with the press I invited in tonight and joining in watch party activities with those who are not on my team but have given their endless support for my campaign over the past two years.
States continue to slowly report, and the Midwest creates a surge in support for me.
Emotions shift with every tick of the percentages from the states, rising when a state is called for me and collapsing when a state is called for the democratic candidate.
I wish the country understood the stakes of this election; if the democrats win, then the budget will significantly inflate, we will continue to be involved in senseless wars across the world, immigration reform efforts will stall, and, most importantly to me and my team, the foster care system and pandemic of homelessness will not get the appropriate spotlight that they deserve because that party is too wrapped up in identity politics.
Two in the morning rolls around, and the entire team and I are chewing our nails. We are tied, waiting for Florida, Arizona, Minnesota, and Wyoming to report.
The dilemma?
Both of us would need all four states to successfully cross the 270 electoral votes threshold.
“I have never been this on edge,” I say to Hayden, who is sitting beside me and constantly rubbing my back with one hand. At this point, she has shifted out of campaign manager mode and has stayed by my side as my amazing, supportive wife.
The woman who is hopefully about to adopt the title of First Lady of the United States.
“Hmm, I remember countless times of you being ridiculously on edge with me around.” Hayden bumps my shoulder, and I smirk at her.
I clear my throat, feeling a little sentimental since it’s the wee hours of the morning. I face my wife, gazing into her warm, brown eyes. She lifts an eyebrow, and I take her hands into mine.
“Mrs. Marshall, you are one of the most infuriating women I know, but I wouldn’t change your spitfire attitude or the fact that you speak truth regardless of who it offends.
You are sunshine and happiness and every color of yellow on the spectrum.
Even when you place me on the edge of sanity, I know that I can trust your judgment and I love every part of who you are, my wife.
” I kiss her cheek and whisper against her ear, “My divine princess.”
She moans softly and her body molds against mine.
Someone clears a throat, and Hayden pushes back from me, releasing my hands, her eyes widening with realization.
“Do you two need to take a break and grab some alone time?” Stella asks, humor seeping through her words. “Seriously, I can go back to the hotel…”
“No,” Hayden says, interrupting her. “I need best friend time, too.”
“Um, guys,” Paul says. We all snap our attention to him, and he stands in front of the screen, blocking our view. “Florida is in, and…” Paul steps away from the screen, showing that Buzz News Network has officially called Florida for me.
My heart races as applause fills the room. The doors to the viewing room swing open, and I vaguely hear Micah, my social media coordinator, shouting to the crowd about our recent win.
With each passing moment, my brain repeats one phrase: three more states. My heart beats in time with the words. I feel Hayden’s hands grasping mine like they are her lifeline, but I can’t seem to hear what anyone around me is saying. My eyes are glued to the screen as another alert comes through.
Wyoming is in, and it’s called for Darcy Marshall. For me.
Halfway there.
The world blurs around me as all I can focus on is the screen.
Minnesota is called for me.
Hayden says something, but I can’t hear her. She pulls me from my seat and ushers me out of the viewing room, though the entire time I walk backward with my eyes on the screen.
An alert flashes across the screen just as the door closes.
Hayden turns me to face the crowd. Cameras flash and reporters shove their mics in my faces as Hayden whispers in my ear, “I love you, Mr. President.”
“We did it,” I whisper, and then reality catches up with me and a Cheshire Cat smile takes over my face. I turn to the one person I want to celebrate this moment with: my wife. “We did it!”
The room erupts with cheers and claps, and a chant begins, probably started by Ren.
President Darcy Fitzwilliam Marshall.
I look at my first lady, she smiles like everything is right in the world, and I pull her into a deep kiss, pressing my hands firmly against her back as she entwines her arms around my neck.
She pushes me away before the kiss gets too wild, covering her mouth and giggling. “Darcy, there are cameras everywhere. This is live across the nation, possibly the world!”
I smirk. “Good. Let the world know that the president of the United States is madly and irrevocably in love with his brilliant wife.”
“Thanks for trusting me with your campaign…and with your heart,” she says with stars in her eyes. I’ll never tire of that admiring gaze, and I pray she knows that I admire her more.
“Thanks for staying by my side and loving the roughest, coldest parts of me.”
“USA! USA! USA,” echoes through the room.
I take Hayden by the hand and lead her up the short stairs to stand behind the podium. We wave to the crowd, and then I clear my throat.
“Before I begin, let me introduce you to the real winner tonight.” I grab Hayden’s hand, kiss it, raise it in the air, and catch her eyes. “My campaign manager, my wife, and your First Lady, Hayden Sarah Marshall. I thank God every day that He gifted me with you.”