Chapter 4 #3
It was given freely.
Alex's breath caught, and Cassidy stilled immediately.
"Too much?" Cassidy asked.
Alex shook her head. "No."
Cassidy waited.
Alex opened her eyes. "I need you close."
Cassidy's expression softened. "I am close."
"Closer."
Cassidy kissed her again.
Words disappeared.
There were murmurs and small laughs, the shift of bodies finding each other with the ease of memory and the hunger of having waited too long to come together again.
There were pauses when they simply looked at each other, breathless and smiling, as if both of them were a little surprised to find this still new after so many years.
Alex let go first.
Not all at once.
Piece by piece.
Her control slipped. Her worries quieted. She could never hide from the woman in her arms. Not her hopes or her fears. And she didn't want to. She begged Cassidy for something—for everything. To keep her suspended. To let her fall. To hold on.
Cassidy held her through it, steady and unafraid.
When Alex finally quieted beneath her, Cassidy kissed her shoulder, then her cheek, and then her mouth.
Alex opened her eyes.
Cassidy smiled down at her. "Hi."
Alex laughed once, softly, the sound rough with emotion. "Hi."
Cassidy brushed a thumb over her lower lip. "You went somewhere."
"No."
"Alex."
Alex sighed. "Maybe."
"Where?"
Alex looked at her for a long moment. "Here."
Cassidy smiled.
She always understood.
Alex rolled them carefully, settling above Cassidy now, bracing herself on one arm. She looked down at the woman beneath her—the woman who had built a life with her, raised children with her, argued with her, forgiven her, challenged her, and most of all, steadied her.
The woman who knew the parts no one else saw.
Alex lowered her mouth to Cassidy's shoulder.
Cassidy's fingers slid into her hair.
Alex took her time touching Cassidy. Not because she felt no urgency. She felt the urgency in Cassidy's breath, in the way Cassidy's hands tightened against her back, and the way her name left Cassidy's mouth.
But Alex wanted to remember every sound and smile. Every place Cassidy softened beneath her.
"You're staring," Cassidy whispered.
"I'm appreciating."
Cassidy smiled. "My gray hairs?"
Alex laughed softly, and Cassidy pulled her back up, kissing her with a need that matched Alex's.
The rest unfolded between them quietly and completely, with no audience but the dimming light and no language large enough for what passed between them. Alex held Cassidy as Cassidy had held her, loving her past the words, past the years, past the thousand interruptions waiting outside their door.
When Cassidy finally trembled in her arms, Alex stayed with her, whispering the only promise that ever seemed big enough.
"Je t'adore."
Cassidy clung to her, breathing hard against her neck.
Alex kissed her temple. "Tu es tout pour moi," she whispered.
For a long while, neither of them moved.
The house remained impossibly quiet around them.
Eventually, Cassidy shifted, tucking herself against Alex's side. "We never made it to the bath."
Alex smiled into her hair. "No."
"Or the wine."
"No."
Cassidy lifted her head. "You had a plan."
"I did."
"What happened?"
Alex traced her fingers along Cassidy's arm. "You."
Cassidy's expression softened, and the teasing faded.
Alex looked at her. "I forget sometimes."
Cassidy's brow furrowed. "Forget what?"
"To stop moving long enough to find you again."
Cassidy was quiet for a moment. Then she leaned in and kissed Alex tenderly.
"I'm always right here," she whispered.
Alex closed her eyes and held Cassidy closer.
"I know."
Cassidy settled against her again, her hand resting over Alex's heart.
"Tu es tout pour moi, Alex," she said.
A tear slipped over Alex's cheek. "And you are my world."
She closed her eyes, breathing in the moment. Cassidy entered her life and changed everything—changed Alex. Grateful. Alex kissed Cassidy’s temple, letting gratefulness settle in her bone. “Always,” she whispered.
The White House
Candace kicked off her heels the moment she stepped into the elevator.
“God, I hate these.” She leaned against the wall.
It was only a few seconds before the doors would open again, but she felt exhausted.
Depleted. She greeted the soft ping with a groan that was halfway between relief and regret that she had to move again.
She grabbed her shoes and stepped out into the residence.
“You look like hell.”
Candace looked up and offered Pearl a small shrug.
“Not going to deny it, huh?”
“What’s the point?” Candace replied. “I feel like hell, so it stands to reason I look that way.”
“Bad day?”
“No. Not really. Just a day.”
Pearl nodded. “Did you eat?”
“You mean food?”
Pearl rolled her eyes. “Go get changed. Coop requested my broccoli and chicken casserole. I’ll heat some up for you.”
“Where is Cooper?”
“Last I knew he was in his room engrossed in a book.”
Candace smiled. Cooper loved to read. While he enjoyed watching movies with friends or his parents, he spent most of his alone time found reading or drawing.
Candace looked forward to hearing his thoughts on whatever book had captured his attention.
It was difficult to say what interests a ten-year-old might pursue in the future.
And Cooper’s interests seemed to expand by the day—not change—expand.
The thought eased some of her tension from the day.
“I wonder what this one’s about,” Candace said.
“Oh, I think I saw a dragon on the cover.”
“Well, let’s hope he doesn’t want us to take him dragon hunting.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that, Candy.”
“No?”
“No. If Coop decides to become a dragon tamer or a dragonslayer, I’d place my bets that another blonde—a little younger—might be his chosen companion.”
Candace laughed. “He and Kenzie have certainly developed a close friendship.”
“He misses Spencer. I know that.”
Candace nodded. “Did he say something?”
“No, not to me. I heard him talking to Kenzie the other day when Helen dropped her off to Cassidy.”
Candace tilted her head.
“Kenzie was talking about how things were different since Dylan left.”
Candace nodded.
“Coop told her he ‘sort of’ understood. Spencer is more like his brother than a nephew. And Spencer being his nephew was ‘too weird.’ I think those were his words.”
“It is a little weird.”
“Mm. Well, we can talk about all the weirdness in this family after you change your clothes.”
“I think I might hop in the shower.”
“Probably wise.”
Candace lifted a brow.
“Do I smell or something?”
“Yes. Like frustration.”
Candace laughed genuinely. “I didn’t know that was a scent.”
“Now you do. So, do me a favor? Wash it off. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
“Message received.”
Pearl shook her head as she watched Candace wander toward her bedroom. “Time for a forced break,” she said.
“Hello?”
“Luke.”
“Pearl?”
“Last I checked.”
“Is everything okay. Candace?—”
“The president is fine, Luke,” Pearl said. “My Candy, however, is not.”
Luke sighed heavily.
“Don’t call her this weekend unless the world blows up,” Pearl said.
“Pearl, I can’t hold things back that?—”
“If the world blows up, call her. If some idiot decides to publish a story that she’s having an affair with some young reporter, or the governor of some state is worried about money for potatoes, corn, or a toy factory—leave her alone.”
He sighed again.
“I mean it, Luke.”
“I’ll keep as much off her plate as I can.”
“Keep it all off her plate until Monday unless?—”
“The world blows up. I got it.”
“Good.”
Luke slipped his phone back into his pocket with a groan.
“Problems?”
Luke looked at Grant Hill and shook his head. “She’s scarier than the president.”
“Who?”
“Pearl.”
Grant laughed.
“I’m serious,” Luke said.
“What did Pearl say?”
“She wants me to leave the president alone unless, and I quote, ‘the world blows up.’ I think her definition of the world blowing up and the president’s might differ.”
“No doubt.”
“So? What do I do?”
“Don’t call Candace unless?—”
“Uh-huh,” Luke said. “And how should I define the world ending?”
Grant smiled. “She needs a break, Luke. I could see it in her eyes this afternoon. She’ll get her daily briefs. Leave it at that. If someone wages a war or there is a mass shooting, you’ll need to call her. Otherwise, leave the drama until Monday.”
“You realize that Candace will be furious if I hold something back?”
Grant shrugged.
“Grant. You know how she?—”
“She might surprise you.”
Luke blinked.
“She put you in this job because she trusts you to know what and when she needs information. And when it can wait.”
“She’s as hands-on as anyone I’ve worked for.”
“True. Sometimes that can be to her detriment. She knows that. And Pearl will have your back.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
Grant shrugged again. “That isn’t in my job description,” he said, winking and turning down the corridor
“Grant—wait!”
One thing Grant knew about being in Candace’s life—any part of it—never cross Pearl or Jameson. He chuckled softly and kept walking.
Candace stood in the center of the bedroom for several seconds, her shoes dangling from one hand, her jacket half-slipped from her shoulder.
The room was quiet.
As quiet as the White House ever became. Somewhere beyond the walls, people moved with discretion. Agents shifted positions, and staff murmured into radios. The world continued its demand for attention—her attention.
A moment of stillness was rare. No one to interrupt. Not even those she loved most.
Candace closed her eyes.
It should have felt like relief—this quiet. But somehow it felt perilous, as if the quiet might reveal something she preferred not to name.
She opened her eyes and forced herself to move.
She placed her jacket over the back of the chair, her shoes near the closet, and deposited her earrings in a small porcelain dish Jameson had bought her years ago because Candace was always losing one.
Watch off. Necklace off. She removed her armor in pieces.
She caught sight of herself in the mirror and almost laughed.
Pearl had been kind. Candace looked worse than hell.