16.
The boutique Reese drags me into smells like linen spray and expensive perfume.
Everything inside is soft neutrals and perfectly spaced racks, the kind of place where the sales associates look like they could be models themselves. Reese barely glances at them as we walk in.
I trail behind her, still damp from our workout class, my ponytail sticking to the back of my neck.
"You know," she says, pulling a silk blouse off the rack, "most people celebrate submitting a law school application with champagne or a dinner party."
"I didn't submit it yet."
"You told me you were going to."
"I said I was thinking about it."
Reese gives me a look over the hanger.
"That's the same thing."
I shrug, running my fingers over a row of sweaters. "I'm still deciding."
"You toured the campus."
"I have to talk to Vivian about it and see if it could work with my schedule. I'd potentially be taking a year minimum off to just focus on school."
Reese snorts and tosses the blouse over her arm.
"I just don't want to get ahead of myself," I say.
She walks toward the fitting rooms, stopping at a display table to inspect a pair of sunglasses.
"You've been talking about doing something for yourself for years. This is the first time you've actually done it."
I feel my shoulders lift slightly.
"I guess."
Her phone buzzes.
Reese glanced down at the screen, and for half a second something warm flickered across her face before she smoothed it away. She flipped the phone over on the display table.
I noticed the smile anyway.
My eyes narrowed.
"That was suspicious."
"It was nothing," she said, already reaching for a pair of sunglasses.
The phone buzzed again.
She didn't even look this time.
Instead she slipped the sunglasses on and leaned toward the mirror, tilting her head like she was genuinely evaluating the frames.
I crossed my arms.
"Reese."
"What?" she said, distracted.
"Who is that?"
"No one."
"That's a lie."
She sighed softly, pushing the sunglasses up into her hair.
"It's just a guy."
I blinked at her.
"You're smiling."
"I am not smiling."
"You absolutely are."
The phone buzzed again, louder this time, vibrating against the glass tabletop. Reese groaned under her breath and scooped it up, sliding it into her tote bag like she was hiding contraband.
I stared at her.
"Reese Callahan does not smile at her phone like that unless it's something interesting."
She lowered the sunglasses again, peering at me over the lenses.
"You are exhausting."
"And you," I said sweetly, "are deflecting."
For a second she just looked at me.
Then she exhaled and dropped the sunglasses back on the table.
"It's someone I've been seeing."
My eyebrows lifted.
"Seeing."
"Yes."
"Do I know him?"
She doesn't answer just flips through the nearby clothing rack.
That makes an excitement in me peek up. "Is he in our circle?"
She hesitated just long enough for me to catch it.
Then she nodded once.
"Yes."
My hands came together in a quiet clap.
"Oh my god."
"Relax."
"Is it Alexander?"
Reese spun toward me so fast the hanger she was holding nearly slid off the rack.
"God no."
"Why not?"
"Because Alexander is deeply annoying."
I laughed.
"He's not that bad."
"He talks like he's teaching a seminar every time he opens his mouth."
I thought about that for a second. "Okay that's fair."
She turned back to the rack, flipping through dresses like the conversation was over.
"He's bigger than Alexander anyway," she muttered.
I froze. Slowly, my eyes widened. "Bigger."
Reese stopped flipping through the rack.
The second the word left her mouth she looked like she regretted it.
"You're done asking questions," she said quickly.
"Is he a senator?"
"Not quite."
"That somehow makes it worse."
She walked toward another rack, clearly hoping movement would end the conversation.
Unfortunately for her, I followed.
"How long has this been going on?"
"It started as a fling."
"How long ago?"
She let out a slow breath like she knew she was about to regret answering.
"About a year."
I stared at her.
"Reese."
She tilted her head toward the ceiling like she was doing complicated math.
"Okay," she admitted. "Closer to two."
I stopped walking.
"Two years?"
She shrugged like that was a completely normal amount of time to hide a relationship from your best friend.
"It wasn't serious at first."
"You have been seeing someone for two years and you didn't tell me?"
"It's complicated."
"That is not complicated," I said. "That is a full-blown secret life."
Her phone vibrated again inside the bag.
This time she didn't even bother reaching for it.
"Trust me," she said finally, glancing back at me. "You'll understand when I tell you who it is."
"So tell me."
"Not yet."
"Why?"
"Because I'm currently trying to end things."
That made me stop.
"You are?"
She nodded. "Yeah."
"Why?"
She shrugged again, but this time the motion looked forced.
"Timing."
"Timing usually means you still like him."
"I didn't say that."
Her phone buzzed again through the thin fabric of the bag.
I leaned closer. "He is blowing your phone up."
She pulled it out, declined the call, and shoved it back into the tote.
"He's acting like a lunatic today."
"That's kind of a red flag. Is he always like that?"
"It's because I'm cutting him off."
"Why today?"
She glanced toward the front windows of the boutique, sunlight spilling across the marble floor.
"Because I leave for Cura?ao in two days and he's trying to cancel on me last minute."
"I thought you were going with your sister."
Reese laughed softly. "I said that so I wouldn't have to explain anything."
I pointed at her. "You sneaky girl."
She grinned a little then, finally relaxing.
"Stop interrogating me," she said, grabbing a dress off the rack and tossing it toward me. "And come with me to try this on before I regret inviting you shopping with me."
I caught it against my chest.
We ended up leaving the boutique almost an hour later, Reese carrying two bags and me carrying one she insisted on paying for.
The late afternoon air outside was warm and bright, the kind of early spring sun that made the whole street glow.
Reese slid her sunglasses onto her face as we stepped onto the sidewalk.
"You heading back to the White House?" she asked.
"Yeah."
"I'll call you tonight."
"Okay."
She pulled me into a quick hug before stepping toward the curb where her driver was already waiting.
"Send me updates about Georgetown," she added. "I'm invested now."
"I will."
She slipped into the car a moment later, already reaching for her phone.
I watched the car disappear down the street before pulling my own phone from my bag.
There was a message from Grant.
A small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
I typed back quickly.
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
I slipped the phone back into my bag, still smiling a little as I walked toward the car waiting for me.
The ride back to the White House was quiet.
Traffic moved slowly through the city, sunlight bouncing off the windows of buildings as we passed. For a while I just watched it all go by, my mind drifting between Reese's mysterious boyfriend and the image of Georgetown's campus.
The idea of going back to school still felt surreal.
Like something I wasn't quite allowed to want yet.
By the time the gates of the White House came into view, the small bubble of excitement in my chest had settled into something steadier.
Hope.
I stepped out of the car and walked through the familiar halls, nodding politely to staff members as they passed.
Everything felt the same as it always did.
Controlled.
Polished.
Predictable.
Which is why I didn't think anything of it when I pushed open the door to my suite.
At first, the room looked empty.
My bag slid off my shoulder as I stepped inside, already thinking about grabbing my things before heading to Grant's place.
Then the bathroom door slammed.
The sound cracked through the room so suddenly my heart jumped.
A second later, the sink turned on.
Something heavy clattered against the counter.
My stomach tightened.
Because there was only one person who slammed doors like that.
I stood there for a second, my hand still resting on the strap of my bag, listening to the water hit the porcelain.
Another bang echoed from the bathroom.
Something heavy.
My stomach tightened.
Rodney had a way of filling a room even when he wasn't in it yet.
I tried to breathe normally.
Tried to move normally.
If I just grabbed my things and left before he came out, maybe—
The bathroom door opened.
Rodney stepped out, drying his hands on a paper towel like nothing in the world was wrong.
His eyes landed on me immediately.
My grip tightened slightly on my bag strap.
He tossed the paper towel into the trash.
"Where are you going?"
The question sounded casual, but something underneath it wasn't.
I forced my shoulders to relax.
"Nowhere I just came back from the gym."
His gaze drifted over my clothes.
The shopping bag in my hand.
My purse.
"You've been going out a lot lately."
My heart gave a small, uncomfortable thump.
"I told you," I said carefully. "My mom hasn't been doing well."
He leaned against the counter.
"You've said that a few times."
I nodded, trying to keep my voice light.
"She really isn't."
For a moment he just watched me.
Then he pushed off the counter and walked toward the middle of the room.
Slow.
Unhurried.
The air shifted slightly with every step.
"I know where you go," he said.
My pulse jumped.
"I know where you are," he continued calmly. "Who you talk to. What you do."
I swallowed.
"I'm not hiding anything."
He stopped a few feet in front of me.
"Nothing you do in this country," he said, his voice dropping slightly, "happens without me knowing."
The words landed softly.
But they didn't feel soft.
"I'm serious, babe," I said quickly, forcing a small smile. "Ive just been going to see my mom more."