24. #4
The lobby alone was already chaotic.
Assistants moved quickly across the floor carrying garment bags and coffee trays while someone near the back argued about lighting adjustments loud enough for everyone to hear.
My heels clicked against the concrete floors as I followed one of the staff members toward hair and makeup, the energy of the room shifting almost immediately once people realized I'd arrived.
"Mrs. Housner, right this way."
Another smile.
Another version of me sliding back into place automatically.
By the time I sat down in the makeup chair, Taylor was already waiting.
"Good," she said the second she saw me in the mirror. "You're late enough that I was starting to get irritated but not late enough for me to stay mad."
"I'm touched."
"You should be."
Her tape measure already hung around her neck as she walked behind me, immediately pulling my jacket aside to take measurements at my waist while another stylist started sectioning my hair.
The familiarity of it all should've felt normal by now.
Instead, it felt exhausting.
Vivian appeared not long after, heels clicking sharply across the floor as she approached with a folder tucked beneath her arm and her phone already in hand.
"The interviewer wants to lean more personal," she said immediately, not even bothering with a greeting. "Marriage, balancing public life, your advocacy work. Keep your answers warm but polished. No long pauses before responding because it reads evasive."
I stared at myself in the mirror while she spoke.
Taylor tightened the tape around my waist slightly before jotting something down.
"Your measurements are holding steady," she commented absentmindedly.
I barely reacted.
Vivian continued without pause. "They'll likely ask about your future goals again, so redirect back toward service work and public engagement. Say something good about President Housner. Nothing too independent sounding."
That word settled strangely in my chest.
Independent.
The stylist reached forward to tilt my chin slightly toward the light while another adjusted the collar of the cream-colored outfit they'd selected for the shoot. Everything about it looked expensive. Perfectly tailored. Controlled down to the smallest detail.
And suddenly all I could think about was how different I'd felt waking up at Grant's house that morning.
How different I'd felt in my own body.
There, I had laughed too loud. Stayed in bed too long. Walked around barefoot with messy hair and no makeup while Georgetown acceptance letters sat ripped open on the bed beside me.
Here, people measured my waist before asking how I was doing.
The contrast hit me harder than I expected.
By the time the photoshoot wrapped, my face hurt from smiling.
The studio had emptied out slowly over the last hour, staff members breaking down equipment while racks of clothes disappeared one by one behind rolling doors.
Somewhere near the front, someone was still discussing edits from the cover shots while another assistant rushed past carrying makeup cases stacked too high in her arms.
Everything around me still moved quickly.
Efficiently.
Like it always did.
But mentally, I'd checked out hours ago.
The car ride back to the White House was quiet except for Vivian speaking beside me, flipping through her planner while updating me on next week's schedule. Something about a charity luncheon. A possible interview request. A dinner in Chicago Rodney might want me attending.
Normally I would've nodded along automatically.
Today, the words barely settled.
I stared out the window instead, Georgetown's acceptance letter folded neatly back inside my bag beside me. Every time I thought about it, my chest tightened all over again.
Not with anxiety this time.
Something closer to anticipation.
The car finally pulled into the underground parking entrance beneath the White House, and I exhaled slowly as Joe parked. Vivian was already gathering her things before the vehicle fully stopped.
"Tomorrow morning will start earlier than usual," she continued while opening her tablet again. "Rodney also wants updated briefing notes before—"
I barely heard the rest.
We stepped out of the car a second later, my heels clicking softly against the concrete while Vivian continued walking beside me without missing a beat.
"...and depending on the response from Vanity Fair, communications may want to schedule another—"
"Vivian."
She kept walking for half a second before realizing I'd stopped moving.
When she turned back toward me, there was a brief flicker of impatience across her face, subtle but there.
"Yes?"
Suddenly, my nerves came back.
Not enough to stop me.
Just enough that I had to steady myself before speaking.
"I'm going to law school."
The words sat between us for a second.
Vivian blinked once.
"Law school?"
I nodded.
"Yes."
Her eyebrows lifted slightly as she adjusted the folder in her arms. "Okay..." she said slowly. "You want me to figure out how to fit classes into your schedule or something? I can see if we can get someone to do the assignments for you or possibly an online alternative."
There was a slight edge to her tone now.
Not outright rude.
But enough that I heard it.
And for once—
I didn't shrink under it.
I straightened slightly instead, tightening my grip on my bag before answering.
"No," I said calmly. "I don't need you to fit law school into my schedule."
Vivian's expression shifted.
Something more alert now.
"I'm letting you know that once August comes around, I won't be doing appearances anymore."
The silence after that felt heavier than I expected.
For the first time since I'd known her, Vivian genuinely looked caught off guard.
"That's not how this works," she said carefully.
"Well," I replied, my voice steadier this time, "it's going to need to work."
Her stare sharpened immediately.
"Naomi—"
"It's April right now," I continued before I could lose my nerve. "You still have full reign over my schedule until then. Send me wherever you want. Book whatever you need to book. But once August comes..." I swallowed once before finishing, "I'm done."
Vivian looked at me like she was waiting for me to backtrack.
I didn't.
A strange kind of calm settled into me instead.
Because for the first time in a long time, I wasn't asking permission.
I was telling her.
"You understand this affects more than just you, right?" Vivian said finally, her tone tighter now. "You're the First Lady. These appearances are part of a larger strategy."
"And law school is part of mine."
That landed harder than I expected it to.
Vivian's mouth parted slightly before closing again, like she hadn't expected me to answer that quickly.
The air between us shifted after that.
Not explosive.
Just different.
Like something had quietly shifted between us.
Vivian adjusted the folder against her chest again, her expression harder to read now.
"Does Rodney know about this?"
The question caught me off guard enough that I hesitated.
Just briefly.
But long enough.
Vivian noticed immediately. A small breath of amusement left her as she tilted her head slightly. "I see."
I swallowed, my grip tightening around the strap of my bag. "I haven't spoken to him yet."
"No," she said dryly, "clearly."
The parking garage fell quiet around us for a second, the sound of distant footsteps echoing somewhere further down the corridor.
Then Vivian gave a short, almost disbelieving chuckle beneath her breath before shifting the folder higher against her arm again.
"We'll discuss this later."
"There's nothing to discuss," I said before she could turn away completely.
That stopped her.
"I won't be doing appearances after August," I continued, steadier now. "I hope you'll respect my decision."
Vivian stared at me for a moment longer than was comfortable.
Then, finally, she raised both hands slightly in surrender.
"Whatever you say, Mrs. Housner."
And with that, she turned and walked away.
I stood there for another second after she disappeared, my heart still beating harder than it should've been.
Not from fear.
Not anymore.
The conversation hadn't gone perfectly. Rodney still didn't know. Vivian clearly thought the entire thing was unrealistic.
But none of that changed the fact that I'd said it out loud.
And meant it.
My fingers tightened slightly around the strap of my bag before I finally started walking again.
August suddenly didn't feel that far away.