Commander in Chief (White House #2)(37)

The correspondents laugh.

I chuckle too, and lean into the mic again.

“I think she is marvelous. She is untouched by politics, unmarred and untainted. She is absolutely, brilliantly humble. Honest, hardworking. And it would be my honor that she accept to be my wife. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a country to govern and a woman to woo.”

“Which is the most difficult, President Hamilton?”

“The latter, for sure.” I grin again, then nod. “Good day, ladies and gentlemen.”

“When’s the wedding?”

“As soon as possible. Today if I have my way.”





22





ROSE GARDEN





Charlotte



The White House smells of roses. In fact, the East Wing of the White House where I usually work is filled with them. We got back a week ago and I don’t think I’ve ever watched so many staffers, one after the other, pile into the room with more and more flowers.

“What is this? Is there a state dinner somebody forgot to tell me about?” I ask, panicked.

Clarissa’s eyes go to the door, and Matt is there, lounging casually, looking at me.

I gulp.

Clarissa scurries out of the room, along with the rest of the staffers.

Intense emotion forces its way into his eyes. “Did you like my welcome home gift?”

“I didn’t leave home. I mean, I did, but I got home a week ago.”

“That’s right. You’re home for good. At least until my term is over. You’re home with me.”

He starts walking.

“Don’t, Matt.” I don’t know what’s happening, but I’m not sure I’ve ever seen that particularly fierce look in his eyes before.

“Then come here.” He pulls me close. “I love you. I love you and I want to marry you.” He inhales, kissing my jaw.

He slips something into his mouth and then takes my hand, lifts my finger to his mouth, and works a ring onto my finger with his tongue.

I gasp, my heart hammering. He licks the finger base to tip.

“Hmm. You taste good.”

“Matthew . . . the country—”

“They’re all holding their breaths, waiting to know if you said yes.”

“What? You’re crazy!”

“For you.”

I stare at him, stunned.

“They know, Charlotte; they’ve known for a long time how I feel about you. It’s nothing I’m ashamed of, nothing I can hide anymore—nor do I want you to.” He slips his hand over mine, and we watch our fingers link together. Mine and his.

“You are the man of my dreams, Matthew Hamilton,” I blurt out, still sort of reeling. A tear escapes.

“No more tears, not for me.”

“I’m just happy. I’m so happy. Did you mean it when you said everyone was waiting?”

“Everyone. It’s probably on TV by now.”

“What?” I turn on the TV.

“Our President Hamilton is proposing to the first lady and we’re waiting with bated breath to hear!”

Placards say I’LL MARRY YOU, HAMMY!

Others plead SAY YES!

I start to cry. All this time, I worried that I might not be good enough for him, that the public might not like the idea of me—and Matt just put all that to rest. Matt made them want me by his side merely because he told them truthfully that he wanted me there.

I cry because of the way they love him, because he has never really feared being himself with them, letting them see all of him, that he is not just the president but also human and a man, and I’m inspired again, and so in love I cannot stand it.

“Don’t just stand here! Don’t leave them all like that! They’re practically not breathing.”

“Baby, I’m practically not breathing.”

I look at him. “Summon Lola and tell her—do something—tell her to tell the press corps I said YES! How can I not say yes? Are you crazy?”

“I think we’ve already established that I am.”

Alison and Lola appear at the door. Suddenly everyone’s eyes are on me. I’m especially aware of Matt watching me, as if my reaction is crucial to solving some worldly problem.

I’m perplexed, once again wishing I knew what he was thinking as he turns back to Lola and Alison and smiles. “Look at the ring on Charlotte’s finger.”

Lola’s eyes widen in excitement.

Matt grins. “Take a shot, spread it out wide. It’ll speak more than a thousand words.”

“Charlotte!” Alison cries, and I walk over and we hug each other.

“Okay. Picture.” Alison realizes Matt—President Hamilton—is waiting and quickly steps back and takes an engagement shot of the two of us.

“Lola is going to be so busy,” I tell Matt, canting my head to meet his gaze.

“She’s always busy.”

“And you?” I can only imagine how hounded he’s going to be after this.

“I know someone who’s going to be even busier.” He flashes his wickedest smile at me as he crosses the room and lifts the phone. “Portia. Get the team ready. We have a wedding to plan.”

I duck my head as I try to wipe the lingering tears from the corners of my eyes. For sure my makeup is ruined. For sure you can even tell in the picture Alison took. But . . .