Commander in Chief (White House #2)(61)

I open my eyes and see him gazing back at me, his eyes brilliant and deep, tender and soothing. “I’m here, baby.”





36





JUNIOR





Charlotte



Eighteen minutes after he walked into the hospital, Matthew Hamilton holds his firstborn son.

I’ve never been so proud to be his first lady.

He caresses my cheek, pride shining in his eyes. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I say, smiling weakly.

“He looks like you, Mr. President,” I hear.

He winks at me, his arms all for his son, his eyes all for me—staying on mine for a long time, like mine stay on his. Then he looks down at our son, his eyes raking him up and down, glimmering with happiness after I know the night he faced was probably the darkest night of all. “He’s perfect, baby,” he says, then presses a kiss to my forehead.

He leaves his lips there for long, delicious seconds, as if he wants to brand that kiss on me. I feel his love for me down to the marrow of my bones.

When he eases back to smile at me, his tortured eyes show me the pain he’s witnessed, the darkness that will always stay. It sends my pulse spinning, a need to comfort him hitting me with such force, it’s overwhelming.

I reach out to hold the back of his head, trying to cradle him even though I’m in bed and weak, and he’s the one standing, the one holding it together—like he always is.

Once in my private room, with my parents, Matt’s mother, his grandfather, and Matt, I watch his address to the nation from his desk in the Oval on TV, one that was aired while I was delivering.

He’s wearing a somber black tie and black suit, and he looks directly at the camera as he speaks. “As of twenty-two hundred hours, we engaged in air combat over the hostile region of Islar. The mission was successful. We have confirmation that the five terrorists behind the attack have perished.”

Silence.

“These are sad times for us as a country, every time one of us dies to ensure that here, we can keep on living our lives to their fullest. We need to honor those sacrifices, ensure that we continue prospering as we have until now, not only financially, but as human beings. Now more than ever we need to stand together. We need to fight the fights that matter. For freedom, for security, for our loved ones. We’re a kaleidoscope, all different, but what unites us is our love of this country. Our pride in being American. American we were born. American we will die.”

There were two American casualties. The media called it a victory, but Matt and I know better. No one wins in a war. But you protect your own. We don’t have only one son; the citizens of the United States are our family.



Two days later, I’m allowed back home, and Matt and I have to plan a whole process of introducing the baby to Jack.

Down the hall from our bedroom, I decorated the baby’s room by having the walls painted with pastel-colored forests and installing a white crib with a baby-blue coverlet. So many baby toys have arrived since the announcement of him being a boy, we’ve donated at least two-thirds of them to charities. This is one privileged little boy, and I’ve been amazed by the love our baby has been getting from America.

For the first few weeks until he sleeps through the night, though, I settle him with me in the Queens’ Bedroom across the hall from Matt, where I have a crib set up and a rocking chair, and I wait in the rocking chair with the baby blinking up at the ceiling in wonder as Matt brings Jack to the door.

“Come here, boy,” he says, striding across the room.

Jack drops to his haunches, warily crawling across the room to where Matt now stands before me.

“It’s Matthew Junior,” I say, shifting slightly forward to let Jack sniff him.

The baby makes a soft, happy gurgling sound and Jack’s tail starts wagging, and I glance up at Matt, and as my hot husband smiles a quiet I told you so, I sigh in relief. I was mildly concerned Jack would be a danger to Matthew Jr.

But I’m already realizing he’ll be our son’s mischief buddy for sure.

Oops.





37





MEDAL OF HONOR





Charlotte



“Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States, Matthew Hamilton, accompanied by the Medal of Honor recipient, Sergeant Swan.”

After what happened the day Matthew Jr. was born, a hero emerged. General Swan is visiting the White House today, where he’ll receive the highest recognition, the Medal of Honor.

He proved his courage in the Middle East when his unit was ambushed, braving enemy fire and ignoring injuries as he tended to wounded comrades.

I know that nothing weighs more heavily on Matt’s shoulders than sending our men and women into danger, and he told me that being a man who always admired those who served in the military, and having failed to do so himself, this is the greatest honor he’s ever been bestowed, next to being president—to be able to award this medal to those who serve, and serve so well.

I watch from the chairs lining the room as both men walk up to the podium, Matt sharp in a blue suit, the sergeant in his uniform, as Matthew addresses the audience.

“Courage is not a virtue we are born with. It is a virtue we exercise—a choice that we make. Courage is when our men and women selflessly volunteer to defend our country, and keep us safe.” He keeps it short. Simple. As he removes the medal from the box, he walks up to the sergeant.