For the Record (Record #3)(50)

“You already have,” Clay teased her. Their eyes locked and a moment passed between them before Andrea scoffed at the attention.

“Don’t make fun of her work. She’s the f*cking shit, Clay.”

Clay raised his hands to fend her off. “Who am I to talk about the things you love in life?” he asked with a teasing smile.

Liz extracted herself and walked toward Brady just as Savannah entered the room.

“What was that all about?” Brady asked as she slid into her seat.

“Girl stuff.”

“With Clay,” he corrected.

“Probably wants to piss off his girlfriend,” Liz offered.

“Or me.”

“Not everything is about you.” She glanced over at Clay and Andrea and saw them glaring at each other, but there was something about them that showed that they cared. Maybe it was the years that they had been together, or maybe she was just imagining it, but she was pretty sure she had seen something pass between Clay and Andrea that almost seemed like affection.

Savannah took her seat between Easton and Lucas and sent Liz a sly smile. Stuck between two guys, what a rough life.

Glancing around the table at her family, Brady’s family, and all of their friends, Liz couldn’t help but admire the entire group. Everyone she cared most about was sitting at this table right now, and they all looked completely comfortable. Well, aside from Savannah.

Liz’s parents chatted easily with Brady’s parents. Victoria was making somewhat pleasant, albeit inappropriate, conversation with Lucas. Daniel was leaning over the table to talk to Marilyn about his and Victoria’s decision to go to Johns Hopkins. Brady was trying to get to know Easton, and Savannah had just said that she wouldn’t mind Liz as a sister. It all felt so right.

A waiter came around and filled champagne flutes for everyone except Alice, who was only sixteen.

“Excuse me, everyone. I’d like to propose a toast,” Brady said, sliding out of his chair. “To Ms. Liz Dougherty, for being the most beautiful, brilliant, strong-willed, caring, and gracious woman I have ever met in my life. Congratulations on completing your degree. You’ll always look back on these days with fond remembrance, but this is most assuredly only the beginning of a very successful and prolific career.” Brady raised his glass. “To Liz and Victoria.”

Everyone raised their glass and toasted Liz’s and Victoria’s graduations.

Liz’s smile couldn’t have been bigger as she stared up at the man she loved. Seeing the adoration on his face made the rest of this day have even more meaning. He was right. She had felt it at the ceremony. This was just the start of her life.

Chapter 17

POSTGRAD STRESS

Liz’s parents left the next day with all the reluctance that was to be expected, offering to help pay for things if she needed it, and encouraging her to continue to pursue her dreams. As if there were another option for her.

Her first article went live on the website that week. Liz had very low expectations for an article about education policy in an online magazine. She was just proud that she was published all on her own and received her first paycheck from it. Brady celebrated by taking her out for frozen yogurt and the most normal thing he could think of: they went and saw a movie.

He had to be back in D.C. for the week, and since she had no other plans at the moment, she agreed to go with him. When they were seated in first class, Liz pulled up her email and saw she had something from the website.

Dear Miss Dougherty:

Your recent article has been quoted in the Washington Post regarding the upcoming education policy bill that is in the House of Representatives at the moment. Our traffic on the article has quadrupled in a matter of hours. Would you be interested in writing a follow-up article? We could post it next week.

Please respond to let us know if you are interested, as this is a timely piece. Also, we would like permission to publish your name for the article so that you receive the credit in the feature.

Sincerely,

Tom Vernon

Editor

Liz read and reread the short email until she thought she might burst. Her article had not only done well, but it had been quoted in the Washington Post. She went in search of the article and, after seeing her quote with a link to her article, she literally squealed.

Brady’s eyes got big as he turned to look at her.

“Sorry,” she said, lowering her voice. “Check this out.”

She passed over the computer to him and he scanned the email. “You were quoted in the Post?” he asked.

“Yeah. Look.” She showed him the article.

“Congratulations! This is your first article too.”

“I know. I’m kind of freaking out,” she said, bouncing up and down.

“They want you to publish with your name,” he pointed out.

“Yeah. I’ll deal with that, but, Brady . . . my paper is quoted in the Washington Post,” she repeated.

“Baby, I’m happy for you, but you know you can’t post your name.”

“I know,” she said softly.

And she did know. The press was already having a field day with their relationship, not to mention how it would look to the campaign. The media would probably think that she was just trying to feed the public Brady’s agenda or something equally likely to make her look like a biased journalist. Plus, she liked the idea of having a little slice of something that she could control. Seeing her words in print again, even without her name attached to them, was exhilarating. It showed her that her work was still valued and not garnering attention just because of all the extra drama that seemed to be attached to her name lately.