Madame President - Tara Sue Me Page 0,5

sense standing before her today, something I haven’t seen in her in years, though I can’t say with certainty what it is. I almost want to say it’s a vulnerability, but that can’t be it, because that makes her seem weak, and she’s not weak. Not at all.

I realize that even in my assessment, I have vastly underestimated the force that is Anna Fitzpatrick. There’s more than knowledge between us, but at the moment, I can’t assign a name to it.

Chapter Four

Her

GBNC Office

New York City, New York

The mask is firmly in place as I stand in Navin’s office. It’s strangely unnerving being in his presence again. Years ago, it seemed as if we could communicate without words at times. The way he’s looking at me now suggest the connection is still there, and he senses my unease.

I try to tell myself I’m only feeling this way because he knew me before. Before I was President Elect, a presidential candidate, or even a congresswoman. He knew me when I was a nobody in law school. It has nothing to do with the fact that it’s him. Nothing at all. Deep inside, I don’t believe that at all, but it’s enough for now. Enough to get me through the reason I came here.

A flicker of something familiar flits across his face and I suck my breath in, hating myself at once because I know he didn’t miss the sound.

“Too long,” he finally says, responding to my earlier statement.

In the years that have passed since we last saw each other, I often wondered if I ever crossed his mind. That I did is obvious in his two word reply. I don’t feel the satisfaction I thought I would, however. Instead the knowledge only creates new questions.

“Please excuse my complete lack of manners,” he says, holding his hand out to one of the plush leather chairs off to the side of his desk. I take a seat in one, keeping my knees pressed together, legs off to one side. He joins me seconds later in the other chair, still talking. “I confess your appearance today has caught me by surprise.”

I think about apologizing, but don’t since leaving him discombobulated is one of my goals for this meeting. “I’m afraid my first question will do little to ease that particular feeling.”

His smile is tight. “I had a feeling that would be the case.”

“Have you told anyone that we…” I start, wondering how he’s going to finish the question.

“That we knew each other when we were in the same class at Harvard Law?” he asks.

I both love and hate his answer, and only nod in reply.

“No,” he says. “I’ve never thought my personal life was anyone’s business. Then when you announced you were running for president, and I thought about it again, I couldn’t think of a way to bring it up that didn’t sound like I was a sleazy tabloid reporter. Have you told anyone?”

“No,” I whisper, my cheeks heating at the thought of discussing that period of time in my life with anyone.

Navin and I attended Harvard Law together, before he left midway through our second year. Our class felt different after that, empty and dull. He had been such a dynamic force, but I didn’t realize how much so until he wasn’t there anymore.

I remember my reaction the first time I saw him behind the news desk at GBNC. It had been years after he vanished and I probably could have sought him out or tried to see what happened. But I was too embarrassed and figured if he didn’t tell me or reach out, there was a reason. So I purposefully never let myself think of him again until that day—his chiseled features and strong jawline, matched with dark hair and eyes. The camera loved him. But oddly enough, it was his mind I recalled. He’d been brilliant in law school, often talking about his plans to become a judge. His passion for law and justice palpable in every word. Yet, after seeing him on TV, and knowing where I could find him, I still ignored his existence.

Until now.

Sitting in his office today, I wonder what happened, how it was he ended up here, when his passion had been elsewhere? I’d never heard why he dropped out of school, but I’ve always been curious. Curious about a lot of things.

It is not, however, anything I would dare bring up. It would be rude and I have no reason to ask. On the