Madame President - Tara Sue Me Page 0,63
if perhaps they were behind me when I run smack into someone and, inadvertently, knock whoever it is down.
“Ow!” They say from their spot on the floor, and the voice is all too familiar.
Shit. “Anna…. I mean Madame President,” I stammer, embarrassed because I knocked her down and yet I also feel surreal because it’s as if I summoned her to me. “Are you okay?”
I reach out my hand to help her up, but she doesn’t take it. She stands and brushes herself off. “Yes, of course I’m fine. Maybe a little flustered because I thought I was alone.”
“Rather late to be walking around, isn’t it?” I ask her.
“I’ve found it helps with the insomnia and the White House is so different this time of night compared to how it is in the middle of the day.”
She looks different tonight, and it’s not because she’s wearing black knit lounge pants with a gray tee-shirt, and no makeup. No, there’s something almost vulnerable about her. And while I like the thought of her exploring the White House, I hate that she does it because she can’t sleep, and that she’s by herself.
She arches an eyebrow at me. I want to ask her if she practiced that move in a mirror before doing it in public, but she beats me by asking me a question first. “What’s your excuse for being here this time of night?”
I weigh my options. I either lie or tell her the truth. She probably won’t like either answer, but I’d rather her dislike the truth than to appease her with a lie. “You,” I say. We’re close enough that I can reach out and touch her if I dare. I lift my hand and she doesn’t move away. I slip my fingers behind her neck, to cup her head and dig my fingers into her hair. “You’re the reason I’m here.”
“Me?” she asks in a whisper of a sound.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I lower my head to where my breath is brushing her cheek. “Because I don’t want to be lonely tonight.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Her
The White House
Washington DC
Oddly enough, there’s a part of my brain that is still able to function. It’s the very, very reasonable part of my brain, and it keeps repeating the same basic message. I should walk away. I should ask him to leave. If nothing else, I should at least take a step back so I can’t feel the warmth of his breath against my skin or how good his fingers feel buried in my hair.
The rest of my body wants nothing to do with anything reasonable and isn’t the least bit interested in listening to what the other part is saying.
Okay, so maybe I lied earlier today when I made that remark about not being lonely. The truth is, I’m often lonely, but I always assumed it to be a side effect of wearing a mask all the time. How can anyone really get to know you if they never meet the real you?
That’s not entirely true, though, I realize. Somehow, Navin sees past the image I project to the woman I am inside.
“Tell me you don’t want to be lonely tonight, either.” He’s captured my face between his hands and the look in his eyes...I’ve never seen such naked need before.
Could it be he’s as lonely as I am? I don’t think it’s possible, but obviously he knows something about how it feels.
And he came back for me tonight. Just happened to be where I was walking. Is that fate? Probably not. Probably, it’s me justifying what I want. Because right now I want in a way I have never wanted before. That truth is right in front of me if I’m brave enough to acknowledge its existence.
“I don’t want to be lonely tonight, either,” I admit. It hits me that maybe he’s the reason I couldn’t sleep tonight. That something inside me knew he’d be back and waiting for me downstairs.
Whatever force brought us together tonight is no longer present. It’s only the two of us. And whatever we want. I hold out my hand to him, my choice made. I can belong to the country every other moment of every day and night of my presidency. Tonight I only belong to me.
And him.
“Come with me,” I say but there really isn’t a need, he’s already following me.
There’s no way to avoid being seen. No matter where we go, someone will be nearby. Just as well, I’ve never been good at sneaking around. It always