The President's Wife - Kathy Myme Page 0,82

pushed me down onto the mattress, the weight of his body anchoring my own. “I’ve stopped caring about what the public think. There’s one specific person that I do, in fact, value the opinion of…”

I’d played along. “Yeah? And who’s that?”

“My future wife.” He pressed his mouth to mine. “It’s a lot of money, Veronica. But I have a sneaking suspicion that you want our wedding to be pretty spectacular.”

It’s not that I’m recklessly wanting to spend crazy amounts of money or anything. But this wedding feels like a symbol to me in a lot of ways.

It’s a celebration showing how real David and I are. How real our love is.

Every milestone we’ve gone through (our engagement dinner, for example) has been lovely, but it’s also felt… fake, in a way. Like David and I have been performing for other people. Putting on a show for them.

This is the first chance I’ve had to exercise complete control over an event. For once, it’s been up to me to decide how we celebrate our love.

So yeah, I might have gone a bit overboard. Thank god David is happy with me taking over.

We’re getting married back in Cali. It was my choice in the end, but David had suggested it.

For a while I thought we’d be tied down to a DC wedding, seeing as David has so much work to do. But he actually insisted that we find a venue elsewhere. That we take matters into our own hands.

So when I wake up, it’s in my sleepy childhood bedroom. The place where I spent so many years as a girl. It’s a weird contrast, considering today is the day I’m meant to become a woman.

“Did you sleep alright?” Dad asks anxiously when I come downstairs. “David left about an hour ago.”

“Do you know where he went?” I ask.

“He said something about going over reports before handing things over to his Vice President for your honeymoon.” Dad shrugs. “But don’t worry about that. You have more important things to take care of.” He checks his watch. “And if I’m not mistaken… more important people.”

He’s not wrong. When there’s a knock on the door that morning, I’m greeted by a familiar sight. Friends from my hometown that I haven’t seen with ages flood the room.

“Are you excited?” Lacey asks. She’s in charge of doing my hair, of course. She’s done a wonderful job. “Or are the butterflies more of the nervous kind?”

“Who wouldn’t be nervous right before she marries the President?” I ask, smiling. It still feels surreal to say, even if David and I had all that practice with being fake engaged.

“I still can’t believe it…” She sighs. “One of my oldest friends is becoming the First Lady. Like, for real.”

“Do you think it’s weird?” I ask.

“I think it’s wonderful,” she answers. “The President has never looked happier, Veronica. And neither have you.”

The morning flies by in a whirl. When my friends step away from me, I know it’s time. I’m ready.

My dress is beautiful. The heart-shaped neckline suits my body well, and the tailors have done a good job at making the fabric curve along with my body.

The coaches arrive to take us to the venue. It’s a beautiful venue, far more expensive than I ever could have afforded by myself. The journey there feels as if it’s over in an instant, but I’m glad time is moving so quickly.

Every second is bringing me closer to being David’s husband. To being his First Lady.

Of course we catch sight of paparazzi along the way. Even with Andrews gone, information and rumor still spread like wildfire sometimes, especially when things are of national interest.

And the President’s wedding? That’s a big deal.

Every trashy news station had been reporting on nothing but our upcoming nuptials for weeks now. There’s been some demand for the President to ensure the whole wedding is streamed to live TV.

Our new Press Secretary, the one David had hired to replace Andrews, actually pushed for us to do that. She showed David several polls showing the positive boosts it would have on his opinion ratings.

I’ve never been more proud than when David shut that idea down immediately. Our wedding is for us and the people we choose to share it with.

A pang of nervousness hits me when we pull up outside the venue. It’s time.

“I’m so proud of you,” my dad says when he sees me, his eyes filling with tears.

“Dad…” I say self-consciously, touching my dress. “I…”

“Go out there and get him, Veronica,” he says. “You’re going to have a wonderful life together.”

“I love you, Dad,” I say softly.

And then I walk through the venue doors.

Immediately my eyes are drawn to the only thing of importance. David waiting for me at the other end. He looks as flawlessly handsome as ever with his stuffy president gear traded in for a nice black tuxedo.

In that moment, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life. I’m here with my friends and family, them watching me get married to the man I love.

When David’s eyes meet mine from across the room, I know that our future together is going to be incredible.

Today my President becomes my husband. And whatever challenges face him during his time in the White House, we’re going to face them together. As husband and wife.