Georgie
I was going to be the first lady. I was going to be the first lady. Me. Was America nuts? I mean, Jameson was going to make the perfect president, but suddenly, I didn’t feel worthy of my new title. America, though, didn’t seem to care that I was entering into an arranged marriage. I worried that they voted only for the sensational storyline and not the qualifications. Jameson often struggled with this, and I finally understood why he shut me out. He wanted to be elected based on his qualifications. Our relationship distracted from that, and when Russell Hunt outed us, the same thing happened again. Now I shared the same concerns as Jameson. Why had the American people elected us?
“I need doughnuts,” I blurted out, when all my thoughts started to consume me.
“What?” Jameson asked.
“If I’m going to make it through today, I need doughnuts.” The security agent in the front seat started talking into his sleeve, giving instructions to pull into the next Dunkin Donuts.
With a box of fresh doughnuts and a large, iced dark roast with the appropriate amounts of cream and sugar, I felt more confident. Or at least, the sugar high gave me a false sense of security.
Our first stop was the campaign headquarters where Jameson would give a press conference. Elias Garcia was quick to make his concession call shortly after Jameson was projected the winner, so today’s speech was all about thanking the campaign staff, volunteers, and voters. I know because I wrote it.
We arrived to applause, and I felt myself begin to cry as I trailed Jameson. The campaign staff and volunteers lined up, and he made his way regally down the middle, shaking hands and hugging the staff. I did the same. I couldn’t help but feel proud of him. Of us. We suffered through so much in such a short amount of time. Now, we finally had the chance do exactly what we said on the campaign trail.
Jameson stopped and turned to face them all. I swiped at the tears that had strayed from my eyes. I stood with his staff and volunteers because I felt more like one of them; I wouldn’t be there if I didn’t believe in him.
He looked unbelievably handsome in his two-piece navy suit, white shirt, and bold red tie. His dark hair, inky black with a smattering of white, was perfectly parted back, and his icy blue eyes were filled with warmth and gratitude. Jameson raised his hands, signaling he wanted to speak.
“I want to thank each one of you for your hard work and dedication to this campaign. Thank you for standing by me when I’m sure many of you were ready to give up. There were definitely moments when I started to think that maybe being president wasn’t my destiny. But something always renewed my faith in the decision to run. Sometimes it came from the voters, sharing their stories with me, and sometimes it came from you, both paid and unpaid members of this campaign. You were out there, day after day, spreading my message, and I am grateful for your service. I hope to see some of you in the White House.”
There was a brief pause because everyone began to clap again. Avon and DeWayne arrived shortly after Jameson started talking, and Avon snaked her way through the crowd toward me. She grabbed my hand and looped it through her arm. DeWayne now stood next to Jameson, who acknowledged him with a handshake.
“DeWayne and I are looking forward to serving you and tackling the problems that need to be solved. We have a vision for America that we know you share, and we hope you’ll continue to support us now that the campaign is over.”
It was heartening to watch them all vocalize their continued support because these people didn’t care that Jameson asked me to pretend to be his fiancée, and they didn’t care if he was single, married, or other, because they had been with him from the beginning. They believed in him right from the start. And they welcomed me without any questions because they believed in me too.
Hands on my back propelled me forward, and I knew that Jameson was beckoning to me. It was time to take my place next to him, and the moment I stepped by his side and his hand slipped around my waist, drawing me close, I felt it. Some kind of official magic that signaled I was now a part of his dream. I finally felt like the first lady.
“I chose this woman. I’ll be honest, I was afraid that our arrangement would ruin everything we had worked so hard to achieve. I know that Georgie shared that same fear. But the moment I met her, I knew she was this campaign’s missing piece. She fit in so easily, diving headfirst into this campaign. And you welcomed her. You showed her what to do and taught her. Seeing her work side-by-side with you to win this election was a dream come true. That’s probably why I fell in love with her. I know I couldn’t have won this election without her or without any of you. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you.”
I turned my body to Jameson and stood on tiptoe with my face upturned. I slid my hand up his chest and around his neck, bringing his face down closer to mine so I could kiss him. Firmly. His grip on my waist tightened, and while I wanted to wrap my legs around him and kiss him some more, I had manners. There was another round of applause along with a chorus of hoots and hollers. Our kiss ended, and I promptly buried my face in Jameson’s neck.
“Let’s go, little darling,” Jameson said, leading me toward the front of campaign headquarters. “We’ve got to get reacquainted with America.”