Jameson
“There is no fucking way she’s going to Finland, or any other Scandinavian country, with Maxwell fucking Edison.” All my closest confidants—Sean, DeWayne, and Elias Garcia—all stared at me while I raged behind my desk in the Oval Office. I called them in for a meeting because I needed them to talk me off the proverbial ledge.
“What if Avon went with her?” Sean suggested. I had considered this last night after Georgie fell asleep.
“Avon is not Georgie’s chaperone!” DeWayne replied. He looked point-blank at me and said, “Don’t you even think about it.”
Holding up my hands in mock surrender, I shook my head. “Never even crossed my mind.”
“Be diplomatic. Offer an alternative suggestion.” Everyone in the room turned to look at Elias, who began to sound more and more like Yoda. Compared to him, we were acting like a bunch of clueless Neanderthals. Elias rolled his eyes and sighed. “Maybe she could speak with our country’s education leaders, state superintendents, principals from across the country.”
“That sounds like a good idea, James,” Sean added. He was right and so was Elias. This was a brilliant solution to my dilemma. Georgie wanted to feel like I supported her. If I put my foot down about going to Europe with Max, Georgie and I would hit another impasse in our relationship. She’d continue to see me as possessive and unsupportive, and I wasn’t confident our relationship could handle another test.
“I’ll run it by her.” Truthfully, I didn’t think she’d buy the idea, but I had to try. Between meetings, I slipped my phone from my suit jacket and sent her a text.
ME: Finland and Scandinavia are out of the question. How about a compromise?
GW: Are you kidding me right now?
ME: Compromise, little darling. Just hear me out.
GW: Fine. You can share the details of your “compromise” with me over dinner.
Georgie was playing hardball. There was no easy way out of this; she was going to make me squirm. I didn’t know whether I should feel lucky to finally share a meal with her. Based solely on my previous attempts, this one could end in disaster.
It was later than expected when I finally made it back to the private residence and met Georgie for dinner. She didn’t like to eat in the formal dining room when it was just the two of us, so we often dined at the large island in the kitchen. And that was where I found her, sitting on a stool, pushing a piece of cheesecake around her plate. That wasn’t a good sign.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, coming up behind her and planting a firm kiss on the side of her head. Georgie was a gorgeous woman, but today she looked stunningly elegant in a navy blue skirt and ivory blouse. Her hair fell in loose waves down her back, and my fingers itched to bury themselves in the silky soft strands.
“Why don’t you want to get married, Jameson?”
Shit. This was going to be another one of those disastrous dinners. I sighed and sat down on the stool next to her. The chef placed a plate in front of me, but I hardly recognized what was on the plate because I focused entirely on Georgie. She looked miserable.
“Georgie, I thought we went through all this already. We both have very hectic schedules. We’ve only been in the White House for six months. What’s the rush?”
“There isn’t a rush, Jameson. But you’re the most powerful man on the planet right now. If you wanted to marry me, then you could easily make it happen.”
“I can’t just put the world on hold while I get married and go on a honeymoon.”
She pushed the plate away from her and sighed heavily. “You could if you really wanted to. You could even rule from a cabana on the beach.”
“I don’t want to work while we’re on our honeymoon. I want to be able to focus entirely on you and on us.”
“That sounds absolutely perfect, Jameson, but it won’t happen for at least three more years, maybe even seven.”
It was time to change the subject. I wasn’t going to win any points with the conversation. “I thought we were going to discuss the ‘great compromise’ tonight?”
“Oh, right. Something else you’re denying me.”
My temperature was rising because Georgie was acting like a spoiled brat. “I’m not denying you anything, Georgie. Before you go jetting halfway around the world with Maxwell Edison, why don’t you stop and learn from the top educational professionals here? We can hold an educational summit and invite them to the White House to discuss their successes and failures. They can tell you what they need help with instead of you telling them.”
I saw the light bulbs begin to mentally click on in her mind. She knew that I was onto something, and that this was an acceptable compromise.
“That is a good idea, Jameson. I’ll talk to Max about it tomorrow.”
I grunted. “I thought you were giving another tour tomorrow. Isn’t there a group coming from New Hampshire?”
Georgie pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and worked it back and forth while she thought about her schedule. “You’re right. I forgot. I’ll call Max and push back our meeting.”
She softened toward me, and I took the opportunity to pounce. I covered her hand with mine and then turned her stool until she faced me. “Now, let’s get back to this wedding business.”
“Jameson, I’m really tired. Just drop it. When you’re ready, you know where to find me.”
“You started this conversation, and now I’m going to finish it. When I say I want to marry you, I’m not lying. I do. But a wedding is not my priority right now. I know that hurts you, but I need to feel confident in my position as president before we take that step.”
She nodded with understanding, but I saw pools of fresh tears getting ready to flow down her cheeks. I placed my finger under her chin and tilted her face so that I could look directly into those captivating emeralds. “Have faith in me, Georgie. That’s all I’m asking for.”
“I do have faith in you, Jameson. That’s why I’m willing to wait for you. I love you.”
“I love you too,” I whispered back. It felt like a lifetime since I last told her that and maybe she needed to hear that more often. Maybe I needed to make a conscious effort to tell her and show her how much I loved her. That was one change I could easily make.
A quick scan of the news on my laptop later that night revealed the source of Georgie’s melancholy. The interview with Judy Mendoza aired and was getting lots of attention. Everyone was quick to criticize me and accuse me of using Georgie just to get into the White House. Nothing could be further from the truth, but of course, no one was interested in the actual truth.
I looked over at the literal sleeping beauty next to me, and my heart broke. How many times had she asked me for the simplest of things, only to be denied? Would there ever be a time when I would hurt her so badly that she would leave me? I hoped never to find out that answer.
Reaching out, I lightly stroked the exposed flesh of her back. She traded in t-shirts and stretch pants for pretty lingerie in silky fabrics because I favored them. She made this change for me. I was such a selfish bastard.
The next morning, I took my time getting ready instead of rushing around our bedroom. Georgie was preparing to head down to meet the tour group from New Hampshire, and while she got ready, I made sure to brush her bare shoulder with my lips or to sweep a hand across her hip. I wanted her to leave the private residence feeling my touch and tasting my kiss. I wanted my words to echo in her mind over and over and drowned out all her fears and doubts.
“Georgie,” I called out just as she was getting ready to leave. “I love you.”
She smiled brightly, her cherry red lips forming a full wide grin that filled her entire face. And then she lifted her palm to her lips and blew me a kiss.