Epilogue

 

Over three years had passed since Adam’s election, and we were working hard on his new campaign. The American people loved him, loved us, so we knew he had a great chance at a second term.

“Never take anything for granted,” he reminded me as I reassured him he’d be elected again. I poked him in the ribs and smiled. My smile turned to a look of astonishment and wonder as I saw what he did next.

He dropped to one knee, held out a black box, and slowly opened it to reveal a gorgeous diamond engagement ring.

“Quinn, I’ll never take you for granted again for as long as I live. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?” Adam asked.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I jumped up and down, squealing like a kid at the circus. I’d dreamed of this day ever since we’d told the world about our love, but I figured it would be after re-election, and not a minute before.

“Yes!” I screamed, jumping into his arms.

The people were just as gracious about the proposal when it was announced, as they had been about our relationship. Venues were begging for us to hold our big day there, designers were sending me wedding dresses to try, and the American people were sending notes of encouragement, tips for a long and happy marriage, and even offers to help plan, execute, or clean up on our wedding day. It was overwhelming.

“I love that story,” Rowena sighed, looking at me with a pride that made me feel like our mother was in the room, in her.

My girlfriends from college were all dressed in pink dresses, ready to walk down the aisle of the little church in Minnesota. It was my mother’s church, the one she’d gone to faithfully twice a week until the day she died.

I didn’t want a big fancy wedding, or a big expensive designer gown. A guest list with hundreds of people I didn’t know just didn’t seem right to me, and Adam agreed.

“It’s just about us, our love, and sharing it with those who truly matter,” Adam said sweetly when I told him about my plans.

I couldn’t be happier, and telling the story of our courtship, our engagement, to my dearest friends whom I hadn’t seen since college, or even high school—well, that was my dream.

“So, you didn’t see Adam last night?” Lora asked, my roommate from college.

I blushed, not wanting to admit to Rowena that she hadn’t guarded me as well as she thought. “He snuck over,” I giggled.

Rowena’s eyes widened. “What do you mean he snuck over?” she asked.

The girls all giggled, and I smiled a sly—but shy—smile at my older sister. “I snuck him in the window last night,” I admitted.

She shook her head. “Figures. He can’t stand being away from you,” she sighed lovingly.

The music started playing in the church, an old organ that my mother had played for the Christmas play while the original organist played the role of Mary. It was beautifully out of tune, too loud, and exactly what I wanted to hear on this special day.

The girls all lined up, stepping out of the small room one by one to meet their groomsmen to walk down the aisle.

“Are you okay?” Rowena asked quietly.

I squeezed her hand tightly. “Yes. This is a dream come true,” I said.

“I’m sorry Mom isn’t here,” she said.

“She is,” I told her, feeling in my heart that she was around… somewhere.

Adam wore a black tux and stood at the altar like my Prince Charming, of course—but with the added effect of the Secret Service standing at each door of the church.

Rowena walked me down the aisle, gave me away, and I took my first steps toward my soon-to-be husband.

I couldn’t tell you the words, not the exact ones that the preacher used, but I can relive the feeling of love I felt in that moment every time I see Adam smile.

“Do you have any regrets?” I asked softly as the preacher announced us husband and wife.

“Only that I didn’t marry you sooner,” Adam replied, and then he pulled me in for a long, passionate kiss.

“Who cares who’s watching,” he’d told me during our rehearsal. “I’m gonna kiss you like I always do.”

We were whisked away to a secret honeymoon spot, not one I can mention. I plan to use it again, and again, having all of our yearly anniversaries there, so that secret-that one, we’re keeping.

I was officially the first lady, and with that came great responsibility, so Michael took over my position in the White House, or at least some of it. I was still the person who had the last say on anything involving Adam’s personal appearances, his wardrobe, and his social scheduling.

The people proved to like a working first lady. When election time came around, Adam won by a landslide, of course.

Going to the White House, working in politics, no, it wasn’t my dream. Or, at least I didn’t think it was, or ever could be.

Adam, yes, he was always my dream, and so by accepting my place on his campaign, it was obvious I was hoping—okay, dreaming—for romance.

I found it, and I found that dreams aren’t always what you think they are. They are what you make them.

 

MR LIEUTENANT

By Ivy Jordan

 

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

 

Copyright © 2017 Ivy Jordan