Georgie
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I screeched the moment I laid eyes on Jameson. Unfortunately, we only had about twenty minutes of alone time because we were hosting a dinner for someone. I couldn’t remember because I was so angry.
“What do you mean?” Clearly, Jameson had no idea what mortal sin he had just committed as he stripped out of his suit and dressed for dinner.
“You humiliated me today in front of the entire press corps!”
“I defended you! And I also revoked the privileges of Tom Clayton too. You’re welcome.”
“Thank you. I do actually appreciate that. What I don’t appreciate is you going before the entire press corps and acting like a goddamn possessive caveman. I can stand up for myself.”
“Really? That’s why you chickened out of your press conference?”
“Fuck you, Jameson! You think you made everything all better because you went out there and told them all to stop writing mean things about me? You actually made things worse.”
I stormed out of the dressing room attached to our master suite and into the bathroom. I could feel the tears starting to burn, and I refused to let him see me cry. I was not weak. I plucked a tissue out of the box on the counter and dabbed at my eyes. The makeup artist just left, and I looked like shit. I fumbled through my makeup and did my best to fix what I’d ruined.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was gravelly, and I looked in the mirror to see him leaning against the doorframe. Even though I was furious with him, he still blew me away with his black hair and crystal-clear blue eyes. He wore black tuxedo pants and his freshly starched white shirt was open, revealing his firm chest.
“Go away,” I mumbled.
“Why? I want to discuss this. I didn’t realize—”
“Go away, because I want to be mad at you. I deserve to be mad at you, but I can’t when you’re standing there looking so fucking hot with your shirt unbuttoned. It’s not fair.”
And I swear, what he did next, he did on purpose. Jameson placed his hands on his hips, spreading his shirt open to reveal even more of his bare chest. “Okay, that’s reasonable,” he said. And then, because deep down he’s an asshole, he smirked before retreating to the bedroom.
We made it down to the dinner in record time, even though I seemed to be scrambling at the last minute for something to wear. As the first lady, I had to pay for my own clothing, and since I was pretty much nobody with no money, I didn’t have a large designer wardrobe to choose from, compared to the previous first ladies.
“You look nice,” Jameson commented as he escorted me down the stairs to the Blue Room where we would meet our guests, whom I still couldn’t remember.
I looked down at my modest black dress with sheer sleeves and a jeweled neckline. The stylist swept my hair up into an elegant French twist, and I managed to salvage my makeup into something decent.
“Thank you,” I replied, but I felt inadequate and underdressed next to him.
Our guests arrived—some high-profile donors, along with a few governors—and we all made our way to the state dining room. I was surprised to see Maxwell Edison stroll through the entrance and sit down next to one of the donors. Maybe tonight would be a good night to convince Jameson to let me tour more schools with Max.
I dutifully sat next to Jameson and made boring conversations with the wives of the governors and donors. They were all elegant and seemed to be dripping in jewels and money. Beneath the table, I fingered the hem of my dress. It was something I’d owned for years and probably bought to wear to a high school dance I chaperoned. All the gorgeous clothing I wore during the campaign was borrowed and returned. I kept only a few pieces, which Jameson bought for me.
“You don’t look thrilled to be here,” a smooth, familiar voice said. I turned to see that Max Edison had replaced one of the boring wives. I hated the way I immediately perked up.
“It’s just been a difficult day.”
“I saw that press conference. What a shit show,” he muttered.
I smiled thinly. “Jameson’s heart was in the right place.”
Max placed a hand over his heart and howled. “Wow! Spoken like a true politician.”
I laughed. “I don’t know if I should be offended by that.”
“Don’t be. You have to learn how to play this game if you want to survive in DC.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“Of course, I am,” he said with a wink.
We were deep in conversation for most of the night, and even though I should have felt selfish for monopolizing his time, I didn’t. I also should have been attentive to Jameson, who kept glancing over at us frequently.
“There are some really great schools in the area you need to visit. I think it’s important for you to become well-acquainted with the administrators,” Max was telling me, but I was distracted by the smolder Jameson was shooting my way.
Shaking myself out of my daze, I focused back on Max. “I’m sorry. Yes, absolutely. I would love to visit some of the schools in the area and talk to their teachers and administrators. I’ll have Mallory, my new chief of very little staff, start arranging that.”
“Very impressive.”
“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” Jameson’s smooth, deep voice cut into our conversation, and his hand rested on my shoulder. “Georgie, I want to introduce you to someone. Do you mind if I steal her?”
“Not at all,” Max replied.
Jameson extended his hand in front of me, and I took it easily. I stood and nodded toward Max before Jameson whisked me away to the opposite end of the massive dining room.
“You two looked very cozy,” Jameson said through gritted teeth.
“We were having a very friendly and easy conversation. He knows I want to start going out and touring schools in the area, so he made some suggestions for me.”
“And did he also suggest that he accompany you?”
“No, he didn’t. But his confirmation is coming up soon. Don’t you think it’s good that he’s meeting with people in Washington?”
Jameson sighed heavily. “I guess it’s good. He should be schmoozing senators, though, not my fiancée.”
“Well, I’ll have Mallory make arrangements and then talk to Avon about going with me.”
“Thank you,” he said, kissing my cheek lightly. “I want to ask you a question, and I want you to be honest with me.”
“Jameson, do you really want to have a serious conversation right now? We’ve got a room full of guests who want to speak with you.”
He looked past me, and the small clusters formed around the room. Dinner was finished, so now everyone was enjoying coffee and dessert—whoopie pies.
“You’re right. It can wait.”
I transitioned back into my role for the rest of the night, playing hostess alongside Jameson. I couldn’t escape the feeling of inadequacy around these people, though; as if somehow, I was just an interloper. Jameson picked up on my anxiety and firmly held my hand. When the night ended, I was ready to collapse.
Clutching my heels in one hand, I trailed Jameson as we made our way back to the second floor of the private residence.
“Was something bothering you tonight? Were you still upset over what I said during the press briefing?” We were in our bedroom, shedding all our finery, which relieved me. I felt like myself in a pair of baggy sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. There was no more pretending.
“It’s nothing, Jameson. Don’t worry about it,” I said, trying to ignore the conversation.
“Georgie, I watched you tonight. For most of the night, you were totally miserable. The only time you enjoyed yourself was when you were talking to Max.”
“And when I was shoving whoopie pies in my mouth,” I added.
“You’re not getting out of this conversation. I want you to tell me. You’re always yelling at me to be open and honest with you, and I want the same thing.”
I sighed and sagged down onto the padded bench at the foot of the bed. “Fine. It was weird being around all those wives.”
“Why? Because we’re not married?”
“No. Because they were wearing all these fancy dresses that probably cost a boatload of money, and they were covered in jewels. And I was wearing a dress I’ve owned for probably five years, that I wore to a high school homecoming dance. I even felt self-conscious standing next to you.”
“So go shopping. Fill up your closet with whatever you want.”
“But I don’t have any money for that, Jameson. I didn’t take the five-million dollars, remember? The president and the first lady have to pay for all their clothes and stuff. I have like negative forty-three dollars in my checking account.”
“Georgie, you have my money. I don’t care if you spend it.”
“Then I’ll be accused of being a gold digger. It’s a double-edged sword, Jameson.”
“Eventually, you’re just going to have to deal with it, Georgie. Not everybody is going to like you. You’re always going to have critics. Just use the money and get whatever you want. I don’t care. I only care about you being happy.”
I slumped against the edge of the bed. He was right; I’d have to deal with the inequality in our relationship one way or the other. “Fine.”
“Most women are excited about shopping, Georgie. I don’t understand what the big deal is about the money. When we get married, everything that belongs to me will become yours.”
“That’s different, Jameson.”
“I don’t see any difference. You don’t have to be my wife in order for me to support you.”
“Ugh. This conversation is driving me toward the kitchen and the chocolate chip cookies that I know are hiding in the Teddy Roosevelt cookie jar.”
But I didn’t leave the room because cookies weren’t the answer, even though they really seemed like it. Jameson would never understand what it felt like to be dragged in the press the way I was because he was a man. He didn’t face the same level of scrutiny; no one accused him of sleeping his way to the White House.
“I’ll ask Avon to help me. Maybe we can go shopping between visiting schools and hospitals.” I caved because it was the only thing to do.
“You’re going to start visiting schools?”
“And hospitals,” I added.
“But what about hiring your staff? Getting tours up and running?”
“I hired a chief of staff. I really feel like I need to be seen doing positive things to escape all the horrible things that are being written about me and our relationship.”
“Georgie, a chief of staff isn’t enough. The previous first lady had like a staff of thirty-five people.”
What the hell? What did all those people do? Mallory was enough for now. I’d hire more people when the time came.
“I’ll take care of it, Jameson. Just let me have this little bit of freedom, okay?”
Nothing else was said, and silently, I claimed victory as Jameson relented. I scurried into bed, eager to plan out the next few weeks. When Mallory arrived tomorrow in the East Wing to officially begin her job, she’d have an inbox full of requests waiting for her.