Chapter 21

Henry

My chin rests against my fist as I look at the starry sky through the window.

Each star sparkles wondrously, and I wonder if there’s anyone else out there looking up at these same stars in awe—and with love.

I don’t want to rush things so quickly and say that what I’m feeling for Bea is love. To do so feels like it would jinx what’s growing between us.

But, admittedly, I’ve never felt this way about a woman before.

My life has changed the moment I first laid eyes on Beatrice, and our night together has intensified that change.

So, yes, I don’t want to say it’s love, but it’s hard to think of another word that accurately describes what I’m feeling for her.

I turn away from the window to look over at Bea.

She’s sleeping soundly in bed, still in her clothes from today, and I can’t help smiling.

I get up from the desk and leave the room so that she can sleep peacefully.

I’m halfway to the galley when Lawrence finds me in the corridor.

“About time I found you.”

“Sorry, I was meeting with Beatrice. We were going over the trip.”

“Which is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Alright. I’m on my way to the galley. Care to join me for a late-night snack?”

“You know, a bologna sandwich sounds real good right now.”

My longtime friend smiles, and I pat him on the shoulder as we start toward the galley.

Bologna sandwiches have been a staple in our diets for a long time. I’ve lost track of all the countless nights we’ve stayed awake going over policy, campaign tactics, or whatever other crisis that showed up.

There were times where it felt like that’s all we ever ate.

And now it’s become a sort of tradition for us to enjoy a bologna sandwich whenever we need to talk shop.

“Mr President, umm...hello, sir. Is there anything I can do for you?” one of the surprised galley attendants asks.

“Just point me toward the bread and sandwich meats, and we’re good.”

“They’re just over there, sir.”

“Perfect, thanks.”

“Mind giving us a bit of privacy?” Lawrence asks the cook.

The man nods, and the few remaining staff leave the kitchen area so that Lawrence and I can talk privately.

“So, down to business?” I ask, grabbing the loaf of bread.

“Yes. When we get back to Washington, we’re going to set up a small conference so that you can talk about how successful the trip was.”

“I’m guessing the press is just chomping at the bit to get my opinion on how the meetings at The Hague went.”

I start laying out the slices of bread as I hear Lawrence ruffle around in the fridge.

“That’s putting it lightly. But the Normandy trip is another big one. European magazines and newspapers were quite impressed with you during the trip. Ah!” He’s found the bologna. “And I’m thinking we can spin it to give some extra oomph to our foreign relations and image.”

From the corner of my eye, I can see Lawrence retreat from the fridge with the lettuce, tomato, and mayo in hand like some treasure hunter who found the Holy Grail.

“Well, given how my predecessor’s administration tanked our global image, any boost we can get is a good thing. We need to step up our global image and show the world we aren’t the bullies they all think we are.”

“Not an easy task.”

“No, but you know me, Lawrence. I always love a good challenge.”

“Which is why you ran as an independent.”

“And I won, didn’t I?”

“That you did,” he says as he looks at me with a crooked grin.

The two of us turn our attention to our double decker bologna sandwiches. The first layer is mayo, lettuce, and meat. The second layer is tomato, meat, and mustard—a sandwich worthy of a president.

“After that, we need to deal with that immigration bill. Both sides of the House are still going back and forth on it.”

A heavy sigh slips through my lips.

I may be president, but Democrats and Republicans still run the Senate. While I have the advantage of belonging to neither party, it’s also a disadvantage when dealing with each party as they always accuse me as leaning one way or the other.

It’s truly frustrating and maddening at times.

“Drink?” I ask as I set my sandwich down.

“Please.”

I go to the fridge and grab bottles of water.

I toss one across the room to Lawrence, who catches it with ease.

“I’m dating Beatrice now,” I blurt out like a kid who got caught sneaking in their room after curfew.

My sudden declaration almost has Lawrence choking on his sandwich.

He cracks open his bottle and quickly takes a drink to wash down his half-chewed sandwich.

“You’re what now?”

“Well, after we got back to the hotel, things got physical between us, and we decided to take things slow over breakfast.”

“Do I need to tell you how bad of an idea that is?”

Lawrence gives me his patented dad look. It’s one I used to get plenty of times early on in my political career when I made mistakes.

But this time around, I don’t believe I’m making a mistake at all.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s happening,” I state more firmly than I intended.

“Look, Henry. You’re like family to me. And nothing in the universe would make me happier than to see you find Mrs Right. But this has political scandal shit show written all over it.”

“I—we—know. We discussed it over breakfast. Look, Bea and I get what this could mean for both our careers, but I’ve never felt this way before. She looks at me the same way Mom looked at Dad—the way Julie looks at you. And when I look at her, I see the man I want to be. And you can’t tell me you wouldn’t risk your career for Julie when push comes to shove.”

“I would, but I’m also not the president of the United States.”

The silence between us lingers as Lawrence looks at me with a furrowed brow.

I understand and appreciate his concerns.

Lawrence has done more for my political career than anyone else on the planet. I couldn’t ask for a better mentor to have in my corner.

But sometimes, he’s just too protective.

“Alright. Well, if this is how it’s going to be, then we need to figure some things out.”

I feel as though the smile pulling at my lips is about to engulf my face.

“Once the press gets wind of this, and we both know they will, we’ll have to protect her from the paparazzi and everyone else,” he says before taking another drink from his water.

“Agreed. So, what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we figure out which room of the White House we’re going to put her in. And we’re going to have to assign a security detail. She isn’t likely going to enjoy that last bit.”

“You’re probably right, but she’s smart. She knows what she’s getting into.”

“Let’s hope,” he says with a heavy sigh. “You’re a hundred percent on this?”

“I am,” I reaffirm.

“Alright then. That’s good enough for me.”

Lawrence crosses the room and embraces me in a hug that reminds me of the ones that I used to get from my father when he was happy or proud of me.

If there’s any sign that could have been handed down by the divine, this is it.