Chapter 22

Beatrice

I haven’t even put my key in the door, and I can already hear Duke on the other side whimpering in excitement.

When I do open the door, I’m nearly knocked off my feet by my overly excited four-legged companion.

“Hi, Duke! Did you miss me?”

A rough, wet tongue licking my face feverishly is my answer.

“I had to put a picture of you down by his bed so that he’d sleep at night.”

I look past Duke to my dog sitter, Jackie.

I remember meeting the quirky brunette back when I first adopted Duke from the animal shelter. She was one of the girls who looked after him since the day he arrived.

And now, she’s the only other person I trust to leave Duke alone with.

“Awww, you really did miss me,” I coo to Duke’s delight. “Thanks again for watching him, Jackie. I really appreciate it.”

“You kidding? I love spending time with Duke. He’s such a good boy.”

“He really is, isn’t he?”

Duke sits between us, looking on in approval of the compliments we’re giving him.

“Besides, your water pressure here is so much better than my place.”

I grab my suitcase off the floor and head inside the apartment. I’m fairly certain that my apartment is cleaner now than when I left it.

“Did you clean while I was gone?”

“I did. ‘Twas the least I could do.”

“You really didn’t have to do that, Jackie.”

“It’s no biggie. Besides, it kept my jealously of you at bay,” she says with a laugh.

“Jealously?”

“Yes, jealously. Not only were you overseas staying at all those swanky hotels and rubbing shoulders with world leaders, but you were there with President Thatcher. He’s quite possibly the hottest man on the planet. Can you imagine what kind of body he has hiding underneath those suits of his?”

Oh, I don’t have to imagine. I know full well what he’s packing.

“Trust me when I say it’s not all sunshine and rainbows.”

She looks at me in disbelief. I likely wouldn’t believe myself either.

The two of us share some more idle chitchat before Jackie takes her leave.

Once she’s gone, I’m left to my own thoughts, and the only thing on my mind is the night I shared with Henry—and the conversation after it.

I’m dating the President of the United States.

No matter how many times I run that sentence through my mind, it’s still so surreal.

It has all happened so quickly that it only feels like yesterday that I was working on his senate campaign.

I throw myself back against my plush sheets and comfy bed. Duke jumps up beside me and lays his head down by my face.

My head lulls to the side, and I smile as I look into his big chestnut brown eyes.

“This trip was crazy, Duke—real crazy.”

He yawns and tilts his head to the side.

“What do you think? Should I order out?”

Duke gets up and drops down to the floor.

He returns a couple moments later with a menu from Chao’s Restaurant in his mouth.

“Well, Chao’s it is then.”

I call on over to the Chinese restaurant and place my order.

With food squarely taken care of, I turn my attention to my next order of business: unpacking.

I manage to get everything unpacked by the time there’s a knock on the door.

Duke’s tail wags back and forth, hard enough that I feel like there’s a fan against my leg.

“Just a second,” I call out.

I grab some cash from my purse and make my way to the door.

When I open the door, I’m expecting to see Jimmy, the delivery boy from Chao’s, but it’s not Jimmy I see on the other side of the threshold.

It’s Hope Olivier.

She may not be carrying my Chinese food in her hands, but she does have a bottle of red wine in them.

“May I come in?”

I’m more than a bit curious as to why she’s here, and seeing as I also don’t want to be rude, I step aside to let her in.

“So, what brings you to my neck of the woods?” I ask as I shut the door.

“Well, I happened to stop by the liquor store on the way home, and I hate drinking alone,” she says as we reach the kitchen.

Both Duke and I give Hope a disbelieving look.

“Alright, let me just cut to the chase then. Do you care about Henry or not?”

Her tone is abrupt, and it, along with her question, catches me off guard.

“Yes, of course, I care about him. Why?”

Hope sets the bottle of wine down on my counter and gives me a concerned gaze.

I can’t help wondering if she’s asking out of jealousy or if this is all for official channels.

“Thatcher, Henry, isn’t just my boss. He’s also my friend. So I want to make sure that you care about him, truly care about him, and that this isn’t just some school girl crush.”

I’m a bit stunned by how straightforward Hope is, but I can understand where she’s coming from.

“This isn’t just some crush, Hope. I care about Henry. This is very real for me. It’s not some fantasy.”

My tone is every bit as serious as hers.

Then comes a reaction that I wasn’t expecting at all to come from her. Hope’s lips turn upward into a beaming smile, and her eyes seem to dance with delight.

“Good, because your world is about to be turned upside down. And I have to make sure myself that this is real for you and that you want it.”

“Damn right, I want this.”

“Perfect. Now let’s grab a corkscrew and open this baby up,” Hope exclaims as she lifts the bottle from the counter.

I’m still a bit stunned, and I look down at Duke. His dark eyes look from Hope to me, and he lets out a soft bark.

Well, if it’s good enough for Duke, then it’s good enough for me.

My attention turns back to Hope, and I offer a smile to match hers.

“Alright. Wine and strategy it is,” I say with a light chuckle. “I hope you’re hungry. I ordered from Chao’s down the street.”

“I fucking love Chao’s. It’s the best place in Washington for Chinese. Their fried wantons are to die for.”

I stare blankly at Hope for a moment before giving my head a shake.

“Did we just become best friends?”

“That depends. Do you have a corkscrew here?”

“Yeah. Second drawer from the left.”

“Then yes, we just became best friends.”

Laughter breaks whatever tension there is between us, and Duke lets out a louder bark of approval—or at least, I think it’s approval.

There’s another knock on the door. I go to answer—hoping this time, it’ll actually be my food—while Hope goes digging for the corkscrew.

I pay Jimmy and bring the food back into the kitchen, just in time to hear the pop of the cork coming from the bottle.

Hope begins to scour my cupboards for wine glasses while I lay out food containers on my table like a miniature buffet.

“So where do we start on this?”

“Well, first, we need to figure out how we’re going to divulge all this to the press,” she says, pulling a couple of glasses down. “And then I figured, we’d start in on that moo goo gai pan.”

“Alright then. Let’s do this.”