Page 29

The Rose Garden stretched out before Margot in all its early autumn glory. This time of the morning, the sunlight broke through the tree branches in golden shards, illuminating the rich red and purple hues of the flowers and leaves below. Behind her, the white columns and tall windows of the West Wing shone brilliantly under a clear blue sky. Margot breathed in deeply, relishing the crisp September air. There were worse ways to begin a day than with a stroll through such a gorgeous landscape. She had always envisioned herself in the iconic office overlooking it, but over the last few years, she had found herself rather enjoying these frequent visits while someone else did all the hard work.

In truth, an early retirement was treating her well so far. Of course, Margot was still busy, occupied, and in high demand with every organization and think tank vying for her expertise and advice, but it was all on her terms now. No more late nights agonizing over legislation details, enduring exhausting fundraisers full of brash, boastful old men and obnoxious celebrities, or pandering to donors or constituents over the phone. And most of all, no more hiding. After years of carefully curated masks, roles, and personas, finally being herself--freely and openly--was still such a novel, thrilling experience. Margot savored the luxury.

Partway through her leisurely stroll around the manicured lawn, the familiar shape of a woman in a light gray pantsuit moved into her field of view, crossing the yard and heading straight for her. The ebony hair had streaks of grey in it now from the stress, but Francesca was still radiant, exuding vitality, charisma, and strength. Her stride was confident, her posture impeccable, and her gaze alert and sharp. Even after three years together, Margot felt her heart flutter as their eyes met. This remarkable, awe-inspiring woman, breathtaking woman was hers, and the knowledge never ceased to fill her with delight.

“Good morning, Madame President,” she purred as Francesca approached, lifting her head to receive a gentle kiss on the lips. “How is the most powerful woman in the world doing on this lovely morning?”

Francesca snorted softly with amusement, wrapping one arm around Margot's waist and stroking her side tenderly. “Exhausted,” she sighed, brushing their noses together briefly as she glanced sideways toward the building behind them. “And ready to go taste some cakes. Come on. We've only got two hours, so we'd better get moving.”

Margot laughed and nodded. “Mm, always so busy,” she purred, entwining her fingers with Francesca's as they turned back and headed toward the main entrance. “The lady from Bake Bliss just called to confirm that they're all ready. I think she's a little scared of you, darlin', so you might want to tone down the intimidation factor a bit.”

Another snort of laughter escaped her partner, who looked down at Margot playfully as they walked side by side, arms hooked. “Me?” Francesca replied incredulously. “Intimidating? Not in the slightest. You're the one she needs to be scared of. That poor florist from last week was practically in tears by the time you finished interrogating him.”

“Oh, please,” Margot retorted, rolling her eyes. “Excuse me for wanting my wedding to be perfect. For what we're paying them, they can at least get the color scheme right!”

“You really need to find somewhere else to put all this obsessive perfectionist energy, sweetheart,” Francesca teased as they stepped into the car that was waiting to take them to the cake tasting.

“Oh, I will, as soon as we kick off your re-election campaign. Don't worry,” Margot assured her playfully. “Someone needs to make sure your staff gets organized enough to pull this off. You got lucky last time, Frankie. Your next opponent might not be so easily distracted by how sexy your voice is when you get all excited about fiscal policy.”

Francesca laughed at that, leaning back into the plush leather seat of their car as the driver pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. She draped her arm loosely over Margot's shoulder, absentmindedly playing with the delicate gold necklace she had given Margot as an anniversary gift last October. It glittered in the morning sunlight as it hung loosely around her elegant neck.

“We've got a lot of things to deal with before that,” Francesca reminded her with a sigh. “Are you sure you're ready for us to announce this? It's not too late to postpone it a while longer, you know.”

Margot paused thoughtfully, tilting her head as she glanced out the window. They hadn't yet publicly confirmed anything about their relationship. That was a surefire way to distract from legislative goals and complicate negotiations. Oh, they were seen together often enough and it was no secret that Margot visited the White House almost weekly, but it was all rumor and speculation for the time being. That had worked just fine. After a lifetime spent in the spotlight, it had been a nice change of pace.

However, the time was fast approaching for Francesca to announce her re-election bid. If they were going to do this for another four years, the chances of them being able to keep everything private were slim. Anyway, neither one of them really wanted to keep it a secret. They were getting married in the summer, now that Margot and William had successfully completed their divorce proceedings after countless rounds in court.

Margot finally felt ready to step back into the public eye and face whatever criticism, anger, confusion, and general unpleasantness might befall her because of it. In truth, letting their relationship be public was a much bigger risk for Francesca, who stood to lose the support of many progressives who still considered Margot a symbol of everything they fought against. Over the last few years, she had spoken out against her former allies several times, and now proudly supported numerous policies that Francesca spearheaded. Margot’s image had certainly softened in the eyes of many people. There would always be those who rejected her, of course, but on the whole, it would likely be fine.

Whatever happened, though, they would weather the storm together. That was what Francesca kept saying, and after a lot of hemming and hawing, Margot had decided to believe her. She had spent too long refusing to take risks, or to step outside her comfort zone. Now, she wanted to live freely and authentically, and this was the final hurdle for her. The last great unknown in this new chapter of her life.

“Yes,” Margot said, turning back to her fiancée with a warm smile. “I'm sure. I love you and I want the whole damn world to know it. I won't ever let anyone hold the truth of whom I love over my head again.”

“Good,” Francesca murmured, as she leaned closer and captured Margot’s lips in a tender kiss. “Thank goodness that woman is safely in jail. I still can't believe her slimeball lawyer tried to get her acquitted, even with all the evidence of extortion.”

Margot nodded, rolling her eyes. She rarely thought about Cassandra these days—or Jessica, as her real name turned out to be. A rather unassuming middle-aged housewife from Iowa whom Margot still couldn't recall having ever been involved with. That drunken night in college was still a blank in her memory, which was perhaps just as well. Still, the entire ordeal had been extremely traumatic and disruptive. Margot’s reputation and career were permanently tarnished, but she had managed to move on and find peace somewhere along the way.

So had William. He'd moved to Vermont with Tom and they were happy, from what she'd heard. She and William weren't exactly on friendly terms anymore. Not exactly antagonistic either, but he certainly wasn't getting invited to the wedding. They'd never really had much in common. How strange it was now, to be sharing her life with someone she actually liked, wanted, and respected. Why hadn't she been doing this all along?

“I'm just glad that's all over,” she sighed, settling her head onto Francesca's shoulder with contentment. “When can I start calling myself 'First Lady' officially, by the way? Because I am absolutely dying to.”

A low chuckle rumbled deep within Francesca's chest. “After the wedding, I think,” she replied. “I do think marriage is a requirement for that title. Half my staff already refer to you that way, though, and as far as I'm concerned, you already are. First and only. I love you, Margot.”

Margot let out a brilliant laugh and wrapped her arms around Francesca's neck, pulling her in for a deep, passionate kiss. Their tongues slid over one another, teasing and exploring, while their lips pressed together in a hungry, insatiable embrace. Every time they kissed, it felt like the first time. A wave of pure, blissful relief washed over Margot, as well as the sheer elation of being free to kiss the woman she loved without holding anything back. Now that she had discovered the freedom that came with this kind of happiness and contentment, Margot wouldn't be satisfied with anything less ever again.

Eventually, the car stopped, and as Margot pulled away reluctantly, the door opened to reveal a secret service agent waiting patiently to escort them inside the bakery. Margot and Francesca exchanged glances, both a little flushed and disheveled. They grinned widely at each other, their eyes shining with love and amusement at one another.

Smirking, Margot rose to her feet and smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress, then stepped out of the vehicle with confidence and grace, flipping her hair back over her shoulder; it was much blonder these days. Francesca followed behind her closely, gazing at her fondly. Instinctively, Margot reached for her hand. It didn't matter who saw them now. In a week, the whole world would know, and the very last secret Margot had kept would be out in the open.

From now on, there would only be freedom. Freedom, hope, and love.