Page 1 of Campaign Season (By Design #18)
Jameson
There are many things I wish people knew about my wife. From a distance, it’s easy to see someone in her position as untouchable. Too often, people either put Candace on a pedestal or try to tear her down. They forget she’s just a woman—someone’s daughter, someone’s mother, a friend, and a wife.
She carries a heavier burden than most can imagine: not only the responsibility of leading the world’s most powerful country but also the hopes, dreams, and fears that come with it.
People often lose sight of the woman behind the president, but she never loses sight of them.
She understands that this country is made up of real people—vulnerable, imperfect, and irreplaceable.
I’ve never known anyone like her. I wish more people understood how deeply she cares about them, even when they are the ones trying to crucify her.
Candace warned me early on in our relationship about the vitriol directed at her.
I wish I could claim that I’ve grown used to it.
I’ve learned how to suppress my frustration and anger.
I confess it’s a challenge at times. No one enjoys criticism.
But watching the person you love more than anyone vilified—even dehumanized—is painful and infuriating.
I often need to close my eyes and remember what Candace told me all those years ago.
Schoharie, New York
10 Years Earlier
Candace watched as Jameson stared at the television, her expression unreadable.
“Jameson?”
A deep breath. Then another. Finally, Jameson turned.
“Jameson,” Candace said gently, “it’s just part of the equation.”
“Name-calling?” Jameson shook her head.
Candace sighed, picked up the remote, and shut off the TV. “No more Sunday news programs for you,” she teased, trying to lighten the mood.
“How can you be so calm?”
“I’ve been called worse by better.”
“I’d like to?—”
Candace’s laugh cut her off.
“You’re laughing?” Jameson asked in disbelief.
“Jameson.”
“Stop saying my name like I’m in time-out.”
Candace sighed again.
“You can’t expect this not to piss me off.”
“I don’t want it to upset you,” Candace replied softly.
“Someone attacking you upsets me. How would you feel if they said those things about me?”
“I’d be furious.”
Jameson threw her hands up.
“I love you,” Candace said, her voice low. “And I love that you want to defend me. I do.”
“But?”
“But people like Congressman Marion aren’t worth the effort.”
“Maybe not. You don’t deserve that from anyone.”
“I’ve dealt with people like Ron Marion my entire career,” Candace said. “Eventually?—”
“I’ll get used to it?”
“No. It never becomes normal. It shouldn’t. The truth is, it still stings—but only for a second now. You learn to keep it in perspective. The best revenge isn’t winning; it’s refusing to take the bait. That drives them mad.”
“And that stops them?” Jameson asked, skeptical.
“No. Sometimes it makes them worse. But eventually, they reveal themselves for what they are—small, insecure men shouting to be heard. It takes time, but it always happens.”
Candace drew a long breath. She didn’t often speak openly about her influence in the Senate, but if she hoped to share her future with Jameson, she had to put all her cards on the table.
“I make them nervous,” Candace said. “And the power I hold infuriates them.”
Jameson studied her. “Because you’re a woman.”
“And a lesbian,” Candace added. “How dare I exert pressure in their world? To them, I don’t belong here—especially not in this seat.”
“That’s bullshit.”
Candace chuckled. “It is.”
“I just don’t understand why they make you a target.”
“Because they want to remove my influence.”
Jameson’s gaze sharpened. “Candace… you were on John Merrow’s short list for vice president, weren’t you?”
Candace sighed and nodded. “I was.”
“Just how short was that list?”
Candace licked her lips and shook her head.
“He offered, didn’t he?”
“Against the wishes of his campaign managers—yes.”
“Why didn’t you accept?”
“It wasn’t the right time. You just saw the rhetoric aimed at me.
That wouldn’t have helped John. He needed someone older—and male—to win.
We both knew it, even if he didn’t want to believe it.
We were close, Jameson. Closer than most people realize.
He knew what my answer would be. It was easy to ask, knowing I’d refuse. ”
“Then why ask?”
“Because it was sincere. He wanted me to know how he saw me—as a leader.”
Jameson tilted her head. “What if you’d said yes?”
Candace laughed. “He would’ve fought to make us a winning ticket. But I couldn’t. Jonah was still in junior high. He’d already endured my divorce, then my coming out. Everyone was adjusting to my relationship with Jess. The scrutiny would’ve doubled if I’d joined John’s campaign. And Jess?—”
“She didn’t want you to?”
“She did. She was enthusiastic, actually. But it would’ve cost her—her law firm, her career. Jess is driven—we have that in common. She loves the spotlight, but she wouldn’t have survived the fallout. I loved her, but she wasn’t the right partner for me.”
Jameson swallowed hard. “I want to be the right partner for you.”
“You are.”
“Even if I want to deck assholes like Ron Marion?”
“Even then.”
“I don’t want you to hold back because of me, Candace. I mean it. You?—”
Candace silenced her with a kiss.
“Candace, I know you?—”
“Stop. Listen.” Candace held Jameson’s gaze. “I don’t know what’s ahead for me politically. But I do know this: whatever comes, you’ll be part of it. Together. That’s how I see us. Always.”
Jameson’s eyes glistened.
“Trust me when I say I love you for wanting to defend me. But what I need most from you is what you already are—my best friend. That’s what I fell in love with first,” Candace said.
“Swear at the television all you want, but don’t let the critics live in your head.
Let me live rent-free in theirs—it drives them crazier.
” She leaned in and kissed Jameson tenderly.
“I never want to disappoint you,” Jameson whispered.
“We’ll frustrate each other. We’ll disagree. But disappoint me? That’s not in your future.”
Jameson nodded. “Mm. I don’t know. I hear you about the idiots who make you their target. I just… I want to protect you.”
“I know. And you do—by being the one I can tell everything to. That’s what protects me most.”
“Mm-hm. Sounds like you’re giving me the easier assignment,” Jameson said.
“No. Loving me isn’t easy.”
Jameson smiled. “Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done, Candace.”
Candace’s throat tightened. “And my life?”
“I know who you are,” Jameson replied. “I’ve never liked politics.”
Candace’s eyelids fluttered closed.
“Not because I don’t see the value,” Jameson continued.
“Because it brings out the worst in people at times. People make politics a weapon—a way to judge others, even the people closest to them. I also know you see it differently—you want to be part of making our politics better. I see it every day. And before you say something, let me finish.”
Candace nodded.
“It would take more than a jackass politician, cable host, or even an Act of Congress to get me to run away, Candace. The only way that will ever happen is if you give me walking papers.”
Candace’s lips curved into a slow smile, her eyes softening as she reached for Jameson’s hand. “Then I guess you’re stuck with me.”
Jameson squeezed back. “Gladly.”
Present Day
Sometimes it feels as if it all happened only yesterday—the first raw glimpse I had into Candace’s world, into the bruises and burdens of public life. I didn’t like politics then, and I still don’t, but I have never once doubted the woman who wades into it with both fire and grace.
Candace is right. Loving her may be easy, but loving the life she leads can be hard.
Even back then, I sensed she was destined for the White House.
Her becoming president ensured that our lives would never be “normal” again, not even after her time in office ends.
One day, the glare of the spotlight will dim.
One day, the brightness—often unforgiving—will soften. We both know that.
Lately, though, I’ve sensed a shift in her.
It’s a conflict she doesn’t name, but I can feel it all the same—like she’s looking ahead to that quieter day more often than she used to.
As much as I look forward to it, too, my role now is to remind her why she’s the right person to lead this country.
Why we need her to believe that, myself included.
She tells me I have the hardest job, that the pressure on our family is unfair. But not one of our children would agree. They are proof of what anchors us—what makes this path we’ve chosen more than just politics. I’ll keep reminding her of that truth every day until she believes it again.
Because Candace Reid is not just my wife; she is the president of the United States. And I won't let her forget that she is the best person for this moment—for the future—and that we’re in it together, always.