Page 346 of Incisive

A quotefromTheGodfathermovies comes to mind. Where the aging gangster says something along the lines of he thought he was free but they keep dragging him back into things.

That’s what this feels like, in a way, as we’re transported over to Blair House where we’ll decompress inourroom—ourroom, notrooms, plural—before we have dinner and eventually attend the first ball of the evening.

Shae’s here, too, with Kev and Chris. They were also at the swearing in, sitting next to us, all three together. They’re attending the first ball, too.

In the past, the outgoing POTUS usually left DC after the swearing in but I wanted Shae at my first ball, at least, and I guess Ciro wants to continue the tradition.

It helps that we’re all friends.

Sure, I’m flattered and honored that Ciro wants us there but I’d rather be enjoying my first night of total freedom.

Except how can I say no?

Ciro has supported and defended us. When he easily could have distanced himself after everything hit the fan, he instead embraced and doubled-down on defending us.

Love. Loyalty. Doesn’t matter that it greatly benefitted him and his family by the news breaking when and how it did. I won’t disrespect him by not attending the ball.

After Ciro and Ily have their first dance, Ciro waves me, Leo, and Jordan, and Shae, Chris, and Kev out onto the floor.

This is the dance I wish I could have had twice before. Technically four times before, if I’m counting Shae’s two inaugurations when I was VP. I would have loved to dance openly with my two men back then.

No more fear. As we sway together with our arms wrapped around each other it feels like a weight’s vanished.

I cannot remember a time since my teens when I didn’t carry that weight.

Now…it’s gone.

And then I kiss Leo, and Jordan, and they kiss each other, all to cheers and applause. Shae, Chris, and Kev follow suit, to even more applause.

Unfortunately, I start to think about Stella, the stink-eye I got from her during my first inauguration ball and how there’s a bittersweet rift in my family’s tapestry, one that will never be mended. Nevercanbe mended.

My freedom beckons and if I don’t want to sink into dark thoughts about Stella I need to get the hell out of here. I last another twenty minutes before I tell Leo I want to leave and I bid my good-byes to Ciro, Ily, and Ansen.

This is their night, not mine.

I don’twantit to be my night. Ineverwant a large event to be “my” night again. Not for politics. Not for anything except maybe a birthday party or book launch or something.

Woodleyout.

As the Secret Service whisks us away from the venue, I realize…

I have no clue where we’re going.

As I lay my head back against the seat, I also realize I do not care, as long as my men are with me, their love and loyalty all I need to survive now.

CHAPTEREIGHTY-NINE

I stand balancedon my right foot in front of the French doors that look out onto the wooded valley below. The doors are only two steps from the side of the bed and I’ve got my hands braced on the doorframe. I didn’t feel like putting Duck on or grabbing my walker just to go pee. I was able to hop and brace myself on furniture to make my way to the bathroom and back again.

For now I want to enjoy this view, even if it looks somewhat blurry without my glasses, which I think ended up on the kitchen counter last night. Likehellam I going to dig my contacts out of my bag.

If I have my way I might never wear them again. I don’t need to worry about my appearance and polling numbers any longer. Not for myself, at least.

It’s still early, barely daylight outside. The woods and valley are shrouded in a soft grey mist I know dampens sounds. On another morning I might want to sit out there and enjoy this peaceful time of day with a steaming cup of coffee in hand. Or even take a leisurely hike with my guys.

Not this morning. I don’t want to leave this bedroom yet.

Hell, I don’t want to leave this bedroomever.