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Wes had always found churches comforting. He’d attended regularly with his mom growing up, or with Doc and Addie, and there

was just something about walking into an environment where, at least in theory, you didn’t have to think about yourself for

a little while. Not that he had ever been able to stop thinking about himself, of course. Did anyone? But at least there had

been an understanding that he wasn’t supposed to be the point. The point was faith, right? The point was how he treated other people. The point, at least

to him at that age, was that the world was a better place when he didn’t try to put himself at the center of it.

He’d been in a lot of churches since then—for funerals and weddings and the occasional campaign rally—but now it was always

about him. Even at someone else’s wedding, it was a big deal if Wes Hobbes showed up. Even at a funeral, everyone was there

to see and be seen. And for the past couple of years, no one in DC outside of a few top names was more highly sought after

for the events where people went to be seen. He hadn’t realized until just then, as he sat alone in the tiny chapel at the

hospital, candles and stained glass casting strange shadows, just how offended he was by that.

Wes startled at a gentle touch on his shoulder. “Sorry,” Addie whispered. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

He rubbed his eyes with his palms as he stood. “No, I’m sorry. I was pretty lost in thought, I guess.” He wrapped her in his

arms and rested his head on hers. “How are you? How’s Doc?”

“He’s sleeping. I think he’ll be fine.”

“Because he says so, or—”

“Well, yes. But I think he was giving it to me straight.” Addie pulled back and looked up at him as he stepped farther into

the pew and made room for her. “How about you? You doing okay?”

“On what scale?” he asked with a weary chuckle as he sat back down. He leaned forward and crossed his arms on the back of

the pew in front of them and then laid his head down on his arms, facing her. “Nah, I’m okay. A little tired, but—”

“I just had a lovely time getting to know Philip Brewster.”

Of course she had. He closed his eyes, hoping that would help him think and figure out what to say to her next, but even in

the quick few seconds of darkness added to the silence, he realized how easy it would be to fall asleep. Especially if she

kept rubbing small, soft circles on his back with her fingertips as she had begun to.

Wes sat up and opened his eyes as wide as he could to try to focus. “I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to tell you about him.

He showed up right before I was supposed to pick you up earlier.”

She smiled and nodded. “No, it’s fine. I figured. I mean, it’s a little odd knowing he was on the plane with Dad and Jo...” A snort escaped, and she rubbed her nose to get rid of the tickle.

“I know,” he replied with a grimace. “I’m actually super annoyed that he showed up, but then I remember that I did lie to

him and tell him I was in California all weekend.”

“Oh. That.” Addie winked.

“Yeah. That.” He turned to face her and propped his knee on the pew between them. “I’m not sure that my annoyance has much

of a leg to stand on.”

“How did he figure out you were here?” She rested her arm on the back of the creaky wooden pew and mirrored his position.

He sighed. “I had him reach out to Heather McCord, deputy something of Senate what’s-it—”

“Senate what’s-it, huh? Is Senate what’s-it an elected position, or is that a presidential appointment? Are there confirmation

hearings?”

“Anyway...” He ignored her smirk. “I had Phil reach out to her to get me the intelligence reports on VE Ladder so that

I could find out how much you’d been briefed.”

She frowned. “Surely the clearance level on that goes higher than your campaign manager.”

“Oh! No, totally. He didn’t have access to anything.” Maybe it was just because he was so tired and his brain felt like it

was moving with all the precision of a janky lava lamp, but he didn’t even know if anything he was saying was going to upset

her. He hoped not, but he also had no desire to spin things in a way that misrepresented the truth. “I guess I said something

about wanting to help out an ex-girlfriend or something. And I guess I forgot that Phil knows enough to know you’re the only

ex I care about.” He shrugged. “I guess from there it wasn’t too hard to start figuring things out. But hey, at least that

meant the plane was available for Doc.”

“Gassed up and ready to go?”

“I think Phil had images in his mind of grabbing me by the ear, throwing me on the plane, and being back in DC by dinnertime.”

“Yeah.” She smiled at him and even rested her hand on his arm and traced patterns on his skin with her finger, but he was

pretty sure she was no longer with him. The smile was sad. The physical contact was absentminded.

“What is it?”

“I need to tell you something.”

He stretched his eyes open wide again and blinked with his eyebrows raised as high as he could get them. “Okay. Shoot.”

She chuckled and tried to cover it at first, but she quickly failed.

“Sorry.” She cupped her hand on his cheek and brushed her thumb against the grain of his quickly growing whiskers, then leaned in and planted a soft kiss on his lips.

“Sorry. I had the benefit of a nap. Why don’t you settle into a pew for a little while and—”

“Addie? What’s going on?”

She kept her hand on his face and smiled sadly. “Your guy up there knows some things you don’t.”

Wes kept his cheek against her hand but darted his eyes to the altar at the front of the chapel. “You mean Jesus?”

She snorted again, but this time it was no cute little thing that she was able to cover daintily. She laughed into the crook

of her elbow and finally managed to squeak out, “No, not Jesus, Wes! I mean, yes, I’m sure Jesus knows some things you don’t

know. But no.” She sniffed and pulled a tissue from her jeans pocket and dabbed at her face. “I meant Philip Brewster.”

He tittered as she continued laughing. “Oh. Okay.” But his amusement fell away while she tried to compose herself. What didn’t

he know? “What is it?” His emotions were suddenly on high alert, and he didn’t feel sleepy at all—even if he couldn’t remember

ever feeling so exhausted. “What does Phil know?”

She dug her top teeth into her bottom lip and reached down for his hand. Then she scrunched up her nose and said, “He knows

that I can’t be your First Lady, Wes.”

He involuntarily scooted back from her on the pew, stunned. “He told you that I...” He cleared his throat. “He had no right.

I mean, it wasn’t like I was making plans. I was just...” Sheesh. What must she think of him? “Addie, I didn’t have a plan.

I wasn’t making plans . It wasn’t like I thought we were just going to fall right into that after three days—”

“I know.” She nodded and smiled sweetly.

“I didn’t think that.” Her eyes wandered off to one of the stained glass windows as a more quizzical expression overtook her face.

“Huh. I’m surprised I didn’t think that.

” She shook her head and turned back to him.

“I’m surprised I didn’t start second-guessing everything you’ve said to me over the past few days.

I’m surprised I didn’t begin to suspect that was your angle the whole time.

Maybe even the whole reason you came back to town. ”

“It wasn’t.”

“I know. That’s what I’m saying. And I guess I’m saying... that’s not nothing. Between us, I mean. Trust and all that.”

“Yeah. Trust and all that.” He nodded. “That’s not nothing.” He squeezed her hand and weighed his next words carefully and

decided it was probably best not to say what he wanted to say. And then he said it anyway. “But just because I haven’t been

making plans doesn’t mean I haven’t spent every single moment of the last twenty-two years wishing I was married to you. I

have. I still do. And considering there are only two things I’ve ever really wanted in my entire life—you and the White House—I’d

be lying if I said—”

“I’m an alcoholic, Wes.” She sighed and shook her head before looking down at their intertwined fingers. “I haven’t had a

drink in 363 days. I know recovering addicts always know the number of days, but I’ve always felt like it’s even easier for

me to remember because it was 364 days ago that I reported to work having not slept for two days and having drunk an entire

bottle of vodka since midnight. I spent the night drinking 100-proof, then I drove to Langley. I’ll never understand how I got there without killing someone, but I did. Then I walked straight to my desk and mistook the operative

on the ground— our operative—for the guy who shot Joel. Never mind that I was monitoring Nigeria and Joel had been killed in Venezuela.”

Addie pulled one of her hands from his and brushed her fingers across his cheek again. “I don’t actually remember much of

it, but the report was pretty clear. Long story short, one of our agents—one of Joel’s best friends, actually—got stabbed

in the shoulder because I was freaking out and didn’t send in reinforcements. He survived. He’s fine. He even had the audacity

to forgive me, I’m pretty sure. I don’t think his wife ever will, not that I blame her, but that’s another story.”

The only sound filling the tiny chapel was the hum of the heater pumping warm air into the space and the creak of the pew as Addie’s knee bounced up and down compulsively. Her leg bounced and her fingers twitched and her teeth dug into her lip, but she never looked away.

“And how are you now?” Wes whispered. “In your, um... in your recovery, I mean. Almost a year. That’s amazing.”

She squeezed his hand and grinned. “Thanks, but I don’t know that it’s amazing.”

“I think it is.”

“Well, I take it seriously. That’s for sure. Beyond that?” She shrugged. “I go to meetings every Sunday—”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I was going to talk to you about all of this on the way to South Fork.”