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“Hang on.” His grasp slipped from hers, and his knuckles hit the pew with a thud before he lifted his hand and ran his fingers

through his hair. “You were going to let me go with you. That’s...” He cleared his throat and swallowed down the lump.

“That means a lot.”

“It should,” she responded, sniffing and chuckling at the same time. “My dad’s the only person in town who knows about any

of this. The addiction stuff, I mean. He can’t know about Joel, of course, or any of the details about why I left the CIA.

But yeah, he’s the only one who knows I’m an alcoholic. Not because I’m keeping it from other people, really. Just... I

don’t know. It hasn’t been the easiest to let anyone in. About anything. You know?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“So... just you and my dad. Oh, and your campaign manager, of course.” She laughed softly. Bitterly. “Sebastian should

hire him to write an Adelaide Springs gossip column for the Gazette . He’s getting all the scoop. Between plane rides and CIA personnel files—”

“Hold on. That’s what you meant?” Wes leapt from his seat, whacking his hip bone on the too-close pew in front of them on the way up and, thankfully, managing to keep an expletive from escaping.

He wasn’t much of an expletive sort of guy anyway.

The governor had taught him to always act as if potential voters might overhear anything he said.

But he especially wanted to avoid the bad language in the chapel, in front of “his guy up there.”

“Ouch. Are you okay?”

He rubbed the sore spot on his hip and carried on. “Addie, are you telling me Phil dug up dirt on you and this is why he says

you can’t be First Lady?”

“Yes.”

“Well...” Wes scoffed and began pacing. He wanted to pace, anyway. There was nowhere to go, and he couldn’t even walk the length of the pew without facing front and shuffling

his feet like he was doing a lame version of the Electric Slide. “I don’t care about that. We all have a past. Betty Ford

was an alcoholic, and that ended up being a really good thing!” He reached the outside aisle and realized what he’d said.

“I’m not saying it was a good thing that she was an alcoholic, mind you. Just that as First Lady she was able to bring awareness

to it.”

“To my knowledge, Betty Ford never got anyone stabbed.”

“We don’t know that.” He hurried into the pew in front of her and sat on his knees, facing her. “The point is—”

“I don’t want it, Wes.”

“What?”

“I don’t want it. I don’t want to go back to Washington. I don’t want to be First Lady.”

“But you’d be so great at it.”

“I know.” She winked and offered him a downcast smile. “But... I just don’t think it would be so great for me.”

He thought of the long hours on the campaign trail. The receptions and the champagne toasts. The public scrutiny that, it

wasn’t difficult to imagine, would be so much more severe for her than it would be for other candidates’ spouses.

He slipped off his knees onto his bottom. “Yeah. Okay.”

“But you know what?” She placed her hands on his on the back of the pew and leaned forward.

“As of Friday, I was as likely to vote for Elkrique Iglesias as I was you on Election Day. But you’ve won me over, Senator Hobbes.

I mean, I still don’t know where you stand on any positions, and I’ll need to thoroughly examine your tax plan before making any promises, but I’m pretty sure I’m not going to vomit when I see your name on my ballot. That’s progress, right?”

Wes chuckled and then tilted his head and lifted her hand to his lips. “I’m not going to run, Addie. How could I just leave

now, like none of this ever happened? If you aren’t with me—”

“I thought you hadn’t made plans.”

“I hadn’t. I hadn’t decided anything, and I certainly wasn’t deciding things for you , without you. Obviously.”

Addie smirked and rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Hobbes.”

“But I do know that from the moment I thought of you with me in the White House, I haven’t once thought of being there alone.”

She leaned forward to rest her head on his arm. “That’s really sweet.”

“It’s true.”

She nodded against him. “I know.” He brought his other hand up and combed his fingers through her hair. “Which is why we need

to end this now.”

Wes’s hand froze on her neck. “End what?”

Addie sighed and raised her eyes, followed by her head. “We both got really serious really fast.”

The panic tightened his shoulders first, then began making its way up his neck. “That’s not true.”

“It’s been three days, Wes.”

“It’s been forty years, Addie.” He shifted back onto his knees. “And okay, we were kids. I can’t say for sure that I loved

you every one of those forty years, but I know for a fact that in my entire life, I’ve never loved anyone else. This wasn’t

fast. Not for me.”

“I get that. And yeah, on some level, I’m with you. You know I am. But I was married for nearly ten years—”

“And I was married for fourteen. What’s your point?”

Addie tilted her head and smirked. “Really? You’re comparing your marriage to mine?” Wes cleared his throat and motioned for her to continue. “So yeah, I’ve never had a serious relationship apart from you and Joel—”

He opened his mouth to speak again and she scowled at him, causing him to think better of saying whatever #samesies thing

he had been about to say. His mouth closed again with a pop.

“—and I just think we probably need to slow this down.”

He gulped. “You want to see other people?”

She cackled. “No! That’s the point. Three days ago, I didn’t even want to see you !”

“Um, in fairness, that was probably still true two days ago.”

“You’re not wrong.” She smiled up at him and shrugged. “So maybe we should, oh, I don’t know. Exchange emails? Text each other

every day? Call each other on even days and talk about life? I can tell you how I sat at Valet Forge all day without getting

a single call, and you can tell me all about winning the Michigan primary.”

“So just normal couple stuff?”

She nodded. “Normal couple stuff.”

“But... no commitments? Is that what you’re saying? Just... we see where it goes?” He wanted to give her the time she

needed. That was what he knew for certain, even if the idea of just casually dating Addie Atwater felt to him a little like

wanting to keep his options open and not fully committing to the whole breathing-oxygen thing.

“Yeah. Exactly.”

Three days ago, he hadn’t expected to ever see her again. It never even would have occurred to him to hope they could be friends

again, or to believe that he hadn’t kissed her for the last time.

“Okay,” he responded, disappointed in himself when his voice came out sounding every bit as sad as he felt.

“I’m not too worried about it, you know. Some time will be good for us.”

Wes swallowed the lump in his throat and managed a half smile. “I’m sure you’re right.”

“I am. Besides...” She stood and held on to his hand, then sidestepped into the aisle and scooted next to him in his pew. “If you didn’t stop loving me over the last twenty-two years, I’m not too worried about you getting over me in the next four.”

“Someone’s feeling very sure of themselves.” He wrapped his arms around her and slid her closer. “And you said four years.

You meant eight.”

“Wow.” Addie snuggled into the crook of his arm. “Now who’s feeling sure of themselves, Mr. President?”