President Daddy (Dark Daddies 4)

I nod. “Yep.”

“Huh. I haven’t visited that since… I don’t know. A school trip.”

“I try to go once a year,” I say softly.

We walk up to the memorial. It’s a long wall, sunk down into the ground, with the names of all the men that died in Vietnam. We walk together, looking at the wall, the shining black of its face, the recessed names carved into the stone.

It’ll outlast the both of us, I can be sure of that, at least.

I stop in front of one row. I reach out and run my fingers over the familiar name. “My father,” I say softly.

She frowns. “Really?”

“Really,” I say. “He was a career marine, went to Vietnam when he was a little older. About a year after I was born.”

She’s quiet for a second. I stare at my father’s name, wondering what life would’ve been like had I grown up with a second parent.

“My mother did her best,” I say softly. “She worked hard, took more than one job to make ends meet. She instilled in me the need for hard work, sacrifice. All the values I need now.”

“She must’ve been amazing.”

“She was. Died ten years ago, and I still miss her.”

Maggie leans up against my arm, holding my hand tightly. “Thanks for showing me this.”

“Of course,” I say softly. “I want you to know about me.”

“I want to know about you, too.”

“And I want you to share things about yourself.”

She laughs a little. “Not much to say, really.”

“Try me.”

“My mom was a paralegal, my dad worked in insurance. Grew up middle class. I was a huge dork in school, got good grades.”

“And ended up at Harvard?”

She nods. “Right. Half scholarship, half loans. Still paying those off.” She laughs a little bit.

“Typical Millennial.”

“Except I started that blog, and it…”

“Took off.”

“Yeah. Unexpectedly.”

“And here you are.”

“Right. Holding hands with the President.”

I turn toward her, pull her against me. “Calling him Daddy.”

She grins. “That too.”

I kiss her quickly. I love the feeling of her lips against mine. It gives me a thrill every time.

But I catch an agent lurking nearby. I squeeze her hand. “Come on. Let’s walk a little longer.”

We head down along the path, moving slowly together. I ask her about how her work’s going, and she tells me about her friend Iris, and how high-strung her boss is.

We laugh about other staff, about news coverage, about the world. I’m smiling the whole time, and for twenty minutes, I feel normal.

I feel like a regular person, like any other man.

But I know that’s not for me. It’s always temporary.

Ramirez comes up quickly behind us, hand on an earpiece. “Sir,” he says. “Situation back at the White House.”

I sigh. “We have to go?”

He nods. “Now.” A car comes down the road suddenly and pulls over nearby. Ramirez nods at it. “Sir.”

I look at Maggie. “Well, that’s about right,” I say.

She grins at me. “Go be important. I’ll make my way back.”

“Sorry,” I say. “I’ll see you soon.”

She nods. I squeeze her hand and walk away. The agents rush me into the car and we speed off, back toward the White House, and whatever crisis is waiting for me there.

I close my eyes in the back seat. I pretend that I’m still out walking with Maggie. That I’m a regular man having a regular time with his girl.

It feels good. I can almost taste her lips. I can almost feel her body.

I crave it so badly. But for now, the world is waiting.11MaggieThe next time I see the President, he looks absolutely exhausted.

Well, that’s not really fair. I mean, he always looks tired.

And even exhausted, the man is beautiful.

Gorgeous, really. Square jaw, precise, startling eyes. There’s something about him that keeps people absolutely engaged.

I know I can’t look away, not for a second.

We don’t speak for a couple weeks. I dive into my projects, working on things Roger assigns me along with the healthcare issues, waiting for my next opportunity to see Adam.

I’m impatient. I’m frustrated.

But I know what’s going on. Everyone does.

More problems in Pakistan. There was some retaliation on the local American embassy for the raids that rescued the French commandos. Nobody got hurt, thankfully, but it’s all over the news.

Everyone’s talking about it. People mention Benghazi in the same sentence, although they’re not even remotely the same.

I can tell it’s wearing on him. Even in his interviews and speeches, Adam looks more and more tired. He’s dealing with these issues and taking personal flak for things he can’t control.

The thing is, the situation isn’t as bad as people pretend it is. Nobody is dead, nobody is even hurt. There was an attack, but it was stopped by American troops alongside local police.

The aftermath is what’s really driving him nuts.

Day after day of hunting down the people responsible. And the press is ruthless, merciless.