“I know, I should but what if I don’t win? A single mother with a grown son is one thing, but still unwed and pregnant? I’m not sure the best PR person in the world could swing that.”
“I assume the colonel is the father?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I’d go with that. I know that I’m not a part of your campaign, and it’s probably inappropriate because I’m your doctor but…”
“No, of course not. I totally understand. You are a woman and a voter. I value all opinions, but you are absolutely right. The American people deserve to know before they go to the polls.” I reply. After thanking her, I walk out, Lane already on the phone. “Set up a press conference for as soon as possible.”
“Why?”
“Malcolm and I are going to announce my pregnancy and our engagement.”
“What? Why?” she asks, clearly panicking.
“It's the right thing to do,” I say hanging up. My next call is to Mal. He had some pressing matter to attend to with his final bit of retirement papers, so I went to the doctors alone. He’s been to all the other appointments.
The press conference goes better than expected and the news cycle in the morning is really positive. My Twitter feed is blowing up mostly positive tweets from people. I ignore the haters. You can’t make everyone happy, no matter what you do.
With our game faces on, we finish up the campaign trail back in Baltimore, where everything started for me.
six
Malcolm
election night
november 3rd 2020
From our room at the Baltimore Hilton, where downstairs in the ballroom, hundreds of people are waiting for either a victory or concession speech from Larissa, she and I lie in bed. I had to fly out to California last night in order to vote in my district. I cast my ballot for Larissa and me and immediately flew back here to vote with her at noon at the voting precinct she’s voted at since she was eighteen. Press was everywhere and she looked amazing in her dress. She’s been too nervous to watch the results coming in. Instead, I’ve been making love to her all night.
“My queen, please calm down, it’s not good for the baby.”
“I can’t calm down, Mal. I can’t.”
“Come here, baby,” I say. I can’t stand to see her like this. She walks over to the edge of the bed and I pull her down to me. “Ride me, my queen,” I say and she grins at me before climbing on top of me. She sinks down on my cock before slowly riding me. Up and down, she uses her knees to guide her movements. My hands grip her hips tightly, holding her steady as she takes her pleasure from me. We lose track of time and the amount of times we come, but eventually, there is a loud banging on the door.
“Get your asses dressed and get out here, now. The polls are closed. The results are expected any minute now,” Lane says, excitedly.
“Oh. My. God. This is it. Everything I’ve ever worked for and this is it.”
“No matter what happens, baby, everything will be alright,” I assure her.
“I know. Because I have you,” she says leaning down to kiss me before hopping off of me. “Oh, I don’t know if I can walk straight.” She giggles as she walks into the bathroom. I climb out of bed and put on a gray suit with a navy blue tie. When she comes out of the bathroom, she’s wearing a sleeveless navy blue dress, with an American flag pinned to her. I have one on my lapel too.
“Damn, you look beautiful,” I tell her.
“You look handsome yourself,” she says, straightening my tie. “Let’s do this.”
Out in the living area of the suite, our inner circle is gathered around the flat-screen TV. The news is on, as it has been all day.
“Washington State is calling it for Larissa MacLaine, as is California, meaning? Yes. This just in, Larissa MacLaine has won the popular vote to be the next President of the United States.” The room erupts into cheers. She staggers a bit, but I grab a hold of her. I’ll always have her.
“Did I hear that correctly?” she asks.
“Yes you did, Madame President-elect,” I whisper back to her. Then she starts screaming. I watch as she gets hugs from Chase, her brother, her sister, Chase’s fiancée, and finally her parents. Then her campaign heads and top volunteers.
“Shh… watch this,” someone says, turning the TV up.
“I concede victory to Ms. MacLaine. The numbers just aren’t there. I wish her nothing but luck in this endeavor. She’s gonna need it. I’ll be going home to the great state of Texas where I’ll probably retire, hopefully peacefully,” the current, and outgoing president, Marshall Hemmings says to thunderous applause from some non-descript hotel in DC.
“It’s time,” Lane says, hanging up her cell phone. How she heard it ring in here, I’ll never know.