“Understand what?”
“Us.”
“I think we’ll be made into a movie of the week, baby. People love a love story.”
“I hope you’re right,” she says, yawning.
“Sleep baby. You’ll see. Everything will be fine.”
It fucking has to be. I’ll set the world on fire to make sure she has what she wants.
five
Larissa
six weeks later
Oh, hell. I guess I didn’t learn my lesson the first time, I think staring down at the pregnancy test Lane brought me, discreetly of course. I am pretty sure she ordered it off of Amazon so she wouldn’t be recognized at the Walgreens. Thank God for Prime.
We are hot on the campaign trail, about to do a town hall meeting at Chase’s school in LA. Every night, Mal is in my bed and he takes me to heights I never imagined were possible.
It happened after one time last time, it’s no wonder it happened again. No wonder at all. While I am extremely happy, I don’t the campaign trail is the best place to be pregnant. I set the test on the counter and finish getting ready.
Everyone involved in the campaign knows what’s going on between Malcolm and me. I am surprised the press hasn’t found out about it yet. Nor have they asked about the huge engagement ring on my finger. He asked me to marry him the morning after we had sex in my townhouse. I said yes. It’s literally the only thing I’ve ever thought about other than becoming president. I told him I wanted to wait until after the election. I’m too stressed to add another thing to my plate, but I think I am going to have to marry him sooner rather than later now.
I pull on a blazer when he comes into our room and goes into the bathroom after kissing me. Seconds later he comes out with the pregnancy test in his hand. I smile at him and jump into his arms.
“I love you,” I say, kissing his face all over.
“I love you too, but fuck, Larissa. This is amazing.”
“I know. It’s crazy, but the good kind of crazy, right?”
“Hell yeah, baby. Another baby.”
“In the middle of our campaign. I don’t want to drop out, Mal. I have to see this through.”
“No one said anything about dropping out, baby. We’ll see this through to the end. Let’s go. We don’t want to be late,” he says taking me by the hand and leading me out of the hotel room and into the hallway toward the elevators. Our Secret Service agents are right behind us.
As soon as the elevators open in the lobby, we are bombarded by the press. We are used to this. Malcolm usually lets my hand go before the doors open, but not this time. Pictures are snapped left and right.
“Ms. MacLaine, care to address the rumors?” a reporter asks.
“What rumors?” I ask, without thinking.
“The rumors of you and Colonel Reynolds.”
“Can you be more specific?” I ask, wondering what the hell they could possibly have on us that they are asking for a quote before just putting it out there.
“You and Colonel Reynolds have been seen sharing hotel rooms and long dinners.”
“Oh. That,” I say looking down at our joined hands.
“That. There’s also the fact that your son’s birth certificate lists him as the father. What do you say about that?”
“I can’t believe that it took you that long to find it.”
“We’ve been busy,” the reporter says chuckling.
“So have we,” I say.
“What are you doing, my queen,” Mal asks, leaning down whisper in my ear.
“What we should have done six weeks ago,” I reply before addressing the reporter.
I tell our story and just as like Malcolm said, the people loved it. We went up twenty points in the polls. I can’t believe it.
Somehow, we’ve managed to keep my pregnancy a secret, but I don’t think we can for much longer. As Election Day is next week, I’m freaking out that I am beginning to show already, though I am only sixteen weeks pregnant at most. I am at the doctor's for an ultrasound. I’ve had monthly checkups, but no one has said anything to the press about it.
“It’s twins, ma’am,” Doctor Jenkins an OB at Walter Reed says, smiling at me.
“What?” I ask, wondering why none of the other ultrasounds showed that.
“That would explain why you are pooching out already. It looks like you are due around May 18th, but with twins that could change. You’d barely be in the fourth month of your presidency. Can you handle all this?” she asks.
“I can handle anything, Doc.” I say as she wipes the jelly off of my belly.
“You’ll have help right?”
“Of course,” I assure her.
“Can I offer some advice?”
“Yes. Anything,” I say pulling my shirt down.
“Tell the American people. Like today. They will be beyond upset if you wait until you are elected. They will feel duped.”