Page 109 of The Rebel King

“I know without a shadow of doubt that you’re right for this country,” she says, tears welling in her eyes. “But I’m not sure being first lady is right for me, Maxim.”

Her hands drop from my face, and she swipes at a tear.

“I’ve worked my whole life for what I have, for who Iam. I love campaigning. I love the fulfillment of putting leaders in power who will look out for the most vulnerable.”

“You can still have impact as first lady. Of course you can.”

“I didn’t work this hard and this long,” she says, some of her usual fierceness rearing, “to be the national plus one.”

“The national plus one? Would you stop thinking about people’s perceptions and expectations and just think about us? How does this play out? If I win you’re thefirst girlfriendfor four years?”

“Eight. You won’t be a one-term president. Not on my watch.”

“And kids? According to your plan, I’d be forty-eight when I leftoffice. You’d be forty-one. You want to wait that long to start our family? Or maybe we won’t wait for marriage and I’ll be the first baby daddy in the Oval. I’m unconventional but notthatunconventional.”

I take her chin between my fingers gently until she meets my eyes. “I want a family with you. I want a life with you. Are you saying if I become president I won’t have that?”

“I’m saying I’m not sure what’s best for me, but I know you’re best for America.”

I drop her chin. “That’s not an answer.”

“Do I give up everythingI’msupposed to do so that you can do whatyou’resupposed to do? I know that sounds bad, but I’m trying to work through the implications of actual marriage if you win. Giving up my career, my causes to be first lady… It’s just not what I signed up for, and I—”

“You signed up forme,” I say, wanting to shout but keeping my voice low. “And I signed up for you, whatever that means, wherever that takes us.”

“Easy to say when ‘whatever’ is you becoming the leader of the free world and me smiling and looking pretty for a ‘say no to drugs’ campaign or advocating for literacy. It’s not what I want todo. That’s not who I want to be. Don’t ask me to know everythingtoday. We had to move quickly. I just need some time to wrestle through this, Maxim.”

I’ll be damned if I’m losing my shit on a bus full of campaign staffers, and that’s about to happen. I stand, but she catches my wrist.

“Let go, Nix. I have some things I need towrestle throughbefore I give this speech and convince Detroit to vote Cade.”

I pull away and stride to the front, a small fire kindling under the collar of the golf shirt I’m wearing. I hate golf shirts. One of the pollsters suggested I try a golf shirt because some study showed they supposedly put people at ease. How does a damn golf shirt reassure someone they’ll make rent? Or that their retirement plan will actually be worth something if this planet stays solvent longenough to use it? The world is on fire, and Lennix just turned down my proposal, and we’re talking about golf shirts?

I rip the shirt over my head, and Kimba looks up from her phone, eyes pinging from my bare chest to my scowling face.

“I hate golf shirts,” I snap. “Don’t any of you ever ask me to wear afuckinggolf shirt again. I don’t care if millennials love them. I don’t care if they make single mothers feel attractive or if the color blue makes men between the ages of thirty and forty-five trust me.” I hold up the golf shirt for everyone to see, brandishing it like a weapon and then flinging it on the table. “No more golf shirts.Ever. Is that understood?”

“Seriously?” Lennix asks from behind me, walking up the aisle. “Don’t be a jerk.”

I swing around to face her. “Are you trying to get fired, Ms. Hunter? Last I checked, you work for me.”

“Last I checked,Mr. Cade, you can go fuck yourself.”

Absolute silence floods the bus, and we all seem frozen in some farce. Lennix gasps, covers her mouth, eyes widening, bouncing between me and the shocked staffers. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. We’re all under a lot of pressure, and I…”

She falters, blinking at tears, running a shaking hand through her hair. My self-possessed girl is coming undone. It’s not just the two of us being uncharacteristically undisciplined. I don’t even think it’s the fight we just had. It’sthe wrestle—the conflict of being in love with someone on a path you aren’t sure you can take. As much as I want to resist her, to remain furious with her, I have no defense against this rare vulnerability. If all these people weren’t gawking at us, I’d take her to the back of this bus and hold her, kiss her, assure her that we’ll do whatever she wants to do. I’lldowhatever she needs to do as long as we can be together.

And then I’d fuck her until she remembers it’s just us. No matter what, always only us.

I glance at the shocked faces and the wide eyes of the team.“I’m sorry, too,” I tell them. “We’re all under a lot of pressure, yeah, but I never want to take it out on you guys. You’re amazing, and you deserve better than that.”

I’m saved from more explanations or awkward apologies when the bus comes to a halt with a small lurch and sigh of brakes. I have to get off this thing and go regroup before I destroy everything I worked for, including my relationship with Lennix. I stride to the front of the bus. Quick footsteps follow me when the bus doors open.

“Doc,” Lennix calls. “You forgot your shirt.”

But I’m already outside, and as soon as my foot hits the pavement, a swarm of reporters gathers around me like bees, buzzing in front of our hotel, all stretching phones and mics toward me. Lennix steps off the bus, clutching my shirt, her eyes darting across the eager, curious faces.

“What the hell?” she mutters.

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