Page 33 of Anything For This Love

Dad: Be prepared. The press is going nuts.

Me: Thanks for the warning.

Dad: See you inside.

I returnmy phone to my pocket and try to glimpse the entrance from my window. Reporters are lined along each side of the red carpet, snapping pictures and barking questions at party goers. These events are a much bigger production than they need to be. Why do we need a red carpet and paparazzi like we’re movie stars?

When our car finally stops and the door opens, I step out, straightening my jacket before reaching out a hand for Abby. I help her to her feet and watch as her eyes widen. I tug on her hand, but she remains frozen in place as camera flashes reflect in her eyes.

“Abby?” She looks petrified. I have to draw her attention back to me or I’m afraid she’ll climb back inside the car and refuse to come out. “Abby,” I try again, interlacing my fingers with hers and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. Her gaze snaps to mine and she finally blinks. “Are you ready?” I keep my voice even and just loud enough for her to hear. She nods once and takes a tentative step toward the door.

As soon as we begin to walk up the aisle, the questions start.

“Who’s your date?”

“What happened between you and Maggie Greyson?”

“Does your father intend to enter the presidential race?”

“There are rumors that you and Miss Greyson have remained close despite ending your relationship.”

“Do you plan to follow in your father’s footsteps one day?”

“Sources are claiming the Senator and his wife are separated. Can you confirm that?”

They fire off their questions like rounds in a machine gun, each of them ricocheting off my back until the last one penetrates my shield, finding its mark. Abby’s grip on my hand tightens so I pick up my pace. I wasn’t expecting this kind of onslaught. I was prepared for them to ask me about my father running for president. I was prepared for them to ask who Abby was, but the rest comes as a surprise.

When we finally make it inside, Abby and I let out a collective sigh of relief. I turn to her and grip her shoulders, willing her to look at me. “I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t expecting quite that much attention. Some of those questions…”

“It’s okay. I know there’s nothing going on between you and Maggie. What happened between you two is in the past.”

I nod, my shoulders sagging in relief. “What I’m most concerned with at the moment is what they said about my parents.” I glance around to make sure no rogue member of the press is lurking around with a phone to catch a recording of our conversation. I pull her off to the side before continuing. “I have no idea how they would know about that.” I scrub my hand over my face, letting the frustration sink back in. The last thing my family needs is a story breaking about my parents’ marital troubles. If that happens, someone may start to dig, and if they dig deep enough, it will lead them to Abby and Chloe. As furious as I’ve been with my mother, I don’t want the rest of the world to know what she did or what happened between Abby and me because of it.

“I should probably find my father.” I grab her hand and lead her to the ballroom where the upper crust of D.C. society is adorned in silks, satins, and designer tuxedos for a night of glitz and glamour, all in the name of charity. Tickets to this event are exorbitant, but at least they raise enough money to fund several scholarships for local high school students.

We work our way through the room and find my father surrounded by a group of his colleagues. I tap his shoulder to get his attention and he turns to me, a tumbler with two fingers of amber liquid in his hand. The man doesn’t drink often but when he does, you’ll only find scotch or bourbon in his glass.

“Hey, son. It’s about time you made it!” he chortles and gives me a hug. “Abby, it’s so nice to see you again.” He leans in and kisses each of Abby’s cheeks.

“It’s nice to see you, too.” She offers him a sweet smile. She seems to have a true affinity for my father. They are kindred spirits.

“We would have made it a little sooner if we hadn’t been bombarded by the vultures out front looking for their next big story,” I grouse.

“They’re ruthless, I tell you.” His voice is filled with mirth, but his words ring true.

I turn to the side, tugging on his elbow. He takes the hint and leans into me, listening intently. “They asked about you and mom separating,” I inform him quietly, my voice low enough not to be heard by anyone else. He sobers and grabs my arm, leading us away from the group.

“What did they say exactly?”

“Just that sources claimed you were separated. Asked me to confirm it.”

His eyes widen in surprise. “How did they find out?”

“I have no idea. Have you told anyone?”

“No, this is strictly a family matter. I’m sure the staff at our home has noticed her absence, but it’s not unusual for one of us to be away for an extended period of time.” He ponders the possibilities for a moment, shaking his head with frustration. “It’s possible someone is watching her. If they’ve noticed her staying in the city lately without me, that could be sounding the alarm.”

“I hate to bring this up, but if you would just announce your decision on the election, they would probably stop digging and leave you alone.”

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