Just before midnight, Nick came into their suite with a wheelchair and a blanket.
“What’s going on, Mr. President?”
“I’m keeping a promise to my wife that I made two years ago on a rooftop across town.”
“Are we going to K Street?”
“It turns out we have our own rooftop lookout with an even better view than we had at K Street. Are you game?”
She was tired, sore and aching, but she wouldn’t miss an adventure with him. “Always.”
“Your chariot awaits, my love.”
After he got her settled in the chair, he bundled her up in a winter coat and put the blanket over her lap. “Comfortable?”
“Yep.” She ached fiercely, but she wasn’t due for another pain pill yet. However, she kept that hidden from him since he had gone to some trouble to stick to their tradition.
Nick wheeled her to the elevator and up to the third floor, where the Secret Service waited to accompany them onto a roof deck she hadn’t known about before this. When they were settled, the agents stepped back into the shadows, always watching, but out of sight.
“When we set this tradition two years ago, I didn’t expect to be doing it on the roof of the White House or in a wheelchair,” Sam said.
Nick produced a folding chair and sat next to her. “The wheelchair is temporary. You’ll be back to kicking ass and taking names in no time.”
“It’s weird to be unable to do so many things I normally do. It gives me a bit of perspective on what my dad dealt with after his injury.”
“I’m sure it does.” Reaching for her hand, he kissed the back of it. “I skipped the champagne since you’re still taking pain meds.”
“Thanks for arranging this.”
“A tradition needed to be upheld, and before we hit midnight in one minute, I want you to know how much I appreciate you and the way you’ve supported me this year. A lot of wives would’ve run for the hills when their husband suddenly became president. But not my wife. She was a trouper.”
“She complained a lot behind your back.”
His ringing laughter made her smile. God, she loved to make him laugh. “For which I would soundly spank her, except she has a busted ass.”
“Raincheck?”
“Yeah, baby.” He leaned in to kiss her as the sky exploded with fireworks that Scotty and Eli had gone to watch on the South Lawn. “This is gonna be our year. I feel it.”
“What does that even mean? How can we top this last year? You’re the freaking president.”
“We’re going to top ourselves. I feel it in my bones.”
“Well, my broken bones are saying enough already.”
“Never enough. If I have you right here next to me, I can do anything, even be the freaking president. And you, my unstoppable love, are going to have another remarkable year. I just know it.”
“An okay year would be fine with me.”
“Nah, we’re shooting for the stars, babe.”
“This is already our third New Year’s, and look how far we’ve come from when you were promising me one year in the Senate, and then we could get back to normal. Ah,” she said on a deep sigh, “weren’t those the good old days?”
His eyes sparkled with amusement. “I can think of only one way to shut you up that never fails.” With his fingers on her chin, he tipped up her face to receive his kiss. Leaning his forehead on hers, he said, “Happy New Year, love, and cheers to us and our amazing family.”
“Cheers to us.”
January came at them like a tsunami of activity, obligations and grueling physical therapy at the hands of a sadist named Nancy, who came to the White House daily. Sam and Nick hosted their first state dinner as president and first lady for the German chancellor, which had been on the schedule long before President Nelson passed away. The pomp and ceremony of the evening reminded Sam of the night she and Nick got engaged in the Rose Garden, during an earlier state dinner for the Canadian prime minister. Fortunately, she’d graduated to a cane by then and didn’t have to be on a walker in the photos.