For now though, I have to be more careful.
But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop seeing her.
No, that would be smart. And right now, I’m definitely not smart.
I am getting what I want, though.5MaggieI’m so neck-deep in healthcare polling for the next few days that I almost forget to breathe.
It’s not easy, polling people. It takes time and energy and patience. Fortunately, I have time and energy, but I don’t have a ton of patience.
“You want to know what?” the old lady croaks at me.
“Your opinion on single-payer healthcare systems, ma’am,” I say. “Such as what Canada currently has.”
“Canada? What do they have?”
“Healthcare, ma’am.”
“Oh, yes, I love healthcare. It’s great. My Medicare just does it all.”
“But what about Medicare for everyone?” I ask her, going off script.
“For who?”
I sigh and end the call not long later. I go to my next number and mark that call down as “No Data.”
And so it goes, on and on. I have some help, and slowly we gather some data. Not a lot of data, not a diverse set, but enough for now.
By the end of the week, I have a little bit for him. Not a lot, but a little bit. I want to get more, but I know he’s impatient.
I don’t know when I’ll see him again, though. I don’t hear anything from Adam all that week, although I don’t expect him to get in touch with me constantly or anything like that.
I mean, he’s the President. He’s busy.
Still, I’m excited, on the edge of my seat, just waiting for that call.
It finally comes on Friday night. I’m working late, like I have been every night this week. I’m one of the last people in my wing, and as I pack up my stuff, I can hardly believe that it’s after nine at night.
I stumble out into the hall, bleary and exhausted, looking forward to a couple days off. Well, not off. A couple days with less work, at least.
I get halfway down the hall when I hear my name. “Maggie Thomas.”
I turn and spot a Secret Service agent coming toward me. I hesitate a second before my heart starts beating faster.
I know what this means.
I follow the agent toward the Oval Office. “He’ll see you now,” the man says, letting me in. I can’t tell if it’s the same agent from the other night.
They all sort of look alike.
Adam looks up. He’s sitting on the couch, legs on the coffee table, binders spread around him.
“There you are,” he says.
“Hi, Adam,” I say.
He grins. “Come in. Sit.”
I sit down on the couch across from him. “You’re always reading, aren’t you?” I ask.
He shrugs. “It’s my job. Can’t make decisions if I’m not informed.”
“Still. You’re human, aren’t you?”
He grins. “Probably.”
I smile. He doesn’t look quite so tired this time. “I heard about what happened at the yogurt place,” I say.
He sighs. “Sorry about that.”
“No, it’s okay. Mostly just staffers are talking about it, anyway.”
“Good. Reporters can be…” He trails off and shrugs. “They mean well.”
“But there’s no story here.”
“Right,” he says slowly, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”
I hesitate, surprised. I stare back into his eyes, and he breaks out into a grin.
“You should see your face,” he says.
I sigh, relaxing, smiling again. “Sorry,” I say.
“God, it’s like the thought of having an inappropriate relationship with me just scared the hell out of you.”
“It did,” I admit.
“Huh. I thought I was the hot President.”
I stare at him and he laughs.
“What?” he asks. “I’ve seen the data. I’m not an idiot.”
“I just… I didn’t expect you to actually know that.”
“Of course I know.”
“Well, okay, yeah. You are the hot President. That’s not the scary part.”
“What is?”
“The President part.”
He laughs and shrugs, closing a binder. “It’s not a big deal, really. It’s just an office. People are in these positions, after all.”
I bite my lip, trying to digest what he’s saying to me. My heart’s beating so fast, and I can feel my palms sweating.
He’s attractive. I can’t deny it. I’m attracted to him physically and emotionally. He’s funny, intelligent, and clearly cares about people. He’s the reason I’m here to begin with.
But an affair with the President? I mean, Presidents have gone down for that in the past.
Then again, he’s single. I’m single.
He’s only twice my age. Well, a little less than twice, but still.
It would be a scandal. It could completely ruin him, and destroy any chance at solving healthcare.
And yet all I can think about is kissing him.
He stands and walks over to the Resolute desk. I watch him carefully as he opens a lower drawer.
And takes out a bottle of whiskey along with two glasses.
I groan.
“Seriously? In that desk?”
“What?” He grins, pouring two drinks. “There have been plenty of asshole Presidents in the past. You think this is the worst thing ever kept in this desk?”