Page 19 of Bodyman

As Sam began to lob his softball questions at us, I marveled at how easy this part was. Claiming my love for President Garner Ashley was as easy as explaining what type of flower the nearby roses were. It was a truth simply stated and unimpeachable.

So when Sam Tetlow turned to me and asked what I would tell people who criticized my personal relationship with the president, I smiled and answered truthfully. “Truthfully, I hope I would simply ignore it. What would I wish I could tell them?” I grinned. “That often the deepest hate comes from the deepest desire.” I shot a teasing glance at the man beside me. “Garner’s not the only one who can break out a famous quote to make a point. Mine was Socrates. Who happens to pre-date Truman by a good two thousand years.”

Garner laughed and squeezed my hand. I turned back to face Sam and the cameras. “The truth is, we will be criticized. But if we—and by that, I mean anyone—let criticism keep us from living our lives, then that leaves us with half a life. I can’t think of anything more miserable than making choices based on what a stranger thinks is best for me rather than what I know is best for me. And Garner Ashley? He’s the best for me. Hands down, without a doubt.”

I felt the warmth of Garner’s gaze on the side of my face. Later, I would watch the interview and see how clear his love for me was in his expression. But I didn’t need to see it to feel it. The connection between us was real. Strong. Undeniable.

Sam wrapped up the interview and stuck around to congratulate us on an exciting new venture. “It will seem like this is the most scandalous thing to hit the country in the entire history of the world,” he cautioned. “But if there’s one thing I know for sure after doing this for several decades, it’s that what seems scandalous today will seem ordinary tomorrow. Believe me when I tell you it’s just a matter of time.”

He offered his unwavering support for the future in any way he could give it, which was nice to hear.

Because the following days and weeks and months were hard as hell. But Sam Tetlow was right.

Another scandal came along less than a year later and blew ours out of the water.

Six months after that, another one landed.

And six months after that, President Garner Ashley proposed to his bodyman and announced a historic summer wedding at the White House.

Which started the scandal cycle all over again…

EPILOGUE

GARNER

I was impressed with what a good job the wedding planners had done. The Kennedy Garden had looked magical during the ceremony at sunset, and the Rose Garden had been covered in tents strung with thousands of white lights. Fat, colorful flowers decorated the dinner tables, and scattered candles added to the intimate feeling of the sit-down dinner reception.

We’d capped the invitations at two hundred, which meant the event was one of the most coveted invitations in presidential history.

Anyone who’d wanted to come for gossip reasons or to curry political favor had been crossed off the list immediately by my sister and Kenan. The two of them had been ruthless to the point that my chief of staff had begged me to intervene and release a few invitations for critical VIPs.

In the end, the guest list was almost perfect. Kenan and I had both felt relaxed and happy. We’d been able to laugh and dance and kiss without worrying about anything other than enjoying the moment.

Kenan’s father had been one of our biggest obstacles, but even he had reluctantly accepted our relationship after he’d heard me make an offhand comment about how I’d always wanted to work at a hardware store.

He hadn’t heard the part where I’d pretty much admitted that any job had to be more relaxing than my current one.

Kenan sidled up to me after saying good night to my parents and sending them off to the residence with an aide. “We need to leave before my dad corners you about why you aren’t supporting Kim Nagy in the midterms,” he murmured in my ear.

I laughed and turned to kiss his cheek. “Kim Nagy is still doing consulting work for a foreign gov?—”

“Dearest husband,” he said with a finger to my lips. “I already know why you’re not supporting that campaign. What I am trying not to say too loudly is this. I would like to fuck my husband now, and since it’s my wedding night, I have a legal right to demand certain behaviors from my spouse.”

I let out a laugh, yanking his arm down and threading my fingers in his. “A legal right, huh?”

“Mmhm.”

“That sounds serious.”

“It is. It really is.”

“Maybe I should talk to your husband about this. Demand he straighten up and fly right. Do his duties, as it were.”

“You should.”

I made a point of turning to look through the dwindling crowd. “Is he around? Which one is he?”

He pulled me close and wrapped his arms around me. “He’s the sexiest man here. You can’t miss him.”

I leaned in and kissed him. Familiar voices hooted and teased, but I didn’t pay them any attention.

Kenan pulled away. “Come to bed, President Husband,” he murmured. “I have big plans for you tonight.”

And so he did.

That night, the first First Gentleman of the United States got on his knees for his husband.

And did whatever the man asked of him.