by Beth Fred
“Are you going to open it?” he asks.
“It’s probably just divorce papers.”
Chapter 58
Eric
“Watch this new ad paid for by the SARTS or Save America from Reality TV Stars Super PAC,” a brunette guy with hair as curly as Justin Timberlake in the 90s says into my TV screen.
Oh boy. Can’t wait to see this. I should probably get rid of the TV. Every time I turn it on, something outlandish has to happen. One thing is for sure. After this news cycle, sit-coms will never hold my attention again.
The screen turns black and fades into a picture of my wife sitting in a dark armchair hugging her denim-clad knees with her head buried in her lap. She raises her head. “Here’s what you don’t know about ending a marriage. It hurts more than anything you’ve ever been through. More than anything you can imagine. You’re torn between wanting to annihilate yourself and wanting to rip your other half apart. So when someone’s ex-wife says, “Vote for him. He’s a good man. He cares about people. He’s dedicating his life to helping people,” you can bet it’s true. And that’s why I’m voting for Eric Martinez. As his soon-to-be ex-wife, I can say I’ve seen the man at his best and his worst. And even at his worst, he’s worried about you. About his fellow Americans and how he could keep you—me—us out of the hands of a would-be dictator. No lies here. I’m heartbroken, but that doesn’t make me willing to overlook the talent and tenacity that is Eric Martinez. And that his heartbroken soon-to-be ex would come out and say this means you should listen.”
Mandy sinks back into the chair, and the camera fades out.
My chest tightens so much I lose my breath. My stomach rumbles. I choke down bile in the back of my throat then reach over and grab the cell phone from the nightstand.
He picks up on the first ring. “Hello, boss?”
“Would you quit calling me that?”
He laughs. “What do you want?”
“I guess it’s safe to say the reporters haven’t been bothering her. It seems like she’s been looking for them.”
“The commercial. I wondered what you would think about it.”
“Have we received any interesting documents?”
“You told me to keep my eye on your girl. I haven’t been to your townhouse or your ranch.”
He’s going to make me come right out and ask. “Has she filed?”
“Filed what? If you need something filed, I’ll call Maria.”
“Don’t be funny. Has she filed for divorce?”
“Not that I know of. She won’t open the envelope because she’s convinced it’s divorce papers.” This gives me hope. Maybe she doesn’t hate me after all.
“Open it for her. Set it out somewhere she’ll find it. I’m coming home today.” I have to talk to her, see her, convince her she’s the only woman I love. I’ve ever loved. Because I don’t think I can live without this girl.
“We won’t be here.”
“We? Where are you going with Mandy?”
George laughs. “This was your idea. Don’t get mad. She’s flying to the Midwest tomorrow and planning a road trip of campaign stops for you.”
“George, is she angry?”
“I can’t tell. She cusses you one minute and threatens anyone who trashes you the next.”
She wants to be mad, but she still loves me. I hope.
Chapter 59
Mandy
A delicate necklace of woven gold and diamonds and a matching pair of earrings lay on the peninsula bar when I wake up. George sits on a stool eating his Frosted Mini-Wheats topless. His chiseled abs and tight pecs are on full display. Kristin is right. George is hot. I can’t enjoy the view, though. I only wish he was Eric, and this was one of those days I was slipping down to a hotel buffet before he was awake to bring him breakfast. Or better yet, one of the days I woke up with an omelet and coffee on the table and Eric sitting beside me, watching me sleep.
I clip a strand of hair out of my eyes with an alligator clip. “Kristin! Come get your crap out of the kitchen.”
A bang echoes from another room. I smile. Kristin has rolled out of bed. I’m sure of it.
She comes in the living room wearing boxer shorts and a sports bra. “What do you want?”
“Get your stuff and put it up.”
She glances at the jewelry. “Wow. That is nice. But it’s not mine.”
I shrug. “It’s not mine, either. Where did it come from?”
George takes a bite of cereal dribbling milk on his chin. “The manila envelope.”
Kristin looks at him. “All your hotness just died.”
He wipes his chin. “Sorry.” He looks to me. “It came from the manila envelope. It’s yours. Eric sent it.”
“Does he think he can buy me?”
George shoves the spoon in his mouth again. “He technically already did.”
Kristin laughs.
I glare at George then pick up the jewelry and hand it to Kristin. “It’s yours.”
“Mandy, are you sure? He might get upset.”
“He cares about me so much that he can’t call or text but can send diamonds. I’m pretty sure you can have it. He’s probably texting Clarissa anyhow. And speaking of my husband’s girlfriend, I have to pick her up before heading to the airport.”
George drops his spoon. “You didn’t say she was coming.”
“The press won’t believe my story unless she’s there. She didn’t want to come, but Martinez’s campaign more than fairly compensated her for the day.”
“So he knows about it?” George asks.
“I don’t know. I communicate through Evan now,” I say.
“Evan’s hot,” Kristin says.
“You have hot on the brain,” George says.
“Leave Super Roommate Girl alone. And if you’re coming with me, put a shirt on.”
“If Clarissa is coming, I really don’t want to be involved with this.”
“Fine.”
“I’m not allowed to let you out of my sight,” George says.
I smirk. “So glad my loving husband is a control freak.”
“You have got to give the guy a break,” George says.
“Uh, excuse me, I’m up at five in the morning ‘to give the guy a break.’”
We stop by Clarissa’s townhouse on the way to the airport, and she slips into the car wearing a silk business suit and looking way more like a First Lady than I ever will.
As soon as we’ve hit ground in Indiana, we’re out campaigning. Clarissa floats along in her silk suit and black heels. She’s another blue-eyed blonde but elegant, graceful, and poised. I stomp around in jeans and a sweater over mint cowboy boots like a true Arkansas farm girl. I don’t have to care that she looks better than me, sounds better than me, or that he only chose me to be her clone. I’m not doing this for him. I have one motive: keep a volatile reality TV star from access to nuclear weapons. And my slightly chubby cheeks are good enough for that.
Chapter 60
Eric
Where are you?
I text George for the three hundredth time.
George: Columbus.
Me: Do not let her leave before I get there. And don’t tell her I’m coming.
***
I backtrack through Nashville and back to Columbus. George’s latest text says they’re at the First Baptist Church.
When I get there, the doors to the church are locked. I go around the building to another door. Locked. I try all the doors. Locked. I take out my phone to text George again. No signal. I’m ready to fling the phone. I didn’t come this far to leave without making things right with my wife. Amanda Martinez is the love of my life, and she will know it whether she cares or not.
But this is checkmate. I have no idea how to find her.
An unmistakable laugh comes from my right where a black iron gate lined with climbing ivies stands. It’s probably my head playing jokes on me, but I look over the gate. A beautiful blonde kneels down in front of a brown baby
with curly black hair and a red lollipop. “Now the bunny goes around the tree and through the hole.” The toddler jumps and claps, dropping her sucker in Mandy’s hair. Mandy laughs and hands it to a slender brunette woman standing behind the kid. She stands and shakes the woman’s hand. I slip my arm through the gate and unlock it.
“Hi, Eric,” a Texas drawl says.
My eyes follow the trail of the voice. Wrong blonde. “Clarissa, what are you doing here?”
“Your wife hired me to campaign for you.”
“Why would she do that?”
“I assumed you put her up to it.”
“No.” I turn my head to find Mandy again. She’s hard to miss. She’s staring at Clarissa and me, blue eyes glossy.
This is not off to a good start. She turns her back as soon as I make eye contact.
I take another step and realize she isn’t wearing the necklace or the earrings. She still has on her ring, but she’s campaigning. She would.
I walk up behind her and hear, “No ex-wife goes out and campaigns for her husband. That I’m out here should tell you Eric is a great man. And he cares about people.” She sighs. “Without the pressure of a presidential campaign, we might have survived marriage intact. But he really is a good man, and you don’t want someone as unstable as Kourtney Simpleton with her hand on a nuke.” She grins at the end of it like she’s closing a deal.
The woman she talks to seems to buy into it, smiling back. “I’m sure he’s a good man, sweetheart. And you’re a very kind lady. There is no way I’d campaign for my ex.”
I drop my hand on Mandy’s back. “Amanda, look at me, please.”
She slowly turns to face me with a tear in her eye. I brush it away with my thumb. I’d rather be dead than see this girl cry. “You’re angry,” she says, “because I told everyone about Clarissa.”
“I wish you would have been honest with me about who you were. And at least talked to me before publishing that blog article—”
“Kristin published it while I was out. I didn’t know about it until people started commenting. I took it down, but it was too late.”
“Really? She said she published it during the press conference, but I thought she was giving you an excuse.”
Mandy shakes her head. “I was hurt when I wrote it. It was like venting for me, but I loved you too much to publish it.”
Loved. It doesn’t escape my attention she used the past tense. “Loved?” I can wear her down again, but I need to know what I’m up against.
She doesn’t answer.
“It doesn’t matter. Right now I just want one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Quit campaigning as my future ex-wife.”
“Eric, you need the help. You’re at a deadlock. I think the extra campaigning could be enough to push you over, and Evan does too. It isn’t just for you. I don’t want Simpleton to win.”
I laugh. “You know you’re a Democrat, right?”
She smiles with her one dimple showing. “American first.”
“I do need you on the campaign trail, but not as my ex-wife. I plan to keep my vow, and if you don’t want me anymore, I’ll change your mind. You can’t campaign as my ex-wife, because you are my wife. You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved.”
“No. The woman you love is here.”
I pull her into me and hold her. “Loved. And I was a kid then, Mandy. I didn’t know what I wanted. I hadn’t found what I wanted. I have now, and I’m not letting go.”
“But—”
I close my lips around hers. I trace her mouth with my tongue, and my arm trembles when she does the same. My mind is filled with images of the night we became one. My heart knows we will always be one, and that only makes me hold her tighter and dip her to deepen the kiss. People laugh, and I pull away. The angel in front of me still has my full attention, though. “I’m sorry. I just—I missed you.”
“This is going in campaign materials,” Evan says.
I look up and see him holding out a phone. He taps it and puts it in his pocket.
“What are you doing here? I came to get you. You’re supposed to be in Oregon. I have to rework your schedule now because you took an unplanned detour, and I’m staying with you to make sure you can do what you’re supposed to.” Eric crosses his arms.
“Fine.”
Mandy sees the crowd staring at us. Her face turns crimson. Her weight becomes heavier in my arms. “Are you okay?” I whisper.
She nods, but she’s pale.
I pick up my wife and carry her out the gate and to the stairs of the church. “What’s wrong?”
She scans the area to make sure no one is around. “Can we talk?”
“I didn’t fly to the Midwest for any other reason.”
“You can probably work it out with Clarissa if you want to.”
“But I don’t. Why would you say that?”
“It’s unusual that you’d not date for years after your ex-girlfriend then contract a marriage with a girl who looks like her. Almost like you’re trying to replace the ex.”
I laugh. “Umm, my wife looks nothing like my ex-girlfriend.”
She glares at me. “Because she’s thinner and taller?”
“Yes. With less cleavage and narrow hips.”
“So she’s thin.”
“First of all, I love you. I love that you have this stupid blog you didn’t tell me about, and you fly back and forth to Dallas to finish school, even with a loaded husband, you demand to work as First Lady, and you argue with me every chance you get. If you gain a hundred pounds and dye your hair black, none of that changes. But I love your body too. You’re comfy to sleep on, beautiful to hold, and you look like a mom. You look like a woman to come home to at night.”
Chapter 61
Mandy
I wedge myself closer to him. He follows my lead, tightening his grip around me. I run my fingers through his hair then press my lips to his, tasting them with my tongue. Eric opens his mouth.
Someone clears their throat. I pull away to find Clarissa standing in front of us.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Her eyes focus on Eric. “Can we talk?”
My heart drops. I know what she wants. Exactly what she wants. And whatever he says, I’m not convinced I can compete with the modelesque non-basket-weaver. My whole body goes stiff. Eric must feel it because he tightens his grip on me.
“Sure,” he says.
“Privately.”
I’m going to be sick. I know where this is going.
“Anything you can say to me, you can say in front of my wife. I’ll have to tell her later anyway.”
She stares down at the concrete then raises her head. She glares at him. “This would be hard enough with just you.” Her eyes soften. “It’s just I’m sorry, Eric. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the pregnancy, and I’m sorry I-I ended it.”
“Thank you,” he says.
“Thank you? That’s it? Just thank you? Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to talk about?”
“I do. It’s probably as hard for you to talk about as it is for me to talk about. Are you also sorry you just left me without discussing it?”
My heart rips in two. I start to push myself to my feet.
Eric’s arm tightens around me. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I shouldn’t be here for this. It’s private.”
“Mandy, you’re part of my life. It’s a difficult conversation, but I’m not having a conversation with a woman you think I’m in love with without you around.”
“But—”
He places a hand over my mouth. “But nothing. I don’t have anything to hide, and I won’t. It’s been years. We’ve had plenty of time to talk, and we haven’t yet. Now that I’m married, this isn’t the right time for us to go off alone to rehash the past.”
“I love you,” I whisper.
“I love you too,” he says.
“But you never loved me.” Clar
issa shifts her hands to her hips. “That’s why I had to do it. Because you never loved me, and I couldn’t trap you in a life you didn’t want.”
“Clarissa, I can’t answer that. I thought I loved you. There was a time I would have died for you, but after the abortion, I don’t feel like I ever really knew you. I don’t think you get to use my lack of affection or love for you as an excuse. But I am sorry we had sex when we weren’t married and that you didn’t feel like you could let me help you with the consequences.”
Clarissa shakes her head. “You will never understand.”
“Probably not. I’m sorry.”
She walks away.
“I’m sorry you had to hear all of that. I don’t think I could handle hearing about your relationships with men before you met me.”
“Eric, your past is the past. I know you had a life before you met me. I’m okay with that. But I love that you want me to know you’re not hiding anything. I just freaked out when I saw her because she’s gorgeous, not a basket-weaver, and you didn’t date for ten years after her. You had to be pretty hung up on her.”
His arms close around me, pressing my head to his chest. “I didn’t date for ten years after that because the one thing I learned from my time with Clarissa is that relationships are complicated and messy. And I couldn’t go through that again. But I do want you to know everything. I want you to know that I married you because my campaign manager told me to, but I found the best wife any man could ask for, and this isn’t a contract anymore. My heart, my life, my everything—it’s yours.”
Chapter 62
Mandy
We’re back in Texas for Election Day. A reporter follows Eric in then waits for him to come out of the booth. “Did you vote for yourself?”
“No, I voted against myself,” Eric says with a straight face. “Are you crazy?”
The reporter smiles. “Well, I have to ask.”
