“It was actually the next thing I was going to show you. Seems she was a hit with the kids and the paper wrote a nice little article about her. She’s exactly what your campaign needs.” He slides the paper over to show Cal where he looks over the article before focusing in on the pictures.
“Elizabeth, why aren’t you wearing shoes?” He turns slowly in his seat to look at me.
“Because I was shooting a basketball and couldn’t get into a good stance in my heels,” I reply slowly, still not seeing what the problem is.
“Do you know how it looks to see the wife of a Fitzgerald—the future first lady—to be parading around barefoot? You’re going to be the laughing stock of my family’s circle of friends now.” His tone never changes. It’s very calm and low, but his eyes show everything. He sees this as an embarrassment. A blemish on the family name. And now he’s pissed about it.
“You can’t be serious. They were off for thirty seconds.” Is he really making a big deal about something so insignificant? I’ll bet the article doesn’t even mention my shoeless feet. “I hardly think it’s that big of a d—” I start but am cut off.
“You know you’re job is this family. You are to present yourself in a way that doesn’t mar the family’s reputation and name. Do you want people to think that you run around shoeless all the time? That I don’t properly provide for you and your basic needs?” I almost snort at that comment since that’s all he does. I’m provided for in all material aspects, but the things that matter—love, companionship, friendship—they’re all missing.
Feeling like a petulant child, my eyes look down to avoid the disapproving stare coming off of Cal. “I’m sorry. I really wasn’t thinking.”
“Yes, well we’ll just make sure I’m at all press functions with you from now on to keep slip ups like these from happening again. Also, why would you let all these kids onto our bus? This is our home and you let them waltz right in.” He slides the article over to me where there’s a picture of the kids climbing on to the bus. Each has a smile on their face, bringing one to my own even now.
“Look at their faces, Cal. They were so happy and excited to do something so simple.” I’m trying to get him to see reason, to see that he’s being completely irrational on both fronts.
“You don’t know these kids. Most of them come from poor, broken families. Any one of them could’ve stolen something. Is that what you want? To be robbed blind by a future thug?” My mouth falls open at his description of these sweet, innocent kids. It’s true that not all of them have had an easy lot in life, but then again neither had I.
“What the cameras didn’t show, sir, is that I gave them all a pat down once they exited the bus. I assure you nothing was stolen,” Alex chimes in. I look over Cal’s shoulder at him, confused by his false statement. Alex was on the bus with me the whole time. He wasn’t patting kids down as they walked off. Cal turns his attention back to me, but my focus is still on Alex. His wink lets me know he’s trying to help bail me out. I fight off the huge smile that threatens to take over my face.
“Well, looks like you’re coming in handy, Mr. Matthews.”
“Like I told you the first day, sir, I’m here to protect all your assets.”
The topic is dropped and Cal moves on to more pressing issues involving the campaign. A sense of gratefulness takes over. Alex saved me from being berated and belittled in front of them. The thought brings a small smile to my face as I wait for us to exit the bus.
“Congressman Fitzgerald, what makes you a good fit to be the next president of the United States?” Cindy White, the reporter asks. I’m standing off camera behind her watching Cal answer the questions.
“I believe in the American people. I believe in their ability to make America great. Our country needs a leader that will fight for them; fight for their jobs, higher wages, their kids’ education, all the things that are important to the people.”
“You brought up kids, and we just saw the spread on your wife, Mrs. Fitzgerald, and her work with the Boys and Girls Club. You don’t have any kids of your own, is that something you see yourself doing in the future? Will there be any Fitzgerald babies running through the White House if you’re elected?” My heart stops. The one question I never wanted anyone to touch on. In fact, I thought these questions were preapproved by Cal’s staff. Why the hell would they let this one through knowing Cal and his family never wants to talk about it?
“Well,” Cal starts in a somber voice. He glances at me and looks down before bringing his attention back up to Cindy. His eyes have taken on a saddened look now, and my curiosity is piqued as to where this is going. “My beautiful wife and I would’ve loved to have kids. Unfortunately, after several tests with fertility doctors,” he stops, looking like he’s composing himself. My eyebrows furrow, waiting for him to finish. “Elizabeth is not able to have children.” He looks like he’s choking back the sorrow—eyes red-rimmed, mouth turned down, swallowing hard—that my failure as a woman has caused. I feel as if the air has been knocked out of me. I stagger back slightly, feeling like I’ve been hit in the face. Without much thought, I numbly turn around and leave the room, desperate to make it back to the bus before I fall apart.
Once I’m out of the room, I practically run down the hallway. The rapid clicking of my heels fills the hallway. “Elizabeth, wait!” I hear Alex shout to me, but I don’t slow down or look back. I need to get to the bus. Alex makes it to my side and I see him look at me from my periphery. I’m not sure what he sees, but whatever it is keeps him from questioning me or asking me to stop. He puts his hand at the small of my back and helps escort me to the safety of the tour bus.
I climb up the steps and try to make it to the bedroom, but stop at the table. I brace both hands on the table and squeeze my eyes shut. “That bastard!” I shout. How dare he say that on live television! I hear the bus door open and close. Looking over to my left, I notice the driver is nowhere to be seen. My outburst is probably responsible for his hasty exit.
“Elizabeth, what’s wrong? Please, talk to me.” I notice he doesn’t make a move to touch me, giving me my space.
A humorless laugh escapes my lips. That’s it, I’m officially losing it. Being in this shitty marriage with this fake life has finally caused me to lose touch with reality. A gentle touch to my arm breaks me free from my hysteria. I turn to face Alex. “Cal, he lied.”
Shaking his head slightly, he says, “About what?”
“About us having kids. It’s not me, it’s him. He’s the one with the fertility issues, not me. He just took the one thing I’ve always wanted and blamed me for not having it.” My heart hurts and a small fire coils in my stomach. I’m crushed and furious at the same time. When we started trying, Grace told me constantly that the most important part of being a woman is being able to carry a child. Especially in my life, what else is there for me to do other than raise kids? I don’t contribute to society in any real way, but I thought having kids would be my way of leaving a mark on this world. I’d be able to raise incredible children that would do something with their lives. They would be more than I ever was, and kind and giving unlike their father. They would be the best part of me and make the world a better place with their achievements. It wouldn’t be about the bottom dollar for them, it would be about making a difference. But that will never happen, and now everyone thinks it’s because of me. In his one comment, he has stripped me bare and made me feel lower than I ever have before.
“Come here, let’s sit down.” He guides me over to the couch and puts his arm around my shoulder in comfort once we’re seated. “I still don’t get it. Why would he lie about that though?”
I huff out a small laugh. “You don’t know Cal and his family very well. Everything rests on public perception and appearances. You saw the way they acted because I took my heels off on the basketball court. They’re ridiculous with this stuff. We had tried to have kids, being told by his mother that it was about time to do so. How we needed to have a child to lea
ve his inheritance to, to carry on the family history. After trying for a while, we went to the doctor. Of course, they thought the problem was me. They tested me for all kinds of issues before turning to Cal. They did a few tests and it was determined that he has fertility issues. His sperm count is so low he’s basically shooting blanks. His mother was mortified. How would it look if her son wasn’t able to have children? That there would be no one to carry on the family name and legacy of greatness and wealth? You would’ve thought Cal had a grotesque deformity with the way she acted. She made the doctor and nurses sign a nondisclosure agreement and threatened me if I told anyone. She said we would just act as if the issue never existed. We wouldn’t acknowledge it and pretend that it was a choice to be childless rather than a medical issue. Until today, we never have talked about it.” I sigh, feeling exhausted and relieved. It feels good to get that burden off of my chest, but I’m mentally drained from the sudden emotional swings I’ve been feeling lately.
“Wow, I don’t really know what to say.” His fingers draw small circles on my shoulder, further relaxing me. “Do they think they’re royalty or some shit?” he mumbles. I appreciate his attempt to lighten the mood.
“It’s okay. There’s not much for you to say. I’m probably just overreacting, but I was really shocked when he said that to the reporter. Especially with the way he was playing up his sadness. Cal doesn’t even like kids.” I shake my head at the thought of actually having a baby with him. I can’t picture him doing anything with a baby. No diaper changes, feedings, late night rocking, nothing. Maybe it’s best that we’re not able to have any. I wouldn’t want to raise a child in the same misery I feel on a daily basis.
“He’s missing out. You’d make some gorgeous babies.” I turn to look at Alex, his honesty catching me off guard. When our eyes lock, I feel it. The connection, the chemistry, the invisible electric current that draws me to him. Our eyes stay locked on each other; his blues to my greens. With our close proximity I know something is about to happen, and it will change everything in my life forever. But at the same time, I’m absolutely helpless to stop it.
His hand comes up slowly to brush a piece of hair behind my ear, his eyes following the movement as he goes. His finger trails down the side of my face and neck before disconnecting from my skin. The loss causing me to feel cold and needy for his touch again. His gaze fixates on my lips and I instinctively lick them. He leans in the smallest amount before stopping, hesitation written all over his face. I’m like a statue, afraid to move for fear of ending whatever is about to happen. The indecision he’s fighting is playing across his features, a war raging within. His eyes break away from my lips and connect with my eyes. I’m not sure what he sees in them, but it pushes him over the edge. He crashes into me, pressing his lips firmly against mine. My breath is stolen away at the same time that I feel like I’m breathing in a new life. He’s attentive, affectionate, and knows exactly what to do with his tongue to drive me completely wild.
His hand comes up to cup my cheek as he slows the kiss down. His tongue traces my lower lip before it makes its way back into my mouth engaging in a slow tango with mine. The heat and passion are almost too much to bare, sending warmth straight to my core and soaking my panties right through. I’m about to wrap my arms around him and pull him in closer when he breaks the connection. His forehead rests against mine with his eyes closed and he drags in each breath. Both of our chests are heaving up and down, trying to regulate our breathing and heartbeat.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry Elizabeth,” he pulls away and what I see crushes me.
Regret.
Standing quickly, he walks to the front of the bus and exits, leaving me alone with my thoughts. After a moment, I go to the window at the side of the bus and look out hoping to see him. He’s standing there, hands on his hips, shaking his head back and forth. I can’t see his face, but the slumped posture tells me he’s tortured. I don’t know if it’s because he’s fighting this indescribable connection between us, or if he really regrets kissing me. I’m not sure what the hell that was or what this means for my future, but I do know that there’s something missing that I’d thought would be there after kissing another man.
Guilt.
I don’t feel guilty in the slightest. Maybe I should, but all I can think about is the taste of Alex’s peppermint gum and the way he felt against my lips. My body is still vibrating with the residual electricity. I know without certainty that Alex has ruined me. Nothing will ever compare to this moment. I’d bet my life on it.
WHEN ALEX COMES back on the bus, Cal is following closely behind him. We lock eyes for the briefest of moments before Cal’s thundering voice breaks the connection.
“What the hell was that, Elizabeth?” He’s mad at me? The nerve of this man is maddening. It’s taking everything in me not to tell him to fuck off.
“I’m not sure what you mean.” I’m surprised my voice comes out even and doesn’t give away the true feelings rolling around within me. Hate, betrayal, hurt, emptiness.
Longing.
Longing to be in a relationship with someone who loves me for me, not for the political points he’d gain. Longing to be with a man where I don’t have to worry about every word that comes out of my mouth or every action I do. A man who won’t reprimand me for being myself.
“Why would you run out on me in the middle of an interview? Reporters will eat that shit up with a spoon! The next headline won’t be how I’ll change America, it’ll be about how my wife stormed off set.” Anger radiates off of him, but his is no match for mine. Figures he’d make this about him. As if the reason for why I left never crossed his mind. He’s the most selfish, self centered bastard I’ve ever met in my whole life, further cementing the hate I feel festering and growing each day I’m imprisoned to him.
Not wanting to cause a scene in front of Alex and the driver who has since reappeared, I do my best to calm him down. “I’m sorry, Cal, I really am. You know the topic of children is a hard one for me. Next time I’ll be prepared and won’t react that way. Okay?” I give him a small smile and reach my hand out to touch his arm. Truth is, if I had been told before that was one of the questions and given the answer Cal was going to recite, I would’ve been able to hide the shock and hurt. I would’ve been upset, but it wouldn’t have come as such a blow. I would’ve kept my Stepford wife appearance in check and there wouldn’t have been an issue. Telling Cal that would be seen as a critique on how he’s running this campaign—our lives—so I keep that information to myself and hope my apology will suffice.
His jaw ticks a few times before he replies, “Don’t leave my side like that again. We’re a united front and you will show that, no matter what I talk about. Understand?” I nod in acknowledgement. Seeming happy with my response, he shrugs my hand off and retreats to the bedroom, closing the door behind him.
The bus driver alerts us that we’re about to head home before he goes behind the closed partition that separates him from the rest of the bus. Slowly, I turn to face Alex where I’m met with a face full of tension. Upon further inspection, I see something lurking in the shadows, dying to break free.
Lust.
And I feel it too. The short separation has done nothing to cool the heat between us. It’s evident in the way he drinks me in with his eyes, and the way my core tightens with his presence. I open my mouth to speak, but close it and bite my bottom lip afraid of saying the wrong thing. I don’t need to worry about the right words, because something inside Alex snaps and he comes charging toward me. He grabs my face with both hands before sealing my lips with his. I realize that no words need to be spoken. We’re communicating enough with our mouths.
I want you. I need you. You make me feel special, wanted, important, desired. Don’t let me go.
All of the things I can’t say out loud pour into this kiss. I tried to ignore it before, but there’s no denying it now. I want Alex. No, I need him. He’s become the one bright spot to my otherwise dark days. It’s his
smile, his bright blue eyes, his voice, his scent, and now his kiss that make each day worth getting up for. I know I should pull away. This is wrong and Cal is in the next room, but all rational thinking flies out the window while he’s caressing me with his lips and holding me to him. He draws me in closer and I feel the ever-growing bulge in his pants spurring on my own arousal and soaking my panties. I forget all about my current heartache and anger over today, over my life. Right now I can live in the moment, in the comfort Alex’s touch provides.
Alex slows the kiss down, giving me a few pecks before he rests his forehead against mine, hands still holding my face. “What the hell am I doing?” he asks, more to himself than me. His eyes are closed tight and I wish there was something I could say, but all words fail me. I’m still riding high from that kiss and my brain is unable to perform basic functions at this point. His eyes open, staring deep into mine. “God, I’m so sorry. I know we shouldn’t—we can’t do this. You’re not mine and I had no right doing that.” His voice is strained, pained even as he removes his hands from me and takes a step back. I feel deserted from the loss of contact. “I’ve tried, Elizabeth, believe me I’ve tried to stay away from you. To keep it professional, but I can’t. I need you to keep your distance from me. Please.” His eyes are pleading as he confesses what we’ve both felt.
“What if I don’t want to?” I ask so quietly, I’m not sure he heard me, but by the widening of his eyes and his sudden intake of air, I know he did. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m scared as hell and haven’t felt such raw emotion like this ever in my life.
He shakes his head slightly. “You can’t mean that. You know nothing about me. Are you prepared to leave your husband, because I’m not a sharing kind of man. When I’m with a woman, she’s mine and mine alone.” His possessiveness sends a tingle down my spine, heating up my already throbbing core.
Hidden in Lies Page 11
