“Huh?” Dev looked at him as though he was crazy.
“No.” He shook his head briskly, feeling incredibly awkward. “What I meant to say is, if something should happen to you… and I don’t think it’s going to, mind you. But on the horrible chance that it did, Beth and I were to get custody. Now…” He looked away, his teeth busily gnawing at his long mustache.
“I haven’t talked to Lauren about this yet. But she would be their mother just as I am.” Dev’s tone had cooled considerably. “I would want her to have custody, of course. And you and Beth would be in line in the unlikely event that something happened to both Lauren and me.”
David stared at the bright flag behind Dev’s desk. “I see.”
Dev’s eyes softened, and she set her cup on the coffee table. “David—”
“It’s okay.” He felt a little angry at himself for even asking. “I was just wondering.”
“You know that I think you and Beth would be wonderful parents. I know you love the kids and are prepared to take them if necessary. But—”
“I know.” He waved her off, not wanting to press it further. At least not today. But he couldn’t help but add, “I do have a special interest in the munchkins.” His gaze strayed to the photo of Lauren and the kids displayed proudly on Dev’s desk, and a tendril of envy threatened him.
Dev’s chest began to tighten. What was happening here? “Do you want to tell the kids, David?”
“No!” David’s eyes widened and he nearly shot up off the sofa, before he realized he was right on the verge of overreacting. “No,” he repeated again as he sat back. “We had an agreement, Devlyn. I intend to stick to it.” His grip on his cup tightened. “Unless it’s a matter of medical necessity, we won’t tell the kids I’m their… father, donor, whatever. Being Uncle David is quite sufficient. Beth and I just don’t want to lose them from our lives.”
Dev relaxed a little but still felt unsettled. She managed to give David a slightly scolding look. “You know better than that, David. I keep my promises, too. You’ll never be out of their lives. No matter what.”
“What does Lauren have to say about this?” He finally turned to face Devlyn.
Dev blinked stupidly. “I… well… I don’t know.”
“Huh?”
“She doesn’t know about you being the father.”
“Shit, Dev!” David nearly spilled his coffee. “Are you insane?”
Dev wrinkled her face in dismay. “It hasn’t come up. And this was something we agreed to keep between ourselves.” She was starting to get annoyed. “God, until you mentioned it just now, I hadn’t even thought of it in years, David. Besides, we did this long before I even met Lauren. She loves the children and she thinks you and Beth walk on water. I’m sure she’ll find the entire arrangement perfectly logical,” Dev pronounced firmly, her voice exuding confidence.
“I’m sure she’ll think you didn’t trust her enough to tell her,” David corrected. “Samantha put up with that crap, let you decide what was important enough to share and what wasn’t, make all the big decisions. I doubt that Lauren will.”
“It wasn’t like that, and you know it, ” Dev snapped, her eyes flashing a warning to David. He was going too far. But now a tiny part of Dev was beginning to worry about Lauren’s reaction. “We’ll talk about it eventually, and the rest is a private matter between us.”
Wisely, David backed off. Neither one spoke for few moments as they intentionally allowed their tempers to cool. He tapped the rim of his mug as an old memory flashed behind his eyes. “Do you remember what Beth’s first question was?”
“You mean when Samantha and I told her we wanted you to be the donor?” She relaxed into her seat again.
David nodded. “That’s the one.”
Dev tilted her head back and looked at the sculpted ceiling. She would have to explain this to Lauren, too, no doubt. “She wanted to know if we were going to sleep together.”
Dev’s chief of staff smiled a bittersweet smile at the memory of that very intense, very emotion-filled late night talk. “And of course that was right on the heels of your so-called ‘rebellious period’ where you got a motorcycle just because.”
“I was never very good at being rebellious,” Dev conceded ruefully.
“No,” David smiled in remembrance, “you weren’t. Except for the way you feel about women, you’ve always played by the rules, Devil.”
“And those rules are changing.” The pride in her voice was unmistakable. In a single generation so much had changed about the public’s attitudes towards homosexuals. And she knew it was largely due to people like her, who lived their lives the way their hearts told them was right and somehow achieved their dreams in spite of people’s petty prejudices.
“When you drove up on that motorcycle, Beth thought you had lost your mind. Then you come to her asking for a sperm donation.”
“I’m surprised she didn’t try to have me committed. I was scared to death to ride the silly thing but too embarrassed to admit it to Samantha, so I did it anyway. I was young and stupid.” She spared a wistful smile for her younger self. “But I knew I wanted a family sometime. And those little suckers hold up pretty well in the freezer.” She gave him a nudge with his shoulder and he laughed quietly.
“I think she always felt a little odd about me having children with two other women.” He took another sip of coffee, deciding Dev didn’t need to know that he and Beth had been trying unsuccessfully to have their own for the past several years. Some things were too private even for the closest of friends. “Then she was there when Chris was born and those doubts seemed to disappear. I mean, she loves Ashley and has since the day she was born, but when she actually got to be the first person to hold him… I could have fathered a dozen children for you and she wouldn’t have cared.”
Dev fingered the slightly scratchy material of her navy, wool trousers. “I couldn’t be the first to hold him. I’m glad it was Beth. She was really there for me and Samantha that night.”
A knock on the door interrupted their trip down memory lane. “Come in.”
Liza took a step into the office, trying not to yawn. It was nearly 8 at night. “Michael Oaks to see you, Madam President.”
Dev and David traded unhappy looks. “Thank you, Liza. Please tell him to come in.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Liza began to back out.
“And, Liza?”
She stopped dead in her tracks, her attention riveted on Dev. “Ma’am?”
“Go home.”
For once, she didn’t argue. “Thank you, Madam President. Good night. And goodnight to you, Mr. McMillian.”
“Night,” David and Dev chorused.
Liza waved Michael Oaks in and he closed the door behind himself before issuing a polite greeting. Young, ambitious, and disgustingly good at his job, Social Secretary Michael Oaks was one of the least popular members of Devlyn’s staff.
“Madam President, David, good evening.” He hesitated for a moment as he forced himself to say her name. “Strayer was supposed to fax me a copy of the guest list for the wedding and she hasn’t done it yet.”
Dev bit her lips to keep from taking his head off over his attitude towards Lauren. To put it simply, her lover and Michael hated each other and not even the President could end the little, though continuous, war between them. He was, Dev decided, just annoyingly anal, persnickety, and pompous. All qualities that didn’t mix well with Lauren… or anyone else who would stand up to the arrogant man.
“Mike,” Devlyn called him Mike because it annoyed him the same way his distaste for Lauren annoyed her, “she’s only been in Ohio for two days. This trip is mostly a vacation. Give her a break, will you? Besides, my mother hasn’t even gotten the first draft of the list done yet, and I’ll bet 50 bucks she’s still adding people to it.”
Michael scratched the side of his neatly coifed Afro, a gesture both Dev and David recognized as one he made only when he was frustrated beyond words. They both suppressed g
rins.
He puffed out his slender chest. “Ma’am, I really need that report.”
Dev rolled her eyes. “First, it’s not a report. It’s a guest list for our wedding. And who will be there for the most important day of my life is important to me. So I’m not rushing anybody when it comes to it. Second,” she got up and walked slowly toward him, her posture and tone sending out a strong warning, “You will address the future First Lady as Ms. Strayer unless she gives you permission to do otherwise. Understand?”
“I don’t think Lauren would give it either, do you, Dev?” David asked blithely.
“No. I don’t think she would. You’ll get the list when you get it.”
Michael squared his shoulders and replanted his feet, intending to stand his ground, even if it was just a little. When was the President going to realize he really did know what was best in these matters? Leaving important details to her flamboyant mother and bitchy fiancée was a recipe for disaster. “Ma’am, you don’t understand—”
Before another word could escape his lips, David sprang off the couch. “Excuse me, Michael. What part of ‘you’ll get it when you get it’ didn’t you understand?”
Michael fought the urge to take a step backwards. “Sir?”
“The President’s statement was crystal clear.”
Michael sighed inwardly. He was a man who believed in picking his battles. And he’d just decided that he wasn’t going to pick this one. He knew his appointment more than three years ago to the then Governor of Ohio had been a political favor. But sometimes being a Republican in an Emancipation Party administration that was very Democrat friendly was more than he could bear. He felt like a noble among liberal peasants.
“I’m sorry, David,” Michael began. “But we don’t have much time to put this wedding together, and the more time that’s frivolously—”
David grabbed Michael by the arm of his perfectly pressed, gray suit and escorted him to the door. Dev had managed to rush around them both to open the door. She was afraid that David might send Michael right through it without bothering with that small detail. What had gotten into him tonight? “Out. Get out!” He let go of Michael’s arm and gave him a little shove when it appeared his feet were glued to the ground.
David pointed at Michael as he spoke to Jane. “If he tries to get back in here, have security shoot him. The President is busy for the rest of the night.”
Jane nodded and gave Michael a dirty look before making a shooing motion to send him on his way, watching as he gave his suit coat an indignant tug and stomped away.
That young man is trouble, Jane thought, as she rose and clicked off her desk lamp. The door to the President’s office slammed and she wondered what had riled the usually gentle David McMillian. “The Ides of March are upon us,” she said ominously as she retrieved her coat and began to walk down the darkened hallway.
* * *
Thursday, March 10, 2022
A SINGLE DARK EYEBROW jumped as Dev watched her father line up his putt. She looked to David with an evil expression that caused her friend to shake his head emphatically. Her grin grew wider and, in turn, David shook his head even more frantically. “No!” he mouthed silently.
Just as her father ended his abbreviated swing, she sighed loudly. The ball missed the cup by two inches, and Frank turned around to bestow a murderous glare on his only child. “Not nice, Devil.”
“I did nothing,” she protested, raising her hands in innocence.
“Right,” her father grumbled as he stepped back and allowed David to prepare his shot.
“Sheesh, don’t blame me if you’re not good at golf.” Dev plucked a bottle of water from the golf cart and took a healthy drink. “I was just standing here behaving myself.”
“Uh huh.” He sneered a little as she handed him the water. “You know, by my calculations, you’re about 30 over par.”
“Hush.” She looked aghast that he would bring up such a thing. “I don’t know why you drag me out for this. You know I’m not any good.”
“You can’t be good at everything, sweetheart.” He smiled as Dev scowled. “This keeps you honest.”
“Hell, I’m not good at a lot of things,” David chimed in as he plucked his ball from the cup. “Just ask Beth.”
Dev moved over to her ball, which was just on this side of the green, and for several seconds regarded the putt she knew she would never make.
Just as her club made contact with the ball, Frank asked loudly, “So when are you and Lauren planning children?”
The ball rolled well off the putting green, then down a steep slope. “Shit.” She glanced up at her father. “What? Have you been talking to Aaron?”
“Of course. He is my favorite grandson,” Frank reminded her reproachfully. “Along with Christopher, my other favorite grandson.”
Dev huffed as she retrieved her ball, sticking it into the pocket of her pants. “I am not shooting it again.” She marched over to the cart and took a seat.
Frank chuckled as he sank the putt he had missed. “Watch it, Dev. The press will get a picture of you pouting.”
“I don’t care,” she answered as she crossed her arms over her chest, grateful that the First Minister had begged off today and wasn’t around to witness her humiliation first hand. Of course it would be in all the papers in the morning. She groaned inwardly.
David and Frank both burst out laughing as they climbed in the cart and headed to the next hole, with a small caravan of press and Secret Service following just out of earshot.
Dev glanced sideways at her father, who was driving. “Why did you ask that?”
“Seemed like a logical question, Devil. I know you always wanted lots of kids. And I wasn’t aware that that had changed.”
Dev examined her putter with exaggerated interest. “Yeah, well, I’m not sure Lauren wants lots of kids. I think she thinks that the three we have are plenty.”
David shifted uncomfortably, wishing he wasn’t here for this particular conversation.
“You haven’t talked about it?” Frank asked, his tone more surprised than scolding.
“No.” She set down her putter and began picking at a clump of dirt attached to one of her cleats. “Why not, Devlyn?” comes next.
“Why not, Devlyn?”
She looked at him sharply, annoyance written clearly on her face. Then she glanced back at David, who pulled his golf cap down over his eyes.
“Dad, sometimes, when you love someone, you just go with what you’ve got.”
“Bullshit.” He looked at her sternly. “You never know until you ask. Your mother and I didn’t raise you to run away from things.”
“Dad…” she warned.
“No, now listen to me, Devil. You’re not going to be President forever; you’re going to go back to at least a semi-private life eventually. Why should you give up on the things that you’ve wanted your entire life because you’re marrying Lauren?”
“Because that’s how equitable partnerships go, Dad.”
“Don’t lecture me about partnerships, young lady. I’ve been married for over 42 years.”
“Yes, sir.” Devlyn was instantly contrite.
Frank sighed and patted Dev’s leg. “I don’t mean to push, honey. I just hate to see you abandon something that was important to you without even trying for it.”
Dev resisted rolling her eyes. “We have three kids. I’m sure that is plenty for Lauren.”
“Or are you just afraid of what her answer will be if you do ask?”
Dev groaned. “You’re like a dog with a bone.”
Frank let out a low growl, and David chuckled despite himself.
“God,” she dropped her face in her hands. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a pain?”
“Yes. Several times,” he answered as he slowed the cart and then turned towards her and pinned her with intense eyes. “I nearly lost you last year. All I could do was sit back and watch you recover from being shot. I watched you. I watched Lauren. An
d I could see it then, the way you two were falling for each other. The way she worried about you. Then I looked at my grandchildren.” He swallowed hard and took her hand. “Sam’s death was hard enough for all of us. Losing you would have…” He stopped and shook his head. “Just make sure you talk to Lauren. I want you and Lauren both to have everything you want in life, sweetheart.”
She nodded, trying to understand what he was saying. “We’ll talk, Dad. I promise. But no guarantees.”
“Of course not.” He lifted his chin a little, pushing back the morbid thoughts. “Deciding to stop with the wonderful grandbabies I have now is one thing. But let it be a decision you both make. Give Lauren enough credit to at least include her in it.” He pressed the gas pedal on the cart, and they began to buzz along again. The air smelled fresh and cool, tinged with the green scent of wet grass. “Besides, I think Lauren would make really cute babies.”
“Hey, what about me?” Dev blurted. “I make pretty good looking kids too, ya know.”
“Yeah,” David sat up straight now, finally willing to wade into the conversation. “But you’re getting a little long in the tooth there, Dev. It won’t be long before you go through ‘the change.’”
She snatched the cap her father was wearing, which only served to complete his hideous golfing outfit of blue-and-green plaid pants and a pink shirt, and beat David with it, knowing that cameras behind them were probably clicking madly, but not caring a bit. “You are so fired.”
David grabbed the hat and grinned. “So what’s new?” He gently placed the cap back on Frank’s head. “You’re going to have to do better than that before I get worried.”
The cart stopped and they climbed out. As they picked their drivers, Frank placed his hand on Dev’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I know I sound like I’m butting in, a task I usually and very happily leave to your mother.”
“It’s okay, Dad, truly.” Devlyn knew her father had wanted more children but that her birth had been exceptionally difficult on her mother, who was warned that another childbirth would be life-threatening.
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