First Lady

by Blayne Cooper

  The tent was well lit with dozens of tall, ribbon-wrapped, honey-scented candles, their sweet scent mingling with hundreds of delicate white roses. It was also darker inside the tent than Lauren had expected, a testament to the storm that still shook the canvas sides of the tent with every great gust of wind.

  She could see Devlyn across the tent, flanked by two very proud parents, her pale eyes flicking from person to person as she awaited her cue to begin down the aisle. Somehow, at that exact moment, Devlyn’s head slowly turned, and the women’s eyes met and held for a long moment.

  The President’s gown wasn’t in the least bit “poofy.” It was similar in style to Lauren’s, but was the color of warm desert sand. It had a fitted bodice, crepe skirt, and draping chiffon sleeves that hung gently over her slim wrists. Her train was longer than the younger woman’s and the fine, amazingly detailed embroidery that covered the bodice was stitched in pale gold thread.

  Lauren admired her lover. She was more than a little star struck with Devlyn, who appeared nothing short of regal, and she couldn’t help but laugh at herself for it. She actually lifted her hand to her mouth to make sure that it was closed and she wasn’t drooling. How, she wondered gratefully, had she ever gotten so lucky as to end up here… on the verge of getting everything she’d ever dreamed of… even though she hadn’t known it? Amazing.

  Neither woman could keep from grinning wildly. Both their hearts were pounding, but more from anticipation than fear.

  This was it.

  Above the steady patter of rain on canvas came the gentle strains of a string quartet situated near the front of the tent, and suddenly she was walking down the aisle without feeling her feet touch the ground. Then she was standing next to Devlyn, who grasped her hand with a sure, firm grip. She let out a slightly shaky breath, feeling much better in the company of her tall friend.

  Dev smiled appreciatively at Lauren and whispered, “Fancy meeting you here.”

  Lauren squeezed Dev’s hand, her lips curling upward. “Don’t tell me you were expecting someone else?” she whispered back, as Devlyn’s parents took their seats in the front row and the children found their places next to David, Beth and the minister.

  There were a few seconds of silence as the minister, a friendly looking young man who Devlyn suspected was barely old enough to drive, looked over his notes. Or maybe I’m just getting really, really old, she mused privately, making a mental note to ask her mother what Boy Scout pack the older woman had borrowed this boy from.

  “Dearly beloved—”

  “Wait!”

  The band stopped playing.

  A hundred pairs of eyes swung to the far right, rear side of the tent and landed on a short, chubby woman with a head of short, white hair.

  Everyone on Devlyn’s side of the family closed their eyes and moaned silently, and Michael Oaks collapsed into a chair, looking as though he might burst into tears.

  “Devlyn?” Lauren questioned from the side of her mouth, her voice barely audible.

  “Lord, help us. It’s Aunt Myrtle,” she explained, tempted to sick an agent on the old woman.

  Myrtle stood up, clutching her enormous handbag. After the Secret Service forced her to allow them to search it, she refused to put it down for fear it would be stolen. “What’s going on here?” the old woman asked, clearly confused.

  “Hi, Aunt Myrtle, ” Aaron piped up cheerfully. “This is the wedding.”

  “Shhh!!” Christopher and Ashley scolded simultaneously, their voices managing to carry all the way to the back of the tent. “No talking or we won’t get cake later!”

  Aaron’s eyes widened and he clamped his mouth shut. Aunt Myrtle would have to figure things out for herself. Nobody was getting between him and a four-foot cake. Nobody.

  “Why are these women dressed as if Robin Hood is going to burst into this tent and save them?” Myrtle looked down at the guest in the seat next to her, who happened to be Howard Strayer.

  “Don’t ask me,” he said a little defensively. “Like I understand. I’m a plumber.”

  Janet stood up and quickly scrambled towards Myrtle. “Carry on, carry on,” she said, waving at the minister. “Don’t mind us.”

  “How can you carry on without a groom?” Myrtle asked reasonably.

  “You aren’t the only one who’s wondering that,” Howard muttered under his breath.

  “Myrtle,” Janet warned, thinking that Frank really should have disclosed a list of all his insane relatives before she’d agreed to marry him.

  “What the hell kind of messed-up wedding is this?” Myrtle continued, not worried one bit that she had interrupted the entire ceremony. “Why is that other woman standing so close to Devlyn? Did the groom stand poor Devlyn up?” She scanned the audience for the dastardly coward, ready to hit him with her purse.

  “Aunt Myrtle,” Devlyn suddenly said, trying to muster more patience than she knew she had. Myrtle never could figure out who Samantha was and why she kept appearing at Marlowe family functions. Then when she found out she had the name “Marlowe” she surmised that Janet and Frank had secretly adopted her, and no one could convince her otherwise. “There is no man, Myrtle. Remember how we’ve talked about this before?” She turned to Lauren and mouthed “Sorry.”

  Lauren only smiled and shrugged. There was no need to explain crazy relatives to a Southerner. They were to be expected.

  Myrtle made a sour face and addressed Devlyn as though she were an errant child. “I always told you that men couldn’t stand tall, mouthy women.” She waggled a gnarled finger at her great niece. “Now look what’s happened! You’ve been stood up at the altar.”

  Lauren and Beth snorted loudly, unable to contain themselves any longer.

  Dev tilted her head skyward and whimpered. Then she addressed God. “This is because I was secretly considering raising taxes, isn’t it?”

  “Don’t you tell me to be quiet, Janet Marlowe,” Myrtle complained, her voice drowning out Devlyn’s conversation with the Divine. “Is this how you treat your guests? Why, not half an hour ago I was molested by that handsome young man in the black suit.” She motioned at a Secret Service agent. “He made me open my purse!”

  Janet fought hard not to roll her eyes. “I know, Myrtle. I know,” she soothed.

  “Do you suppose he’s single?” Myrtle asked, sincerely. “Devlyn’s gonna be an old maid soon, if you’re not careful. People will talk.”

  Most of the guests were laughing now, and the minister was looking so flustered at the unexpected interruption that Devlyn wasn’t sure he would be able to speak when the time came. She leaned down and pressed her lips to Lauren’s ear. “You didn’t think this would be a normal wedding, did you?”

  A laugh bubbled up from Lauren.

  “Would you still love me if we skipped over the singing, poetry, and praying and got right to the vows and the kissing?” There was a hint of pleading in Devlyn’s voice.

  The shorter woman lifted a sassy eyebrow, but smiled warmly, her eyes conveying her true feelings. “What do you think, Devlyn?” she whispered back.

  Devlyn drew in a deep breath and turned slightly to address their guests. “Well, folks, it looks like despite the fact that I’ve been stood up at the altar…” she paused as everyone laughed, “my heart will mend.”

  Any remaining tension in the room fell away when everyone realized that neither Devlyn nor Lauren were going to have Myrtle shot for the interruption. Then their wedding guests leaned forward a little in their seats as they sensed that the wedding was about to begin. All except Myrtle, that is, who had been drafted by the two agents and taken outside under two large umbrellas to hunt for Devlyn’s errant groom.

  Devlyn wound her arm around Lauren’s and pulled her closer. “Okay, Reverend.” A genuine grin split her face. Despite everything, this was the shaping up to be the best day of her life. “Make me the happiest woman on earth. And this time,” her voice dropped a register, causing the young man to blink a few times and the a
udience to lean even further forward in their seats, “don’t stop until she’s mine in every sense of the word.” She turned and looked deeply into Lauren’s eyes, her own eyes filling with sparkling, unshed tears. “Forever.”

  There was a soft chorus of “awwwwws” from their friends and family that caused Devlyn’s cheeks to flush pink, but there was no doubting the solid truth of her words.

  The younger woman could only hoarsely repeat the sentiment, barely getting the words out around the lump that had grown in her throat.

  Many years later, after a lifetime of conversation, Lauren Strayer would still recall Devlyn’s words from this day as the single most romantic thing she’d ever heard. And they were all hers.

  It wasn’t a perfect wedding, but it was theirs… and they were keeping it.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  JULY

  Friday, July 1, 2022

  DEVLYN YAWNED AS SHE wrapped a protective arm around Lauren’s waist. She was grateful for the relative seclusion of the cabin as she and Lauren wove their way between the deep puddles on the tree-lined path. The reception had gone on much longer than either she or Lauren would have liked. But its purpose was to honor their newly blessed marriage. It was so rare and wonderful to have all their friends and family in one place that they endured the endless toasts and raucous, familial chatter with a dose of good humor and several longing looks towards each other and the door.

  Those same heavy-lidded looks, in fact, along with sweet, stolen kisses and hour after hour of casually intimate touches had left the women aching for some peaceful time alone together. David had assured her that, for what little remained of their wedding night, come hell or high water she and Lauren would be left alone. Devlyn knew that promise only went so far, but for the time being the world seemed to be letting them have their special day. She smiled as she put her hand on the front door’s knob and felt Lauren’s hand come to rest directly on her bottom. “Madam, I might remind you that we still have eyes upon us.”

  “Like I care about those agents and their night-vision goggles.” She turned her head and stuck her tongue out just to be ornery, then tilted her head back and yawned, observing the now clear night sky. “They’re lucky I don’t throw you down on this porch and have my way with you.”

  Dev smirked, knowing full well that most of the Secret Service and a healthy number of FBI and CIA agents had crushes on her wife. “Somehow I doubt they’ll consider you controlling yourself to be their good fortune.” She turned to regard her companion. “Too much to drink, Boris?”

  “Eh…” Lauren wiggled her hand back and forth. “Close, Natasha.”

  Devlyn sniggered as the hand on her rear began to slowly move up and down.

  “Devlyn, just get the door open.” Her voice was a low growl. “Ugh! If one more mosquito bites me, I’m going to get malaria!”

  “I thought you liked it in the woods, ” Dev said.

  Devlyn poked out her lower lip, and Lauren was tempted to grab it. The blonde sniggered loudly. “I like it everywhere. But I like to sleep in the cabin. Big difference.”

  “Mmm… True.” Devlyn opened the door and took a step backward to stand behind Lauren. She gestured for Lauren to enter by placing her hand on the small of the shorter woman’s back and pushing slightly. “Our honeymoon suite awaits.”

  “Tsk, you mean you’re not going to carry me over the threshold?” Lauren teased, already moving forward.

  “If you insist.”

  “Wh—!” Lauren’s squeal rang out into the night.

  Before Lauren could stop her, Devlyn swept her off her feet and carried her into the cabin, managing to muffle a groan when she turned and kicked the cabin door closed. She set a very surprised Lauren down and tried not to look too pleased with herself. Which was exceedingly difficult. She crossed her arms and waited for her reward.

  “Wow.” Lauren said, clearly impressed. “That was nuts, Dev. Did anyone ever tell you you’re pretty strong for a middle-aged desk jockey?” She reached out to squeeze Devlyn’s biceps, all the while emitting a low whistle.

  Devlyn bared her teeth in a false smile and slapped away her hands. “I am not middle-aged,” she said, straightening her back and throwing her chest out, much to Lauren’s delight. “I plan on living to be at least 107, which means—”

  “Stop.” The blonde woman held up her hand. “Don’t do the math. I’m too tired to think about math.”

  They both laughed softly and leaned against the cabin door, the wood feeling cool against their hot skin. The rain had stopped sometime during the reception, ushering in a wave of thick, muggy air that the air-conditioner had to work hard to repel. Candles, already burning low, had been lit and placed along the banister leading to the loft and around the fireplace in the main room. They emitted a soft, golden glow and sweet, vanilla scent.

  Devlyn turned to face her new bride, her expression serious. She slowly ran her knuckles over Lauren’s cheek. “I love you.”

  Lauren smiled, a little amazed at the fluttering in the pit of her stomach that Devlyn could incite with one touch, or look, or sultry whisper. “You know,” she said thoughtfully, as though she’d just had the revelation that very second, “I really love you, too.”

  Dev’s smile reached her eyes, and she kissed her partner on the cheek and then turned her toward the living room.

  “This is beautiful.” Lauren shook her head a little as she took it all in. “Your folks?”

  “No, as I understand it,” Dev paused to remove her shoes, tossing them next to the door, “Beth and David did this. I did the same thing when they used this place for their honeymoon.” Dev’s gaze bounced around the room, then her eyes narrowed. “Only I was thoughtful enough to provide cold beer.”

  “Oh no, you don’t.” Lauren groaned and moved to the sofa, settling down heavily as she struggled out of her own shoes. “One more toast after dinner and I would have ended up face down in the punch bowl. I stopped just in time, though I’m still a little buzzed,” she admitted. “Lord knows, I don’t want to be drunk on my wedding night.” She left off the word “again,” surmising that was more information than Devlyn really wanted to know. She covered her face with her hands and spared a thought for her first wedding night, now seeing what she thought was ordinary wedding jitters with very different eyes. What a moron I was.

  “Ahhh.” Devlyn found an ice bucket loaded with bottled water. “I knew you weren’t my best friend for nothing, David,” she murmured as she grabbed two bottles.

  Lauren wiggled her sore feet. “God, I’m tired.”

  “Even I feel tired after today, and I gave up sleep for Lent last year.” Dev handed over a cold bottle of water. “Why don’t you go take a nice hot shower and change into something more comfortable?” She eyed Lauren from top to bottom and her voice softened as she said, “Though I’ve never seen any woman look more beautiful than you did today, Lauren.”

  Gray eyes sparkled with appreciation as Lauren returned the favor, happily giving her mate the once over. “I think you know I feel the same way.” The blonde drained her glass and handed the empty bottle back with a grin. “How about we go to bed now and do something that will require a shower later?”

  Devlyn laughed low in her throat and extended her hand, suppressing another yawn with her other hand. She pulled Lauren into a long hug, allowing herself to revel in a moment of pure happiness.

  Finally, Lauren gently pulled back enough to lay her palms against Dev’s upper chest, feeling the other woman draw in a slow, deep breath. “If you’re too tired…?” she whispered.

  Dev’s eyes popped open. She could hear the smile in Lauren’s voice, and she blinked hard, feeling disoriented. Then she recalled what Lauren had said. “No! Not on your life!” Devin cupped Lauren’s warm cheek and spoke against soft lips as she kissed her. “But, honey, I’m inching towards middle age as we speak. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  Bathed in soft moonlight, they lay together on the bed, nude. Sheets an
d blankets lay crumpled on the floor as they traded slow, deep kisses. Two sets of smooth, damp legs were tangled tightly together, tingling skin being caressed with each shift of their bodies. They’d been kissing for so long that they’d lost track of the time, their bodies thrumming lightly with excitement.

  Without warning, Devlyn rolled Lauren on top of her. The blonde’s head swam, and she suddenly felt a little queasy. Even in the faint light, Devlyn detected the change in her coloring and pinned her with concerned eyes. “Lauren,” she said quietly, sinking her hands deeply into Lauren’s hair and tilting the younger woman’s chin up just a fraction so that she could look into her eyes. “Are you okay?”

  “Ugh.” Lauren grimaced. “I drank at least a bottle of champagne tonight, sweetheart. Gymnastics are so out for the evening.” Her body shook with Devlyn’s soft laughter. “Can we do this without spinning, please?”

  Dev smiled fondly and used the tips of her index finger to lovingly trace pale eyebrows. “We can. But we can just go to sleep.” She leaned upward and softly bussed Lauren’s chin. “If you’re too tired.”

  “Are you?” Lauren asked, half-hoping Devlyn would say yes. She was exhausted and that, in combination with the alcohol and food, had her yearning to crawl underneath the covers and sleep for a week. Problem was she also wanted to kiss and lick every square inch of the beautiful body beneath her. She was well past the point of no return and this was their wedding night.

  “No,” Devlyn answered quickly, looking for any sign that Lauren might want to put this off. There was no doubting how aroused she was, but the bed was so soft and even the moonlight seemed too bright for tired eyes.

  A genuine smile twitched at Lauren’s lips for a split second before she captured Devlyn’s mouth in a delicious, wet kiss.

  Devlyn let out a soft, encouraging moan, forgetting all about being sleepy and reveling in the sensation of naked skin beneath her fingertips and Lauren’s soft, warm tongue against her own.