Page 3 of Campaign Season
“Even if I want to deck assholes like Ron Marion?”
“Even then.”
“I don’t want you to hold back because of me, Candace. I mean it. You?—”
Candace silenced her with a kiss.
“Candace, I know you?—”
“Stop. Listen.” Candace held Jameson’s gaze. “I don’t know what’s ahead for me politically. But I do know this: whatever comes, you’ll be part of it. Together. That’s how I see us. Always.”
Jameson’s eyes glistened.
“Trust me when I say I love you for wanting to defend me. But what I need most from you is what you already are—my best friend. That’s what I fell in love with first,” Candace said. “Swear at the television all you want, but don’t let the critics live in your head. Let me live rent-free in theirs—it drives them crazier.” She leaned in and kissed Jameson tenderly.
“I never want to disappoint you,” Jameson whispered.
“We’ll frustrate each other. We’ll disagree. But disappoint me? That’s not in your future.”
Jameson nodded. “Mm. I don’t know. I hear you about the idiots who make you their target. I just… I want to protect you.”
“I know. And you do—by being the one I can tell everything to. That’s what protects me most.”
“Mm-hm. Sounds like you’re giving me the easier assignment,” Jameson said.
“No. Loving me isn’t easy.”
Jameson smiled. “Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done, Candace.”
Candace’s throat tightened. “And my life?”
“I know who you are,” Jameson replied. “I’ve never liked politics.”
Candace’s eyelids fluttered closed.
“Not because I don’t see the value,” Jameson continued. “Because it brings out the worst in people at times. People make politics a weapon—a way to judge others, even the people closest to them. I also know you see it differently—you want to be part of making our politics better. I see it every day. And before you say something, let me finish.”
Candace nodded.
“It would take more than a jackass politician, cable host, or even an Act of Congress to get me to run away, Candace. The only way that will ever happen is if you give me walking papers.”
Candace’s lips curved into a slow smile, her eyes softening as she reached for Jameson’s hand. “Then I guess you’re stuck with me.”
Jameson squeezed back. “Gladly.”
Present Day
Sometimes it feels as if it all happened only yesterday—the first raw glimpse I had into Candace’s world, into the bruises and burdens of public life. I didn’t like politics then, and I still don’t, but I have never once doubted the woman who wades into it with both fire and grace.
Candace is right. Loving her may be easy, but loving the life she leads can be hard. Even back then, I sensed she was destined for the White House. Her becoming president ensured that our lives would never be “normal” again, not even after her time in office ends. One day, the glare of the spotlight will dim. One day, the brightness—often unforgiving—will soften. We both know that.
Lately, though, I’ve sensed a shift in her. It’s a conflict she doesn’t name, but I can feel it all the same—like she’s looking ahead to that quieter day more often than she used to. As much as I look forward to it, too, my role now is to remind her why she’s the right person to lead this country. Why we need her to believe that, myself included.
She tells me I have the hardest job, that the pressure on our family is unfair. But not one of our children would agree. They are proof of what anchors us—what makes this path we’vechosen more than just politics. I’ll keep reminding her of that truth every day until she believes it again.
Because Candace Reid is not just my wife; she is the president of the United States. And I won't let her forget that she is the best person for this moment—for the future—and that we’re in it together, always.
Chapter
