Page 123 of When There Was You
“Grow up, Jacqui. This is how the world works.” Her tone drips condescension. “And keep your fucking mouth shut if you know what’s good for you.” She exits the restroom, her threat still hanging in the air.
If this is how the world works, I quit. I’m not rising to the top on my back or my knees. I’m getting there on ability and performance. And Tanya may be keeping Don occupied, but I know it’s only a matter of time before he corners me again.
Sixty
In April, Butch whisks me up to Washington, D.C. for the National Cherry Blossom Festival. Thousands of trees bursting with pink and white blooms line the Tidal Basin reservoir and surrounding National Mall area. I couldn’t have asked for a more glorious welcome to the nation’s capital.
The walk among the flowering trees dazzles but visiting each iconic monument fills me with awe. The Lincoln Memorial, with an enormous carving of Abe sitting in a chair overlooks the famous reflecting pool, the Washington Monument visually arresting at the opposite end. The Jefferson Memorial is an open-air rotunda featuring a bronze statue of Thomas Jefferson standing atop a pedestal, surrounded by quotes carved in marble. Our time at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial is silent and solemn as we walk the entirety of “The Wall.” It’s etched with rows upon rows of names honoring the fallen soldiers forever lost in that controversial war. Countless flowers and trinkets are placed in front of panels as remembrances.
Through it all are the trees in bloom and miles of lawngreening up now that spring has arrived. Spending time in the heart of our nation, one that carries the weight of our history, blankets me in humility.
We venture to the White House, passing poignant quotes carved into sidewalks along the way, then head to our hotel.
When we arrive at the Willard InterContinental, it’s so fancy, I worry what it’s costing my lumberjack. The palatial lobby is the epitome of elegance with huge marble pillars, inlaid ceilings, golden details, oversized ferns, and polished floors that makes the kid in me want to see how far I could skid in socks.
In the elevator, I joke, “Do you think we might be able to order canapés?”
Butch grins down at me, leaning close to my ear. “The only thing I want on the menu is holding my hand.” His eyes caress mine, looking at me like I’m priceless.
He opens the door to our room andwow. “Oh, Butch,” I murmur.
I take it all in. Spacious, stylish, and stunning. An accent wall outlines the plush king bed with a very presidential-esque headboard. An upholstered bench sits before it. I peer out the window, glimpsing the Washington Monument jutting to the sky. And the bathroom holds its own glamour with a variety of soaps and lotions I’ll peruse later—plus a ginormous tub that easily fits two.
I throw myself into Butch’s arms, tackling him against the mattress.
He grunts, then laughs. “You like it, baby?”
Exuberance dances through me. “I love it. You’re spoiling me.” I gaze into those emerald eyes I also love.
“It’s my pleasure, believe me.”
“Are you secretly wealthy? I mean, this place must cost a fortune…”
He chuckles. “I’m not a closet billionaire or anything.”
I pretend to be crestfallen. “What a shame. That’s kind of a dealbreaker.”
“Because you could get used to this?”
Laughter bubbles out of me. “Exactly that.”
Butch pulls me down to his lips and we share a languid kiss.
He lands a sharp smack on my ass, and I yelp. “Let’s clean up and eat dinner so I can have my way with you back in this bed.”
“Sounds like a plan, handsome, non-billionaire, lumberjack man,” I say before hoisting myself off him.
We take a cab to Georgetown and walk along M Street, home to a smorgasbord of restaurants and bars. A fair number of preppy college students mill the sidewalks. When we pass the Third Edition, I do a double take.
“What?” Butch asks.
“This looks familiar,” I say, staring at the facade. “Isn’t that the bar fromSt. Elmo’s Fire?”
“Didn’t see it.”
I nudge him with my elbow. “Not a Brat Pack guy?”
“More of aRambo, Red Dawn,Dirty Harrykind of guy.”
