Out of the corner of my eye, I checked my reflection in the glass panel on the left of the hallway. I wasn’t going to fool anyone even with this classic black dress and matching stilettos. I’d been to the hairdresser in the afternoon to have my curls professionally tamed into a conservative bun, but the color still looked too brash, fake, even if, I swear, I wasn’t a bottle blond.

No matter if I spent my hard-earned cash, I still looked like a Midwestern gal trying too hard.

“Can I help you, madam?” I’d never been at the receiving end of a ‘madam’ before. Either I’d aged prematurely or my makeover was paying off. I smiled at the receptionist and asked for directions. I wasn’t directed, I was escorted to an elevator and then down a grand corridor to a double paneled door guarded by two dark-suited guys with little plugs in their ears. I’d noticed a few more Men in Black on my way up.

“Your invitation please Ma’am?” one of them asked.

Was the Secret Service entertaining here tonight or what? Well, it was Washington D.C. after all. Josh had asked me to bring proof of ID and I understood why now

The room I stepped into was far bigger than I’d expected. It was a ballroom topped by a dome with golden decorations all over the ceiling. Between that and the glasses of champagne circling around me, I was already feeling a little tipsy. I grabbed the first cup of bubbly I could get my hands on. That way I had something in my hand when I started my quest for Josh.

The average age of the crowd was north of forty. Or fifty. I must have looked straight out of kindergarten next to all these silver foxes. I zigzagged between the dozens of guests, loneliness starting to creep inside me. But I caught sight of that bitch Megan, and then my eyes settled on Josh. Jealousy bubbled from within. What were they doing together? I looked for something to throw at the girl—something yucky and sticky—but found nothing.

I calmed down because they weren’t actually talking to each other but listening to an older man whose face was familiar. I wasn’t into politics but I watched TV and I was pretty certain I’d seen him before. Josh’s six foot two frame hovered over the man who was speaking, but his composure was one of respect. There was no way I was going to butt in, so I hid in a corner and tried to make my champagne last.

It wasn’t right though. I’d come here to learn about Josh’s world and going all anti-social now wasn’t going to make it. I forced myself to crack a smile at some neighboring guests. They smiled back so I stepped into their little group and tried to follow what they were talking about. The next education bill or something. I prayed nobody was going to ask my opinion. Because I had none.

From where I stood, I couldn’t miss how Megan stole some hungry sideway glances at my man. But he wasn’t looking back at her. Ha-ha! Meanwhile, the politician was taking his sweet time and I was getting bored.

“Mrs. MacBride?” and then another “Mrs. MacBride?” Finally the voice reached me and I turned around. It took me a couple of seconds to place the guy’s face.

“Hi! You’re Peter…?”

“Peter Hewitt.”

“Nice to see you again.” Not really, but it was Washington and I was here for Josh. Hewitt had Estevez’s ear.

Peter took two glasses of champagne from a passing tray and handed one to me, while taking my empty glass away. Two brews was my weekly quota for booze, so this was dangerous territory for me.

He nodded at the older man opposite Josh. “Senator Leland Van Ark,” he said. I answered with an arched eyebrow, so he explained, “He’s the Senate Majority Leader.”

I kept myself from whistling. Not really the place.

“And the pretty girl next to your husband is—”

“Megan Alistair. We’ve already been introduced. She’s an old friend from Georgetown.”

Hewitt took a sip of his bubbly and the next words hissed through his lips. “I see.”

I shifted my body so that I could face him straight on. “And what do you see exactly, Peter?”

“Joshua MacBride is a smart man. He operates openly enough so that the women in his life don’t suspect anything underhanded is going on.”

“You’re so full of shit.”

“Tsk-tsk, Mrs. MacBride, you’re betraying your roots. The Langford is hardly a honkytonk.”

“And what are my roots? Do tell me, Mr. Hewitt.” I wasn’t going to point a rifle at this guy, but if my words were bullets, he’d look like a slice of Swiss cheese by now.

“The same as Joshua’s, and that’s why the outcome of your marriage is a foregone conclusion.”

I couldn’t help asking. “Why?”

“Because ambition is the engine behind your husband’s success, not love, although...” he tilted his head sideways as if conceding a point, “… he’s very good at this young family man charade. Voters love that and he knows it.”

I wanted to break this asshole’s nose. “Get out of my sight.”

He raised his glass and turned. I watched him walk away and looked for where his salute had been directed.

“I told you to avoid Hewitt,” Josh cut in. His jaw was locked.

“Good evening to you too! Long time no see.”

“He’s a snake.”

“And Megan Alistair is a cow, but here you are being all chummy with her.” I knocked down half of my glass for some Dutch courage to face Josh’s polar gaze.

“I wasn’t chummy with her. She introduced me to Senator—”

“—Van thingy, I know, Leader of the free world and beyond. Your friend Hewitt gave me a briefing.” Another gulp of champagne. “How does your ex know him anyway? They’re not exactly the same level on the food chain.”

“He’s her godfather.”

The champagne went down the wrong way and I coughed. Thank God I managed not to spit out anything, but I wasn’t getting any help from my beloved. He just kept looking at me. When I’d recovered, he added: “She’s the one who invited me tonight. I didn’t want to accept but she suggested you come along too.”

Of course, the girl was smart enough not to piss off the wife while making her way into the husband’s good books.

“Should I go and say Thank You then? Or maybe I should write her a card?”

Josh made a point of ignoring my sarcasm. “You said you wanted to know my world. So here we are. You can’t get much closer to it than this.” He waved a hand at the crowd, in their tuxedos and designer dresses.

I waited for Josh to comment on how I looked. It’d been all for him, for him to be proud of me, but he didn’t say anything. Instead he nodded at some guests passing by. It was as if there was a wall of ice between us.

After several long minutes passed with me fidgeting in my corner, he finally asked, “Don’t go mental but Megan invited us to spend the weekend in the Hamptons. She’s having friends over. I told her we probably wouldn’t come but I wanted to ask you first. You’ve never been.”

I’d never been anywhere really but, hell, I was going to look like a loser. “I won’t be able to go anyway. I mean, I don’t think I will.”

“Why?”

“I’ve been asked to go to L.A. to record a duet with Shawn.”

“And what’s keeping you from accepting?” His question fell between us like an axe.

“You said we should take those decisions together as a family, so I told Shawn I’d check with you first.”

“That’s very considerate of you.”

I, for one, didn’t miss his sarcasm. I dropped my glass onto a passing tray and turned to face him with the room behind me. “Cut the attitude, MacBride. You’re angry about what happened in Steep Hill. I get it. You’re angry with me because I went all cowboy on your father, but I know you’re even angrier with yourself. Because more than anything, you hate losing control.”

Ten days apart and I’d had plenty of time to chew on what happened.

Josh threw several glances over my shoulder. “Watch your tone, Cass. We’re not in—”

“—in a honkytonk. I know. Hewitt already gave me the low-down.”