“Just remember one simple thing: If you never date a poor man, you never risk falling in love with him.”

I think on that sentence and roll it around in my head for quite a while. Mom gets up and puts the nail polish away before starting dinner. Once Dad gets home from work, we all sit down and eat. Sitting next to him, I really study his features like I did with Mom earlier. The same wear and tear is evident on his body as well. He works a labor-intensive job doing construction. Business isn’t always steady and he often works long hours to compensate for when work is slow. I catch Mom glancing at him throughout dinner. It’s evident she loves him just by the way her eyes warm when she sees him. But today, she almost looks sad, as if it pains her to love him so much.

After dinner is cleaned up, I retreat to my bedroom and flop down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. I can hear my parents’ hushed voices down the hall from my room. Getting up from my bed, I walk to my door and listen.

“I can’t put in any more overtime, Lisa. I’ve worked seventy hours this week as it is.”

“I know. I just don’t know how we’re going to pay this water bill. We’re already two months behind.”

“Why didn’t you pay it last month?”

“Because it was either the water or electricity. We couldn’t pay both and I decided electricity was more important.”

Walking away from my door, I return to my bed and lay in it like before.

I learn a valuable lesson today.

Marry for money.

Because in the end, love doesn’t pay the bills.

Present ...

GLANCING AROUND AT the audience in front of me, a small, confident smile grazes my lips as I listen to my husband give his speech. My eyes travel back to where he’s standing at the podium in his perfectly pressed suit standing tall, the audience eating up every word he says. I’m not really paying attention to what he’s saying, of course, I’ve heard him rehearse this speech a million times before. It’s the same one he gives any time he needs support from a large group of people; mainly, his constituents.

“That’s why, with your help, I know we can get the American people working and send a message to Washington that we mean business,” my husband says as he finishes up. The crowd cheers excitedly, all of them believing in him. Each person in the crowd having faith that Cal can help turn this disastrous economy around and get them back to work. I smoothly rise from my chair as I applaud him and walk to his side. He wraps his arm around me, gives me a chaste kiss on the cheek, and I smile up at him. The faint sounds of shutters clicking from the cameramen in the front row registers in my ears. Turning away from my husband, smile still firmly in place, I wave at the crowd taking in all the “Clean up America” and “Callahan Fitzgerald 2016” signs.

2016.

Seems there are a few who want Cal to run for president. I know his advisors have been running the numbers to see if he’s a viable candidate, but he hasn’t mentioned it to me. Of course, he usually doesn’t until a decision has been made. The thought of him running for president makes me cringe slightly. Senatorial elections are tiring enough, I can’t imagine what his schedule will be like when he’s having to tour the country. Plus, there will be the added pressure to keep up appearances twenty-four/seven for the public, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to do that.

I’m snapped out of my thoughts when I feel Cal lean into my ear and say, “You ready to get out of here?”

“I’m ready when you are.” Cal’s warm gaze travels all over my face before guiding me off, his hand on the small of my back. At the bottom of the stairs, we’re met by Cal’s chief advisor, Aaron.

“Great speech, Cal.” Aaron claps him on the back a few times as we walk toward the Town Car waiting for us.

“Thanks. Do you think it’ll affect the polls any?” The driver of the Town Car spots us and opens the back door. Cal gently guides me in before shutting the door and continuing his conversation with Aaron without me. Early in our relationship, I didn’t take his unwillingness to include me in his business matters personally. Now that we’ve been married for a while, it pisses me off. Internally, I’m fuming that Cal feels like he can’t talk about this stuff in front of me, but on the outside I’m poised and calm, waiting for him to join me. He does this often, but I think it’s just the way he was raised and I have no choice but to accept it.

Soon, the door is opened and Cal slides into his seat before the driver gets into his up front. He gives me a smile and plants a small kiss on my lips. Returning his smile, I place my hand in his as the car starts to move.

“I know I’ve been working a lot lately, but I’m all yours tonight,” he says to me with a warm smile.

“That sounds ama—” I’m cut off by the ringing of his phone. Pulling it out of his jacket pocket, he looks at the screen and sighs.

“I’m sorry, love, but I have to take this.” He looks apologetic and I give him a reassuring smile before he slides his finger across the screen to accept the call. “Fitzgerald here,” he says into the receiver.

My attention turns to look through the window as I watch the buildings pass by. It won’t be long until the buildings are replaced by trees and we’ll almost be home.

“No, that’s fine. We’ll go over it all first thing in the morning to see if we have enough votes to pass the bill. If we don’t, then we’ll throw in some extras to sweeten the pot for those who are on the fence.”

Cal, always the strategist.

Bringing my gaze back to him, I look at our hands that are still joined, his thumb slowly gliding over the back of my hand. I’ve always marveled at how soft his hands are. They’re the hands of a man who has never done hard labor, hands that have only seen the inside of a desk and grasped nothing larger or heavier than a pen. Hands that are used to the finer things in life. Hands my mother would approve of.

Lifting my eyes up to his face, I study his profile. He’s a handsome man in the stereotypical well-bred kind of way. His face is angular and masculine with dark-brown eyes and brown hair with a reddish tint with some gray at the temples. There’s a slight age difference between us. I’m twenty-nine to his thirty-six. It certainly doesn’t bother me, but Cal made a comment in passing about him looking like he could be my father when the gray started coming in. I suggested coloring it if it bothered him, but that idea was quickly shot down by Aaron. Apparently, graying was a good thing. It makes him look older, wiser, and more trustworthy to his constituents, so the gray stayed. Everything has a strategy. It’s actually quite ridiculous.

“Alright, bye.” Cal hangs up and turns toward me. “Sorry about that. I’m all yours now.”

“That’s okay, I understand.”

“You’re always so understanding. What do you say when we get home, we have a glass of wine and I’ll run you a bath?”

“That sounds lovely.” Leaning in, I place a small kiss to the corner of his mouth, causing him to smile. We spend the rest of the way in a comfortable silence. Something that has become the norm in our marriage.

Our home is located outside of our nation’s capital in McLean, Virginia. The house is incredible, and as a child I couldn’t fathom living in such a spacious and extravagant place. But, as I got older, it became a goal of mine. A goal that was nurtured and encouraged by my mother.

As we travel through the massive wrought-iron fence and up the long driveway lined in trees, the house—more like mansion—comes in to view. The circular driveway comes around to the front of the house, and the first thing that stands out are the four large columns that are the height of the two story home. The pillars give off a plantation feel and hold up a balcony that extends off the roof. There are a dozen or so windows adorning the front, which let in a lot of natural light. White brick dresses the entire home and is set off by a gray roof and a bright-red door. It’s the type of home I always dreamed of when I was younger; a home I never thought was actually obtainable. The lawn is manicured to precision with perfectly-pruned shrubs and gorgeous flowers framing the walkway leading up to the door. Inside, there are seven large bedrooms upstairs, each having its own bathroom. The master suite is located in a separate wing that connects to the side of the house.