There Must Be a Way

“Were the circumstances different, I would wholeheartedly agree with your assessment of the situation. I want to see the humor in this. Truly, I do, but this – this isn’t funny. How can we laugh when taxpayer money is being wasted on her? She has flown on Air Force One, her accommodations are being provided by the federal government, she even has Secret Service Agents!” He let his voice rise just a bit towards the end, conveying his disbelief and utter disapproval. “She is using the money of hardworking Americans to facilitate encounters with Prince Harry, and that’s just not right. In fact, I intend to launch an inquiry into her –”

“Maldito seas (damn you)!” she cried out.

“We deserve to know what occurred during her personal trip to Buckingham Palace, because that is in fact what it was.” Senator Davis went on speaking. He had been given a prime slot on Fox News and he wasn’t about to squander the opportunity. “Because there’s just no way she was there on official business. If she had been, she would’ve accompanied President Woodbury, but instead he was fulfilling his duties while she wandered off to Buckingham Palace. Now I don’t know about you, but that just doesn’t seem right to me. As a United States Senator, she ought to have been at the President’s side, not running off to meet that Prince of hers.”

From the moment the invitation was extended, she knew the Republicans were going to tear her apart. They would’ve been stupid not to. This was their time to exact revenge for every filibuster, for every blackmail, for every single time she had publically railed against them. It was their moment to descend on her, especially for Davis. She had blackmailed him, she had made him a laughing stock within his own party, and he was taking a great deal of pleasure in her missteps.

And Paulina knew that.

Not that she could blame him. Had she been in his position, she would’ve gone on the attack as well, but the problem was that she wasn’t Senator Davis. She was the idiot who had accepted the Queen’s invitation to tea and who had made out with her former boyfriend. She couldn’t take pleasure in the situation she had placed herself in. She’d been a fucking idiot. She shouldn’t have accepted the invitation. She should’ve politely declined. The Queen would’ve understood, but Paulina hadn’t been able to refuse. She had accepted and now she was left to deal with the consequences of her actions.

Once things cooled down and people forgot about her trip to London, she would leak evidence of Davis’ homosexual extramarital affairs. The entire country would find out that he was fucking his Chief of Staff, as well as another prominent Republican Congressional staffer. They would see compromising images of Davis on his knees and on his back, and for those who would argue that the pictures were fabricated, there would even be videos. Before the year was up, Davis and his lovers would be outed. The entire country would be made aware of their hypocrisy, and Paulina wasn’t going to feel one bit of remorse. She didn’t care about their families, their positions, or their emotional wellbeing. All three men actively fought against LGBTQ community. They fundraised, they championed hateful bills aimed to strip the community of their humanity, and it was because of that that she wouldn’t feel bad about what happened after they were outed.

If anything, she wanted it done immediately. She wanted to give her contact the clear to release all the information he’d gathered, but as tempting as it was, she knew she had to hold off. At present, it would be too obvious that the damning evidence had come from her. She was the one who stood to benefit the most from his ruin. He had publically gone after her and more than that, his ruin would take the heat off her, so she had to be patient. She had to bide her time until the perfect opportunity finally presented itself.

Knowing that no good would come from continuing to watch the interview, she instead turned off the television and attempted her breathing exercises. She knew for a fact that her blood pressure was high. It had been since the kiss and she suspected it would remain so until she confessed everything to Francis, but she needed to manage it, to at least get it down towards the prehypertension range. With that goal in mind, she did her breathing exercises. She closed her eyes, cleared her mind, and focused on each inhale and exhale. When that failed, she tried tapping into childhood memories. Those were safe, at least she figured they were, Francis and Harry hadn’t been a part of her childhood, but when she remembered herself holding her replica of the Capitol, her mind naturally went to the day she was sworn in as the junior United States Senator from California. That memory wasn’t free from Francis, because while her parents held the bible on which she was being sworn in on, Francis was actually standing to her immediate right. She vividly remembered every detail of that day. She remembered the way he stared at her with pride and admiration, the way he smiled and told her that the Senate finally had its lioness. They had gone home that night and made sweet passionate love. They had gone home that night believing wholeheartedly that that was the first day of the rest of their lives, but like a fucking idiot, she had endangered all that.

Yes, she knew that he technically didn’t have a right to be mad at her. They had an arrangement after all. He could discreetly carry out his affairs, and she was entitled to do the same. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement, but she had never sought to benefit from it. Francis was it for her. She didn’t want anyone else. She didn’t fantasize about anyone else, not really. Sure, she fantasized about literary characters. She would always love Mr. Darcy and Captain Wentworth, and to be true Jamie Fraser was a hot piece of ass, but they were fantasies, she would never act on them, not even with the actors who had embodied them. She was – she had been determined to be Francis’, but her heart had conspired against her. The bit that still belonged to Harry had heard his call, it had come to life when his lips touched hers, and it had clung to him for as long as it possibly could, and Paulina knew that the feelings that had been brought up were authentic. She knew that deep down there was still love for him. She hated admitting so, but when one truly loves, when one wholeheartedly gives oneself to another, love always remains.

Not wanting to confront her feelings and unable to sleep, she instead did the only thing that always managed to soothe her. She changed into her workout gear and went downstairs to the gym, where she pushed herself to the brink of exhaustion. With every curl, with every squat, the world at large faded. There was no more Davis, no pending conversation with Francis, no unresolved feelings towards Harry. Her body was all that existed. Her mind focused on the burn, on the runner’s high that accompanied her cardio, and when she finished she was drenched in sweat and barely had enough energy to shower, but that was okay, because when she crawled under the covers, she wasn’t tortured by thoughts of Harry or Francis, she just knocked out.

Had it not been for the alarm going off, she would’ve slept through the morning. She was emotionally and physically exhausted. The last few days had taken their toll on her. She needed rest. She needed to retreat from the world for at least a day, but she didn’t have that luxury and fortunately for Paulina, her alarm served as a reminder of that. It roused her from her sleep, snatching her from her dreamless slumber.

“Fucking hell!” she cursed angrily at her alarm.

With sleep filled eyes she fumbled for her phone. It took a few good tries before she managed to get hold of it, and after she swiped right to silence the damn thing, she was bombarded by text and voicemail notifications. Most mornings she liked to lie in bed a little while, going over her correspondence. She’d reply to text messages, listen to voicemails, and go over e-mails, but she wasn’t quite up for it then. Truth be told, she was scared. She knew that if she lay there in bed, her mind would wander and letting it do so was dangerous. There was no telling where it might end up, what it might settle upon and unleash.

So she instead set upon getting ready. She ordered breakfast before attending to her morning rituals, and once that was done, she straightened her hair and styled it into an elegant updo. It was after she finished her hair that she chugged the breakfast smoothie. It wasn’t particularly filling nor did it taste all that good, but that was irrelevant. She drank it to keep her strength up. The last thing she needed was to have her stomach grumble during the funeral service.

When she finished the smoothie, she turned her attention to her face. There was a lengthy process that went into getting ready. In earlier years, a full face would have been done in ten or so minutes, but her beauty routine had been lengthened in the aftermath of her attack. She skillfully applied the various products, taking great care to minimize the scar as best she could, and when it was only faintly visible, she set down her brush and set to work on her eyebrows.

It was nearly eight when she finally deemed herself ready for public consumption. She wanted to laugh at herself for placing so much effort into her appearance, not even in America did she go through such pains. If an event was particularly important, she’d have professionals take over, but she couldn’t do that in London without raising suspicions, so she had to see to herself, she had to make herself look as beautiful as she possibly could, because while it was Prince Charles funeral, she knew very well that certain cameras would be focused exclusively on her.

“Senator Balcázar,” said Jeffrey as he knocked on the door. “The motorcade’s ready.”

Paulina had successfully kept herself from thinking about Harry. She had been so preoccupied by her appearance that her thoughts had never quite drifted towards him, but the announcement of the motorcade reminded her that within a short while, she would once again be in his presence.

Would he cause a scene?

No.

She didn’t quite think that likely. He wouldn’t do that to his father.

Would he confront her?

Absolutely.

There was no doubt in her mind that he would try to speak to her at the reception in Buckingham. The intensity with which they’d kissed had made it perfectly clear that feelings were still harbored by each of them, and while she was fully intent on suppressing them, the same couldn’t be said for Harry.

He wanted her.

It was as simple as that.

He’d lost his mother, his grandfather, now his father. He’d lost them and there was no chance in hell that he would ever get them back, but her – well, she was different. She was still breathing, after all. It was only a matter of getting through her to her, because she loved him. Of that, he had no doubt. If she didn’t love him anymore, she wouldn’t have kissed him the way she did, but his lips still burned from her touch, he could still taste her, and he was determined to have her back. He needed her. He was done with watching her from afar, done with following her political endeavors, and he was sick and tired of seeing her prancing about with Francis, because that bloody Kennedy had no business with her.

And she knew all that.

She knew Harry wanted her. She knew he despised Francis. All that had been made clear to her during their brief encounter in Buckingham. And there was a part of her that wanted to cast caution to the wind and run off with him. There was a part that wanted nothing more than to retreat to the highlands and made a life with him in some cozy little cottage, but she couldn’t do that to Francis. He didn’t deserve that.

In all the years they’d been together, he had only ever loved and treated her right. Even before they ventured into a relationship, he had always had her best interest at heart. He had always made it a point to see a smile on her face and to make her feel appreciated and protected. Not a day went by when he didn’t check in with her, even on the busy days when he didn’t quite have time to check in with his family, he always found time for her. And she knew that. She’d known it all along. She had felt his love for years. She had struggled with it out of fear of being hurt, but even before she acknowledged her feelings towards him, she’d always known of his love for her.

And yes, he did have flings with other women.

Did she hate that?

Absolutely!

He fucked other women. She didn’t know who they were or when he even found the time to fuck them, but she knew that he did. He was a Kennedy, after all. That was enough for her to know that there was someone on the side. That’s how it was with all of them, the men and women alike, but Francis never let on. He never came home smelling like another woman, there was never lipstick on his collar, there was never trace of anyone else on him, and there was never any guilt that might give him away. He was an expert in concealment. That was, after all, what she had asked of him when they became official. She agreed to his arrangement, because it made her feel like he wasn’t cheating, but while she had agreed to it, she also put in a condition of her own – he had to hide it so well that she would never suspect. She didn’t want to know who it was, where they fucked, when they met, or anything. She wanted to be oblivious, because if she was ignorant, then it wasn’t really happening.

It was absurd.

More than that, it was stupid of her.

A younger version of herself would surely tell her off and call her an idiot for looking the other way, especially after she’d flipped out on Harry, but as ridiculous as it was, she loved Francis. She loved him and she knew that there was no point in trying to change him. That would only increase the headaches and heartaches. They were better off the way they were, because monogamy might not have been his strong suit, but he was fiercely faithful where it mattered. No one talked shit about Paulin in front of him because they knew there was no winning an argument with Francis, even when he didn’t agree with her policy positions, he still championed her position. Did they disagree in private? Of course, but they were always a united public front. Her ambitions and aspirations were his as well. He had set aside his own political ambitions in order to ensure that hers were accomplished, and as a member of such a prominent political family, there was no greater show of love. He had been raised to be a prolific Senator. His father had advised him against a run for the presidency, but Francis still had his eyes on it and he wanted to one day hold that office, but he was willing to sacrifice in order to ensure Paulina’s happiness. He willingly bore the insults that the Right slung at him, and that people from his side of the aisle did as well, because he was constantly mocked.

In some circles in Washington he was referred to as Mr. Balcázar. Francis knew that. Paulina knew that. She had even mentioned that perhaps it might be a good idea to run for the Senate in Massachusetts, that an open seat would easily be made available, but to that Francis had told her that his place was with her. And he meant it. He didn’t resent her. He didn’t regret his decision not to run for the Senate. He enjoyed his position as Assistant Attorney General for the United States Department of Justice Antitrust Division, but most of all, he loved the fact that after so many years of patiently waiting, he finally had a life with her – a home. That was what mattered most to him. He might’ve fucked other women, but he didn’t love them. He didn’t look at them the way he did Paulina, he didn’t care about them, he didn’t want to know about their day and he most certainly didn’t make an effort to keep them happy. He had them sign nondisclosure agreements, he fucked them, and when the time came, he ended things, because there was no future with them. He didn’t want one. They were just a little fun.

And if he was to be entirely honest, the encounters were becoming less and less frequent. One day, he hoped to stop them altogether. Not that Paulina knew that. She just knew there was an agreement, and she kept her word, she never brought up the others when they argued, she never asked accusatory questions, she never tried to dig, because they were genuinely happy in their lives. They were working towards the future that they both wanted so much. The Senate was hers. It would be for at least ten years longer. They planned on getting married, they would do so at the Los Angeles Cathedral, and then there would be a honeymoon in Ireland. There would ideally be three children, although Francis wanted as many as Paulina was willing to have. Then there would be a bid for the Presidency, and if that worked out, she would ideally serve two terms before retiring from politics. They would relocate to Massachusetts, and depending on whether the governorship or the Senate seat was up for grabs, Francis would run. It was there that things got a bit tricky. In her heart, Paulina hoped he would be content to be governor and then spend the rest of his life as a Senator, because she was afraid of his running for President. Not because she wanted to be the only one to hold the office, but because Kennedys and the presidency don’t do all that well together. President Kennedy had been assassinated. Bobby Kennedy had been assassinated during the primaries. Ted Kennedy had to wear bullet proof vests during his 1980s bid for the presidency due to so many assassination threats. But if Francis wanted to be President, Paulina would support him, because she loved him.

Her heart sank with guilt at the thought of all that.

Only a few days before her trip they were talking about how it might be time to make things official and how it was pretty much the best time to have a baby, because she’d just won reelection and she had five years before she had to go through another campaign, so . . .

“Are you alright in there, Senator?” Jeffrey once again spoke up.

She couldn’t do it. She didn’t want to do it. She had no business at the funeral and she most certainly didn’t belong at the reception in Buckingham. What she needed to do was to put as much distance between herself and Harry, because if she could cross the Atlantic then everything would be compartmentalized and she would think about him a few times a month, but that’d be okay, she could manage that. She could drink her coffee or her whiskey and wonder what life might’ve been like, but she would be happy with Francis. She would have the life she had always dreamed of with him and she would love him and he would love her, and everything would be okay if she could just leave, because she was terrified of what might happen if she was left alone with Harry.

What if she wasn’t strong enough to resist?

What if she gave in and allowed her passions to run wild?

What if she did run off with him?

All those thoughts suddenly rushed her and her eyes went wide in panic. She couldn’t go out. She needed to go home before she did anything stupid. She needed to –

“Ma’am.” Jeffrey spoke more forcefully. “The President is scheduled to leave his suite in five minutes and you have to be waiting for him in the lobby.”

Mentioning the President was enough to snap from her thoughts. She couldn’t let her mind and heart run wild. She was there as a Congressional delegate, not only representing herself or her constituents, but the entire American government and its people. She couldn’t dishonor them by cowering. She had a duty to them, and it had to be honored. So she took in a deep breath, rallied every bit of courage she had left, and when she felt ready, she pushed her shoulders back and reached for the door.

“Sorry about that,” she apologized, looking every bit the calm and confident Senator the world knew so well. “I couldn’t find my clutch.”