have the election coming up next year. So”—she took a deep breath—“I’ll do it. I’ll be your perfect little political wife. I’ll stand next to you and wave and smile at all your rallies and parties. But I want this to be a real marriage, Eric. Which means I expect you to be faithful.”
Was that all? Relief swept over him so fast, he nearly keeled over. “That won’t be a problem.”
“Really? So you’re okay with no more nightclubs or semipublic encounters?”
“Ally, that history’s so ancient, it’s fossilized. My promiscuous days are long over.” He grabbed a piece of apple and bit into it, relishing its sharp, crisp flavor. “What else?”
“There’s an opening for an on-air correspondent with MSNBC’s New York office. I want it. And I know you can make it happen with one phone call.”
Well, this was an unexpected turnabout. “I thought you were perfectly capable of landing a job on your own.”
“I’ve already put in my application, but Martin keeps stalling me. He says I need another year of experience before they’ll consider moving me up. Well, I don’t want to wait another year. I’ve got a master’s in journalism from Columbia fucking University. I’m qualified for this job, and I deserve it. And if you want to marry me that badly, you’ll get it for me.”
He loved it when she turned assertive like this—and so did a certain part of his anatomy. “Consider it done.”
“Wow.” A surprised grin spread across her lips. “That was easier than I thought.”
“Did you think I’d say no?”
“Eric, you’re not exactly the kind of person other people make demands of and live to tell about it.”
“Really? I had no idea I was so intimidating.”
“Not anymore. I’ve seen through your gruff façade.”
“Thank God for that.” He rose, took her by the hand and pulled her into his arms for a deep kiss. “There’s one more thing you need to decide,” he added with a grin. “Paris or Rome for the honeymoon?”
* * *
They were married at city hall the last week of April, with Holly and Ally’s father Gabe as witnesses. Ally’s breath caught as Eric slipped the platinum band onto her finger, right above her matching engagement ring, which sported a flawless two-carat diamond solitaire. He’d taken her to Tiffany’s a couple of weeks earlier and told her to pick out whatever she liked. Her eyes had nearly popped out of her head when he’d taken out his black AMEX card to pay for it. She hadn’t had the nerve to ask how much the final bill was, but she’d caught a glimpse of at least five zeroes on the receipt he’d signed.
The judge pronounced them husband and wife, and they kissed. Ally’s father stepped up to shake Eric’s hand, Holly clapped, cried and threw rice, and Ally blushed. The entire ceremony took a grand total of fifteen minutes.
After, they all climbed into the limo and headed to the Plaza Hotel for lunch. Ally leaned her head on Eric’s shoulder and admired her rings, turning them to and fro in the light. They glittered like stars, throwing shimmery patterns over the skirt of the cream-colored Chanel suit Eric had helped her pick out. He’d bought a new suit for the occasion too, charcoal gray with a silver-and-black pinstripe tie and sleek black Bruno Magli brogues. His white rose boutonnière threaded with pink baby’s breath was a perfect match with her bouquet.
They’d barely had time to crack open the chilled bottle of Veuve Clicquot and offer up a toast before the limo pulled up in front of the Plaza. Ally took Eric’s arm and let him escort her inside, but instead of heading for the restaurant, he turned in the opposite direction and walked toward the rear of the hotel. A uniformed hotel worker flung open a set of double doors to reveal a ballroom packed with guests, all leaping to their feet and clapping as they entered.
Ally just stared, sagging against Eric’s arm. All this, for them? No, for her . Obviously Eric had
Was that all? Relief swept over him so fast, he nearly keeled over. “That won’t be a problem.”
“Really? So you’re okay with no more nightclubs or semipublic encounters?”
“Ally, that history’s so ancient, it’s fossilized. My promiscuous days are long over.” He grabbed a piece of apple and bit into it, relishing its sharp, crisp flavor. “What else?”
“There’s an opening for an on-air correspondent with MSNBC’s New York office. I want it. And I know you can make it happen with one phone call.”
Well, this was an unexpected turnabout. “I thought you were perfectly capable of landing a job on your own.”
“I’ve already put in my application, but Martin keeps stalling me. He says I need another year of experience before they’ll consider moving me up. Well, I don’t want to wait another year. I’ve got a master’s in journalism from Columbia fucking University. I’m qualified for this job, and I deserve it. And if you want to marry me that badly, you’ll get it for me.”
He loved it when she turned assertive like this—and so did a certain part of his anatomy. “Consider it done.”
“Wow.” A surprised grin spread across her lips. “That was easier than I thought.”
“Did you think I’d say no?”
“Eric, you’re not exactly the kind of person other people make demands of and live to tell about it.”
“Really? I had no idea I was so intimidating.”
“Not anymore. I’ve seen through your gruff façade.”
“Thank God for that.” He rose, took her by the hand and pulled her into his arms for a deep kiss. “There’s one more thing you need to decide,” he added with a grin. “Paris or Rome for the honeymoon?”
* * *
They were married at city hall the last week of April, with Holly and Ally’s father Gabe as witnesses. Ally’s breath caught as Eric slipped the platinum band onto her finger, right above her matching engagement ring, which sported a flawless two-carat diamond solitaire. He’d taken her to Tiffany’s a couple of weeks earlier and told her to pick out whatever she liked. Her eyes had nearly popped out of her head when he’d taken out his black AMEX card to pay for it. She hadn’t had the nerve to ask how much the final bill was, but she’d caught a glimpse of at least five zeroes on the receipt he’d signed.
The judge pronounced them husband and wife, and they kissed. Ally’s father stepped up to shake Eric’s hand, Holly clapped, cried and threw rice, and Ally blushed. The entire ceremony took a grand total of fifteen minutes.
After, they all climbed into the limo and headed to the Plaza Hotel for lunch. Ally leaned her head on Eric’s shoulder and admired her rings, turning them to and fro in the light. They glittered like stars, throwing shimmery patterns over the skirt of the cream-colored Chanel suit Eric had helped her pick out. He’d bought a new suit for the occasion too, charcoal gray with a silver-and-black pinstripe tie and sleek black Bruno Magli brogues. His white rose boutonnière threaded with pink baby’s breath was a perfect match with her bouquet.
They’d barely had time to crack open the chilled bottle of Veuve Clicquot and offer up a toast before the limo pulled up in front of the Plaza. Ally took Eric’s arm and let him escort her inside, but instead of heading for the restaurant, he turned in the opposite direction and walked toward the rear of the hotel. A uniformed hotel worker flung open a set of double doors to reveal a ballroom packed with guests, all leaping to their feet and clapping as they entered.
Ally just stared, sagging against Eric’s arm. All this, for them? No, for her . Obviously Eric had
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