PROLOGUE
Blair
The kitchen fills with the irresistible scent of sugar, and a smile spreads across my face as the oven timer dings. The aroma envelops me as I open the oven, immersing myself in the baking process. The soft baked goodness, with its perfect golden-brown edges, is my favorite sight. The anticipation of its perfect consistency is almost palpable, and I can’t wait to taste it.
Next to running, baking is one of my favorite hobbies and brings me the most happiness. It’s also the only one I’m allowed to do often. Running, however, is a process of getting out the door and one of the many obstacles I face as a well-known politician’s wife. The constant need for security—a reminder of my responsibilities—is a challenge I have to navigate every time I step out.
Experimenting with new recipes I find online keeps me busy since the days feel so long while he’s in meetings for the better part of his days. Most nights are even longer when he’s taken away for work or sleeps in his office because he needs to be there early in the morning.
But that’s part of the job, right?
Sighing, I place the tray of cookies on top of the stove whilethese thoughts flood my mind. Resting my hands on the counter next to the sink, I let my head fall. I haven’t seen Theodore since early yesterday morning. The longing for his presence is a constant ache in my heart.
I miss my husband.
Based on our phone call earlier this morning, he plans to be in the office all day, which is why I’m baking his favorite cookies to bring to his office as an excuse to see him.
Even years later, I still find myself trying to adjust to this life since he was elected, despite having lived this lifestyle since I was young. I grew up the daughter of a powerful politician, so it should have been an easy transition. But it’s much more complicated when you’re actually in the spotlight at events. Something I was not used to as a child but have grown used to as a twenty-nine-year-old wife.
My sister, living in an apartment complex down the block from me, helps when I feel like I might go stir-crazy from loneliness.
Today is one of those days.
Unfortunately, Kodi is in meetings all day for her job.
Inhaling the smell of the oatmeal cookies once more, I pause, noticing a piece of dog hair on my sleeve. I roll my eyes but can’t help the smile on my face.
Reginald.
I take a step away from the oven to avoid getting any small piece of corgi hair anywhere near the cookies before brushing any other pieces lingering along the fabric. When Theodore first proposed getting a dog to keep me company, I didn’t love the idea because of our busy work schedule.
While I don’t hold a traditional job, I've earned a substantial income through endorsements and television appearances outside of attending all events with my husband. These appearances typically revolve around sharing insights into my life as the well-known mayor’s wife. It’s enough to bring in extra money and gives me something I like doing. Something to keepme busy, hence being skeptical about bringing a dog into our home.
But that wasn’t the only reason I was against it.
I want a baby and to start a family with the love of my life.
Theodore wasn’t ready for that part of life as his career was just getting started. Because I love him as much as I do, I agreed to the dog because I felt it was the next best thing. Now I have a fluffy corgi that leaves hair on every black article of clothing I have. But has also brought so much joy into my life. I’d take the hair every day of my life knowing I have a mini best friend to spend my days with.
Making my way back to the oven, I remove the cookies from the baking sheet and transfer them to a cooling rack. I lift one up, fumbling it between my fingers while blowing on it to cool it down. Taste testing is the best part, and waiting for them to cool down is impossible when they look this good. My eyes roll the moment the flavor hits my tongue.
Perfection.
The perfect consistency of gooey goodness.
Removing my apron, I brush my black pencil skirt down and make sure there’s no other dog hair lingering. Most people don’t bake in an outfit like this, but since I will be heading into city hall soon, I wanted to ensure I was ready so the cookies are as fresh as they could be.
Grabbing my keys from the counter, the jingle of them sends Reginald running into the kitchen. His mouth is open and somewhat resembles a smile, making me laugh every time he looks at me.
“You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” I squat down to rub the top of his head. “Mommy needs to go see Daddy at work and bring him these cookies.”
His ears perk up at the use of the word.
I give myself a mental facepalm, smiling as I realize what I’ve just done. I accidentally started calling his treats cookies when hewas a puppy. Now he gets overly excited when he hears me talk about them.
“Fine. I’ll give you one of your cookies,” I tell him, reaching into the jar on the counter to grab one before I toss it to him. He catches it in the air without missing before running off to his bed, clearly satisfied with his treat.
Standing and righting my skirt, I take the opportunity to grab my handbag and basket of cookies and rush out the door to avoid him barking at me.
