It apparently wasn't an overreaction to something if the fact that Kate doesn't see him again until dinner on Sunday night is any indication. At breakfast Alexis tells her that he still wasn't home when she went to bed and that she only saw him for a minute that morning.
"He looked tired," the girl informs her with a frown.
Kate feels bad for him; there really is no such thing as a vacation for the President.
She spends the morning exploring the trails the way she didn't get a chance to the day before and ends up at the horse stables. She turns down the offer for a ride but does brush one of them out, a bay colored stallion named Super that stands perfectly still while she performs the task. He butts his muzzle against her arm when she's completed and she takes it as a thank you.
She grabs some lunch from Laurel Lodge and takes it back to her cabin, eats it on the back deck and then settles into the book she brought with her, grateful for the chance to do something so mundane, so familiar. She loses track of time as she absorbs the words and only comes back to herself when her leg starts to tingle from falling asleep. Raising her arms high over to head, she stretches to pull out the tension in her spine. Dinner will be soon and she doesn't want to miss the festivities planned for tonight. Kate and some of the other guests are staying until Tuesday (Rick and Alexis included) but most of the people on site are heading home tomorrow so they're having a big party, dinner followed by a movie in the theatre at Hickory Lodge.
But she's going to be late if she doesn't get moving.
She arrives about five minutes before dinner is going to be served, late by her standards. Her eyes roam the tables, noting the lack of remaining seats. There's one over by the Bracken's but she's not sure she can stomach a whole dinner of the Senator flashing his fake smile and making sure he has her vote in November. There's an open chair near Don and Judy and that's an appealing option; she liked the teacher, had a good conversation with her while the kids were swimming on Saturday afternoon. She starts that way when she hears her name, Alexis's excited lilt carrying to her ears. The girl is waving her arms in the same manner she had to get her attention at breakfast yesterday morning and Kate laughs, shaking her head at the girl's antics.
She swings by Judy on her way, requests, "Don't give away that chair."
"I don't think I have to."
Kate shoots her a confused look but will ask her about that in a minute. She knows that she should at least say hello to Alexis. And Rick.
"I saved you a seat!" Alexis exclaims as Kate draws near. "I told everyone they can't sit here because this is just for Kate!" She beams up at her and Kate has the urge to drop a kiss to her forehead, ruffle her hair. It's just so adorable the way she's so proud of herself.
Ah, so that's what Judy meant. Everyone knew this seat was for her.
Wait, everyone knew this seat was for her. And what did that make them think? Rick's been saying all along that Kate is Alexis's guest but people have to have seen her and Rick together. At breakfast, at the skeet range, flirting with each other over the grill on Friday night. It makes her instantly self-conscious, intensely worried about what conclusions people are drawing.
She sits gingerly, takes longer than necessary smoothing her skirt over her knees before turning to her dinner companions. "Thank you, Alexis." The girl seems oblivious to the stiff nature of her speech, just smiles again before picking up her napkin and spreading it over her lap. She chances a look up at Rick and finds him looking at her adoringly, his eyes crinkled again in that smile she only seems to see when he looks at her. He can't do that. He can't be doing that here where all of these people can see. Can't be doing that when the photographer is here to capture the President in casual moments.
"Hi." His voice is rich and warm and she wants to close her eyes as it washes over but she resists.
"Hi." Her voice is flat, her smile tightlipped and brief. She diverts her attention to the salad that's placed in front of her but she doesn't miss his crestfallen look.
They have to tone this down. Until they can talk about it, they just have to.
Dinner is lovely, grilled chicken and vegetables, a seemingly simple dish that is done with loads of flavor. Desert is a raspberry sorbet made at the Camp and when the bright berry flavor bursts over Kate's tongue, she has to clamp her lips shut to keep from moaning in delight. Coffees are passed around and Kate requests the vanilla syrup that she's been using in the morning, the server happy to comply as she shares that it's also her favorite.
Everyone is invited over to Hickory Lodge for the movie, a fleet of golf carts out front to escort them. Kate would usually walk but Alexis drags her over to one and indicates that they should sit on the back bench, squealing when Rick tries to climb in the front.
"No, Daddy! This is the girl cart! Boys can't ride on it." She's very serious as she informs of this, pointing to the young woman behind the wheel and Kate has to stifle her laughter behind a hand.
"Fine, I don't want to be on your stinky girl cart anyway," he retorts. Kate can no longer contain how funny this exchange is and bursts into giggles. Rick breaks out in a smile aimed directly at her, obviously pleased to have brought this out of her.
She straightens up, schools her face and tries not to encourage him. "You heard the lady," she calls to the driver. "Girl cart only, let's go!"
"Yeah!" Alexis yells, starting up the chant of "Girls rule, boys drool!" as they take off. In a bout of childishness, Kate joins her chant and they're in breathless giggles by the time they arrive.
They enter Hickory hand in hand and Alexis directs her to the theater. Kate finds it cozy, more like a multi-tiered living room with the sofas and oversized bean bags laying about. They pick out a deep, comfortable looking sofa and Alexis launches herself at an end cushion.
"Hey, scoot over," Kate admonishes.
"You can sit in the middle."
"I think your dad would rather sit next to you, kid."
The girl shrugs. "He likes you too, you know."
Kate's heart stutters in her chest at the nonchalant way she says it. She can't really mean it the way that Kate's interpreting it, can she? She's bright but she's just a kid, surely the intricacies of adult relationships are not something that she understands this well.
Then again, she's perfectly cognizant of her mother's selfishness.
"Alexis, please move." She says it soft but firm, aware of the people filling the theatre now and trying not to get into an argument with the girl.
For a long moment, Alexis looks at her with a defiance that Kate wasn't sure she possessed. So Kate switches her tactic, lets the fear and uneasiness she feels about being scrutinized by all these people show, allows some desperation to wash over her face. There's a beat and then Alexis sighs and moves to the center cushion, Kate sagging into the spot she vacated.
"He does though," Kate hears her mutter, some of that defiance bleeding into her words.
"Alexis." She tries to use the kid's name as a warning but it loses some of its bite when a whine sneaks into the last syllable. Kate reaches out and takes the girl's small hand in hers, waits until Alexis turns cold, blue eyes on her. "Not here, okay?"
The girl sags, the fight releasing from her. "Okay," she nods, a small hopeful smile on her face and Kate swallows, tries desperately to smile reassuringly in return.
It's a challenge though because this has just made the whole thing worse. Now she has the pressure of possibly letting both of them down. Of not being what they need. Of not being what they want.
Watching a kid's movie with kids is a completely new experience for Kate. She's seen The Parent Trap before, was impressed at how they managed to make Lindsey Lohan actually seem like two different actresses but she never realized how funny it was. The kids in the room laugh at all the right parts and their amusement makes her chuckle right along with them.
Afterwards, the kids are escorted to bed by the Camp staff while the adults make their way up to the bar for some social time. Kate initially dreads it, doesn't want a repeat of Friday night's awkward small talk but it seems that everyone is ready to let loose and leave politics behind for a night. She gets in a friendly argument about the merits of Russian literature with Judy's husband Don and Judy herself updates Kate on everything that's happening on Temptation Lane, Kate's favorite trashy soap opera. A deck of cards are brought out and a heated game of poker starts. She thinks it best to stay out of that, let the men's egos remain intact for the night but Sara, the Ohio senator's wife, doesn't feel the same and Kate watches from a barstool as she destroys all of them.
Everything breaks up after that, the men grumbling about the injustice of losing to a woman as their wives pat their backs sympathetically and laugh when they're not looking. Kate says her good byes, embracing and hand shaking and then settles in one of the booths along the wall, watching everyone file out. She was just going to sit down for a moment, clear her head of the wine she's been consuming before trying to make it back to her cabin but she's really comfortable here and before she knows it, she and Rick are the only ones remaining. And now it looks like she was waiting for him when that's not what she was doing at all and that fear of what this all looks like washes over her again.
He smiles at her, wide and easy, when he sees her slumped in the booth. He reaches over the bar to grab another beer, pops the cap, and heads over to her. Instead of sliding across from her, he snags a chair from the poker table and sets it the end of the table, uses the other bench as a foot rest. It puts him closer to her, makes his eyes unavoidable, the strip of his chest that's visible between the open top buttons of his shirt extremely tempting. She sits a little straighter, takes another sip of her wine to wet her suddenly dry throat.
"So," he starts and for a heart stopping second she thinks he's going to bring it up. That he's going to start this conversation now when she's tipsy on wine and barely able to get her thoughts in a straight line. "Are you having a good time this weekend?"
She breathes out a sigh of relief that he raises an eyebrow at him but she answers before he can say anything further. "Yeah, it's been great. I'll have to thank Alexis for the invitation." She's not sure what comes over her, why she starts the teasing but the blush that creeps up his neck is worth it.
"Yeah, uh, I might have suggested it to her," he confesses, scratching at the back of his neck.
"It was a good suggestion, thank you," she says softly, smiling at his honesty. The air is heavy for a moment and then she clears her throat, desperate for a topic change. "So skeet shooting in college, huh?"
It works and he launches into the story of how he actually got into it in boarding school as a teenager and that segues into sharing stories from all phases of their lives. She tells him about her "Rebel Becks" phase and he admits that he wrote a novel while in college but never thought he could make a living at writing. She tells him about her semester in Kiev and he talks about the wonder of becoming a father.
"I do have one regret," she admits, a soft chuckle falling from her lips as he leans forward in interest. "I wish I could have actually become a detective. Not that I regret my decision to come here," she's quick to interject, "but I just think that helping families get some closure would have been rewarding."
He hums understanding and takes a swallow of his beer, the work of his throat invoking a tightening in her chest.
"What about you, any regrets?" she asks.
He sighs wistfully, a faraway look on his face. "One. I had a girlfriend in college, Kyra. I should have followed her when she went to London. But I knew that it would set back my career. And I don't think she wanted me to come. But sometimes I wonder if I'm wrong about that part." He shakes his head free of the melancholy and turns to her.
She arches an eyebrow at him. "Your regret is a woman?"
"Yes!" He bristles, defensive. "Why shouldn't it be? Everyone knows how terrible my relationship with my wife was, why can't I regret the one that got away that could have been amazing?"
"No, no, no," she placates, holding out a hand. "I'm just surprised. I thought it would have something to do with a campaign decision. I didn't expect your answer to be so…human."
His eyes drop away and he swipes his beer off the table to take a swig, pointedly avoids looking at her. It occurs to her that she's hit a button but she's not sure what it is.
"I am human," he mutters quietly. "I'm more than this office. I thought you've seen past that. But I'm just 'Mr. President.' At best, I'm Alexis's dad." He flicks his eyes to her and the disappointment swirling in his irises wipes her mind of any retort that was forming.
"I thought we could at least be friends." The last word comes out on a sneer, making it obvious that he believes they're so clearly beyond that point. "It's impossible to make friends in DC, exponentially so when you're the President and everyone puts you on a fucking pedestal. When you came into our lives, you were a breath of fresh air. You made my daughter smile again, a real smile, not that false front that she's been putting on for me for years so she thought I wouldn't worry about her. You talk to me like I'm real, you call me out on my bullshit in a way so few people have the courage to and I let myself believe you were different. But when it comes down to it, I'm just Mr. President and you're no different than any of them." He laughs, a breathless, mirthless thing. "And it's a goddamn shame. I could use a friend. And I suspect you could, too."
She's speechless. He's right, she could use a friend and she wanted – wants- the possibility to explore something more. But he's also right that she's been using his job as a barrier between them, has used it as an excuse to not see him as approachable and real. Used it to justify her fear that she could be the reason this would fall apart.
Right now though, she's having no problem seeing him at all, the raw guts of him blatantly on display. His wounds and pain are her fault, her problem to fix. She moves to speak, an apology on the tip of her tongue when he pushes away from the table, the scrape of the chair on the floor impossibly loud.
"I'm going to bed." He moves swiftly for the door.
"Rick."
He freezes, the hand at his side flexing and then squeezing into a fist. She holds her breath, waits for him to turn. But then he's back in motion and out the door, slamming it behind him with a thundering crack.
"I'm sorry," she whispers to the empty room.
A/N: Eternal thanks to Lou.
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