Bridget walked into the Oval Office and waited for Sam to look up at her. He was slowly reading through a file, a very boring file but hey, it was his job so he wasn't complaining.
"Mr. President,"
"Hmm?"
"Invitation to Senator Allen's birthday party came."
Sam paused in his reading and looked up.
"Michael Allen?"
"Yes. Is—" Bridget cut herself off and waited for a reply.
"When?"
"May 22nd. That's usually when he has it."
"Right. Um... I think we're going to be in France that day."
"We're in France the nineteenth."
"Right." Sam fidgeted for a minute, and sighed.
"I'll tell his assistant you won't be attending." Bridget said quietly.
"Thanks Bridget. I'm going to head up to the Residence now. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Good night Mr. President."
Sam headed out of the Oval Office and out onto the portico, then walked over to the Residence. He nearly ran over Gracie, who had her nose in a book while she walked.
"Sorry." she apologized. "You're just in time for dinner. Mom's making spaghetti."
"Why is she cooking?"
"She's bored. She's been cooking ever since she came upstairs."
Sam blinked and followed Gracie into the kitchen, which smelled delicious.
"Honey, what are you doing?"
"I'm bored." Ainsley replied. She leaned up for a kiss, which Sam gave her, and turned back to the stove. "I made a cake."
"Why?"
"I'm bored."
"Again, why?"
"I don't know. Well, I think it began with me being hungry so I made... God I don't even remember what I made. While I was waiting for it to cook, I was bored so I figured that I'd read a book or something but by the time the thing was ready to eat, I didn't want it anymore so I made something else and this has been going on for about two hours so I figured I'd just cook dinner."
Sam just nodded, a wary look in his eyes. Ainsley saw this and sighed, saying, "I'm not crazy Sam."
"I-I didn't say that." he muttered. Ainsley nodded, then watched him for a few minutes. Something was wrong.
"What's wrong?"
Sam's attention snapped to his wife, who saw the surprised look in his eyes, then shook his head.
"Nothing."
"Really?"
"Yes. Why?"
"I don't know. You just looked like you had a pretty bad day."
"I'm fine."
"Okay." Ainsley turned her attention back to her food while Sam wondered how the hell she knew things without asking.
------------------TWW-----------------
"I really hate TV." Gracie announced as her show went to commercial. "I mean, if I was her and he wasn't her brother, I'd get with Hottie. Yet she's over there dating Leprechaun, who is twice her age and old enough to be her father."
Sam glanced at Ainsley over Gracie's blue and purple striped socks and waited for a reaction. Ainsley just shrugged and rubbed her neck. Sam leaned over and pushed her hand away, his hand resuming the previous's actions.
"And then on The Oval Office! UGH!" Gracie kicked a foot into the pillows, narrowly missing Sam's arm. "John and Dana finally got together after seven stinking years! Cathy and Derek got together and they weren't even supposed to get together because he's been gone for four years! So I'm thinking, hey maybe the writers aren't trying to screw me over but NO! Steve comes back and is engaged. And I'm thinking, good it must be to Ashley but NO!"
Sam leaned further over and kissed Ainsley softly. She smiled against his lips, then kissed him back. Gracie was still ranting as she rolled onto her back, then frowned, staring at her parents.
"You two weren't even listening to me."
"Yes we were." Ainsley lied. "You were saying how some guy is engaged and it isn't to some girl."
"Yeah! I mean, why does every other couple have to get together except the one I really want to get together? I mean, they had everything! The banter, the flirting, the sexual innuendos, THEY WERE EVEN WRITTEN OUT OF THE SHOW AT THE SAME TIME! Steve went to run for Congress and Ashley just disappeared. She didn't disappear! She went with Steve!"
"Gracie, I think you're overthinking this too much." Sam said.
"Shh... the show's back on." Gracie looked back to see previews from next week and groaned. "Puh-lease! Now she's marrying Leprechaun who's twice her age and old enough to be her father! Why? Why? Why! Why do the writers of these shows find it fun to screw me over?"
"Because they like seeing you get annoyed. Go to bed."
"It's only eleven."
"Grace,"
"I'm going." she sighed. She sat up, kissed each of her parents, then left the room. Ainsley looked over at Sam, who was staring at the door.
"You got that look on your face. What's going on?"
"Nothing. Don't worry about it."
"Then why do you have that look on your face?"
"I don't have any look on my face."
"Sam," Ainsley gave him a look that clearly said, 'you can't lie to me.'
"Nothing is going on. Seriously, there's not."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"So then your mood has nothing to do with the fact that Senator Allen's birthday is in a few weeks?"
"What mood and I don't know anything about that."
"You are a terrible liar."
"Think so?"
"Know so. Let me just take a wild guess and say, you told Bridget you wouldn't be attending Allen's party and ran up here."
"Ah..."
"Yeah, you don't have to say I'm right. I'll spare you that tonight." Ainsley drawled. She turned the light off and laid down. Sam sat there for a second, the light from the television flooding his pensive features.
"How do you do that?"
"Sixteen years as a mother Sam. I've picked a few things up. I know that surprises you..."
"Shush."
"You know what I think?" Ainsley reached over, her fingers finding Sam's. He glanced at her, then back at the TV, trying to pay attention to the news. "I think you need to come down here,"
"I'm not really in the mood Ainse." he muttered.
"Well good, cause neither am I. I was going to finish by saying you need to sleep."
"I'm not tired."
"Liar, liar, pants on fire," Ainsley singsonged.
"Oh real mature."
"You didn't sleep last night."
"Yes I did."
"Samuel, I'm not stupid."
"Never said you were."
"But you thought you could trick me into thinking I was."
Sam frowned, not really understanding what Ainsley was saying.
"How could I trick you into thinking you were stupid?"
"I don't know. It sounded better in my head. What's wrong and don't tell me nothing."
"It's just... you know,"
"No I don't know. I'm not a mind reader."
"Ainsley," Sam sighed, hanging his head.
"Sam,"
"I just–- I've been thinking a lot about last year."
"It's in the past so forget about it."
"Easy for you to say." Sam muttered.
"No it's not." Ainsley said, a cold tone in her voice.
"I didn't mean it like that."
"Get some sleep. We'll talk in the morning."