She winked at him. “I’m a politician’s wife—I always deflect away from the truth. Besides, we weren’t ‘talking shit’, as you say. We were merely swapping secrets.”

Wearing his usual dapper smile, James came up to me. “How are you feeling about today, Addison?”

“Great,” I lied.

“You know, it’s okay to be nervous,” he said.

“I’m glad to hear you say that, sir, because if I were to be honest, I’d say I’m very nervous.”

He gave my shoulder an encouraging pat. “You’ll do great.”

“Thank you, sir. I certainly hope so.”

After I made my way up the narrow jet stairs, I stepped inside the cabin. I couldn’t help standing stock-still and just staring at everything. Of course, that caused Barrett to bump into me. “Oof,” I muttered as I toppled over one of the leather seats and landed in a heap on the carpeted floor.

“Wow, you sure as hell aren’t graceful, are you?” Barrett asked as he pulled me to my feet.

“I would’ve been fine if you hadn’t mowed me down,” I protested as I swatted his hands away.

Once we realized our bickering had an audience, we ducked our heads and took a seat on the couch. Jane sat on the other side of Barrett while James and Bernie sat in two of the captain’s chairs. Some of the other advisors filled up the back of the cabin, along with Saundra and Everett. The jet had barely started moving down the runway when Bernie took out a piece of paper and placed it on the table in front of us.

“Here’s the game plan for today: we’re going to be mimicking the whistle-stop train tour both Reagan and Truman took of Ohio, going from Dayton down through Perrysberg with five stops along the way.”

James grunted. “Which means five speeches for me.”

Jane smiled at him. “I’ve got your cough drops in my purse, and I’ve alerted Mary Anne to ensure there’s lemon honey tea at every stop.”

“Thanks sweetheart.”

“A train tour? That’s an interesting strategy,” Barrett remarked.

“You don’t like the idea?” James asked.

Barrett shrugged. “It just seems like a waste of valuable time. I mean, we could cover more ground by plane.”

Eyeing me curiously, Senator Callahan asked, “What about you, Addison—what do you think?”

I furrowed my brows. “Me? You want my opinion?”

“Yes I do.”

Nothing like being put on the spot. “Um, well, I kinda like it.”

“Why is that?”

With everyone’s eyes on me, I exhaled a nervous breath. “To me, a train provides an air of nostalgia in our modern era. Because you need to appeal to the farmers and blue collar workers of this area, a train is much more relatable than using your private jet.”

James smiled. “Yes, those are the exact reasons.”

While I basked in his praise, Barrett stiffened beside me. “Give Addison a cookie, she got the right answer.”

Jane reached over to pat Barrett’s leg. “Don’t be petty and jealous, son. It’s unbecoming.” When I caught her eye, she winked at me.

Ignoring her comment, Barrett asked, “What would you like Saint Addison and me to do?”

I bit down on my lip to keep from telling him to quit being a petty bastard. Instead, I focused on Bernie.

“When we first exit the train, there will be roped off crowds. You’re to greet them by shaking hands and smiling. We have seats for you in the front rows during all the speeches,” Bernie replied.

“Got it,” Barrett replied.

Once we were in the air, everything became very business-like. Some of the advisors talked on cell phones and worked on their laptops. Bernie appeared extremely old school as he read print copies of several newspapers.

It was James’s actions that took me totally off guard. Taking a remote off one of the tables, he rose out of his chair, and music soon filled the jet’s cabin. It didn’t take me too long to recognize the oldies, and more specifically, it sounded like Motown. Maybe the Temptations or the Four Tops.

Barrett, who had his head buried in his iPad, turned to me and rolled his eyes. “This is the music Dad insists on using to get pumped up before a rally.”

“Really?”

“Dad’s Rocky-climbing-up-the-stairs-to-fist-bump isn’t to ‘Gonna Fly Now’, but to the Four Tops.”

“Don’t knock it. This is what I grew up on,” James argued. He extended his hand to Jane, and she smiled and rose off of the couch. She eagerly went to her husband and let him wrap his arms around her, their bodies moving in sync with the beat of the song.

Warmth flooded my heart at the sight, as well as the green-eyed monster of jealousy. As a hopeless romantic, I wanted what James and Jane had. The adoration and mutual respect was endearing, and something you rarely saw in political marriages.

An idea blossomed in my mind. “You guys should film this,” I said over the music.

“Don’t encourage them,” Barrett replied.

“I’m serious. This would be a positive way to promote yourself. I mean, you’d be hard-pressed to find someone who doesn’t appreciate music, and it shows that you’re approachable and not pretentious.”

James appeared thoughtful. “You know, that isn’t a bad idea. We could put it with a compilation of speeches and appearances along the tour.”