Presidential Pursuit: A Kamala Harris lesbian love story

Chapter 20

Being escorted to the hotel felt kind of embarrassing. Luckily, there weren't many people around. Sophia did a good job of picking somewhere beautiful but remote. Still, the faces that caught a glimpse of the cavalry couldn't help but search for the cause of such commotion. When they found her walking in the middle, I could see their eyes light up with a mix of confusion and awe. Imagine you're on vacation and the President of the United States randomly passes by. Shit, I'd be fucking confused too. They'd look to me next, and then I could really see the confusion sink in—no husband in sight, just a random girl. No, "random" would be better—for a second, I forgot a lot of people already knew my face. This wasn't helping the allegations whatsoever. The imaginary ridicule I kept hearing in my head was enough to make me quicken my pace. I started speed-walking a couple of feet ahead of her until I reached the front desk.

"Hi, good afternoon, checking in for Emily Fields," I said quickly while anxiously tapping my fingers on the register.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Fields! Could I get your confirmation cod—" Her eyes widened, and I saw her face drop for a second before she regained her professionalism.

Goddammit, I should've ran to the desk. I could tell Kamala caught up, judging by the woman's face. I knew she wanted to address her, but luckily, kept talking to me instead. I gave her the code, and she handed me the room key along with a few pamphlets I'd probably throw out at the first sight of a garbage can. Why do they even hand those out?

I worked my way through the hotel, still making sure to walk a few steps ahead, and found the elevators. It took way too long to open. I wanted to get in first and close the doors on her, but that didn't happen, and in the meantime, we just looked at each other a few times awkwardly. Stepping inside, accompanied by two of the agents, I pressed the button to my floor and noticed she didn't do the same.

"Where do you think you're going?" I said, clasping my hands resting them on my stomach while staring straight ahead.

"Where else?"

I turned to look at her with bewilderment. "No, I have a room; you're not staying with me."

"And why not?"

The doors opened, and I gave her a look that said, "You know damn well."

"Get your own room," I said, strutting out and making sure to sway my hips.

She didn't follow me, thank God. Not only would she try something again, but I actually had work to do. Maid of honor is a full-time job, and although Sophia relieved me of most of the duties, I wanted to be there for her on the day. There were still a few minor details to sort, and today was the last day to do them. No time for the Kamala dramala. I dropped off my bags, took a quick shower, and headed toward the penthouse suite.

"EMMY!!" she exclaimed as soon as I walked through the door, throwing herself into the mandatory hug and knocking the wind out of me.

"Hi, Sophia, oh my God, please get off."

"Rude. I'm getting married, you know."

"How could I ever forget? You text me about it every day." I said with a low chuckle followed by an eye roll.

"How's it going? How can I help?"

She began moving toward the couch, and I followed.

"Well, it's all pretty much ready. David's been so helpful. I just need you to pass by the church sometime today and make sure none of the flowers fell off the pews." She handed me a set of keys. "I have a feeling the guy doing it did it like his asshole."

I laughed at the expression. Nobody talked like that in Washington; it was refreshing. I missed the crassness of New York.

"Yeah, I gotchu."