Partners

“Am I married this time?” I asked the Chief.

“Yes, you and Dylan will be posing as a newly wed couple.”

“Cool.”

Dylan, while having one of the lamest names in the history of humanity, somehow lucked out at the end of academy training and became my partner.

Partner. I love that word because it both describes what we are and what we pretend to be.

What we are is a couple of buds who work together. What we pretend to be is a married couple. Even though marriage is the furthest thing from my mind and the closest thing to his. However, that doesn’t matter because we’re partners, not partners.

After missing the first few minutes of our briefing, Dylan finally jogged over from the omelet bar. “Whaf mis lit?” He muffled through a mouthful of food.

Used to his childish behavior, I was fluent in the kind of nonsense that leaves his lips. “We got our new assignment.”

He gulped the eggs down. “Coolio. What’s the happening?”

“That’s not correct grammar, but nonetheless we’re posing as newly wed couple to get close to President James.”

“Oh, is Jamie is trouble this time?”

“Please don’t call the president that.”

“What? I told you, I got the a-okay. We’re friends.”

I crossed my arms. “I refuse to believe that.”

He shrugged. “Believe whatever you want, baby doll. The truth will always be the truth.”

The Chief coughed to distract us from our arguing. “Yes, President James is in trouble this time…”

No matter how psychopathic it may have seemed, I smiled at those words. Man, it’s been so long since I’ve been on a real mission. I miss the chase.

“His wife worries that he’s eating too many sweets and may get diabetes.” The Chief continued.

My smile dropped into a frown. “Are you serious right now? Come on, Chief, give me a real mission. I can handle it!”

The Chief shook his head. “Sorry, it’s out of my hands. The higher ups just refuse to give you two those types of cases anymore. Not since the Giller Case.”

I glared at Dylan. He had just stuffed in another forkful of eggs into his mouth. “That wasn’t my fault.”

My eyes burned a hole into his forehead. “It was maybe a little my fault.” Dylan confessed.

I placed my hands on my hips. “Alright!” He added. “I may have made a mistake. It was a calculated risk, but man was I bad at math.”

“Stop quoting memes!”

“Never!”

I threw my hands up in the air. “It’s stuff like that that convinces the archduke we weren’t from Austria!”

“No, that was caused by your Hello Kitty socks.”

“They were on sale!”

Breaking away from our quarrel, the Chief clapped his hands. “Like that! Argue like that! Like some old married couple fighting over the remote and everyone will believe your a married couple.”

I sighed. “Fine. Let’s do this.”

Friday night. I could have spent it drinking away the painfully dullness that my job had succumbed to. Instead, I was sparing no drop of a forty-year-old scotch at a presidential Christmas party while watching the president eye up mini cupcakes. The only good thing about that night was Dylan as he continued to try and convince me he was personal friends with the president. Unfortunately for him, none of the secret security knew who he was and would let him near President James. Fortunately for me, none of the secret security knew who he was and would let him near President James. It made his efforts twice as hilarious.

Dylan slid over to the Secretary of State. “Hey, Sadie.” He greeted. “It’s nice to see you again.”

She eyed him up and down. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

Dylan smirked, glanced over at me, winked, then said. “You know, Dylan McLanster?”

I nearly spit out my scotch as she sighed and walked away, hiding behind a barrier of security guards. “Nice try.” I congratulated as I strolled over to him. “You really sold that. You should become a salesman! You know, since this whole ‘secret agent’ thing isn’t working out.”

“What are you talking about? Life has never been better. You’re my wife! We’re at a presidential Christmas party! And, I’m rocking besties with the president!”

I snorted. “We’re not actually married, you know.”

He winked again and I rolled my eyes with a simper on my lips. “Not yet.”

“Besides,” I added. “We’re only here to stop him from eating too much sugar, nothing important.”

Dylan glanced over my shoulder. “Well, apparently we can’t even do that.” He gestured tk the president stuffing three cupcakes down his throat at once—and a piece of fudge.

“Damn. That is impressive.” I took a sip of my scotch. “Shame I gotten stop him.”

As he held out his hand to stop me, Dylan said. “Hang on, babe. I got this.” He cleared his throat. “Aye! Yo, Jamie!”

I stifled a laugh as he dashed across the room. “Is that your husband?” A man asked behind me.

Pivoting around I came face to face with the vice president. “Oh, yeah.” I replied.

He smirked. “Good. You snatched a nice one. You two remind me and my husband and me. Never let him go.”

I stared into my drink, a slight smile to my lips. “I won’t.” And for the first time since I met Dylan, I was actually considering those words.

“Oh, it looks like they’re bringing out the cake now.”

My eyes widened in fear as they brought out a five tier, white, vanilla cake. Odd choice for Christmas, but okay. “Oh, god. Someone has to save the president.”

“Don’t worry. That’s not for him.” Dylan whispered behind me.

“Then who?”

“You.”

“What?” I turned around to see Dylan, this sappy romantic, down on one knee holding a ring pop. “Amanda, will you be my partner?”

“Dylan, you know my opinion about marriage,” I looked down at him. “But I really want to say yes.”

“Then say yes.”

“Yes.”

Bonus: “Congratulations. Dylan my boy!” President James called out as he popped the cork of a new bottle of champagne.

“Thanks, Jamie!”

I stared at him. “You’re really friends with the president?”

“Would I lie to you, babe?”