The Race
“In one sense, this was typical, part of the fabric of their marriage—Rob, restless and unable to sleep; Mary Rose, despite her own weariness from the various demands of their children, stirring herself from the warmth of their bed to serve as a sounding board. But today was different: in four hours, he would declare his candidacy for president of the United States.
Despite this, Rob saw the two of them clearly: he in his robe, the thick black hair on his crown standing up in the way that amused... Mary Rose, who, as she did so often, appraised him with a look combining keenness with affection. She battled with her weight now, and the fifteen extra pounds blurred the gamine face that had charmed him at age nineteen, but the girl he had fallen in love with still shone through the woman who had been his partner for twenty-four years of marriage. Whatever good fortune Corey Grace enjoyed, Rob told himself, he would not have traded this moment for the best moment of Grace's life.
Putting down her coffee mug, Mary Rose touched his wrist.MoreLess
Despite this, Rob saw the two of them clearly: he in his robe, the thick black hair on his crown standing up in the way that amused... Mary Rose, who, as she did so often, appraised him with a look combining keenness with affection. She battled with her weight now, and the fifteen extra pounds blurred the gamine face that had charmed him at age nineteen, but the girl he had fallen in love with still shone through the woman who had been his partner for twenty-four years of marriage. Whatever good fortune Corey Grace enjoyed, Rob told himself, he would not have traded this moment for the best moment of Grace's life.
Putting down her coffee mug, Mary Rose touched his wrist.MoreLess
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