“Whatever are you doing with all those pictures of FLOTUS?” Laura asked Mitch later that night. It was one of her rare visits to his home office/man cave, where he nonetheless kept the names on his Post-it-filled boards in code. Not that he had to. Laura was both incurious and unimaginative when it came to symbols. Photographs, however, were her stock in trade.
“You got me. I’m secretly in love with her.” Laura put one hand on her hip and smirked. It hurt Mitch’s manly pride a little that she considered him incapable of infidelity—but only a little. He had bigger fish to fry. “Actually, I was seeking inspiration for one of your Christmas gifts.”
“Mitchie,” she squealed in delight. “You are a prince among men and so observant. I do so love her style—and not just in clothes. I think she’s
