{"id":67907,"date":"2026-03-15T01:26:45","date_gmt":"2026-03-15T01:26:45","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/popularnews71.net\/?p=67907"},"modified":"2026-03-15T01:36:16","modified_gmt":"2026-03-15T01:36:16","slug":"they-laughed-when-i-brought-a-plus-one-to-the-family-reunion-then-the-governor-walked-in","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/popularnews71.net\/?p=67907","title":{"rendered":"They Laughed When I Brought a Plus-One to the Family Reunion\u2014Then the Governor Walked In\u2026"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u201cImaginary Boyfriends Don\u2019t Count,\u201d My Aunt Cackled. A Black SUV Pulled Up. Secret Service Stepped Out First. \u201cSorry We\u2019re Late,\u201d James Said, Taking My Hand. The President Held Me Up\u2026<\/p>\n

Part 1
\nIf humiliation had a scent, it would smell like sun-warmed grass, grilled hot dogs, and Aunt Martha\u2019s potato salad.<\/p>\n

The McKinnon family reunion always took place in my parents\u2019 backyard, like we were locked into a tradition none of us remembered starting. Forty-seven relatives, three folding tables, one overconfident Bluetooth speaker, and enough passive-aggressive comments to qualify as a hobby.<\/p>\n

I was thirty-two. I taught high school drama in Oak Park. I could get teenagers to care about iambic pentameter, but I could not, apparently, get my extended family to stop acting like my life was a cautionary tale told to frighten successful people.<\/p>\n

By two p.m., my cousin Brittany had already asked, loudly, whether my job came with benefits \u201cor just applause,\u201d and my uncle Robert had made a thoughtful speech about how \u201ca woman\u2019s peak years\u201d were \u201cnot a renewable resource.\u201d<\/p>\n

It was only when Brittany spotted my phone on the picnic table\u2014charging, screen lit with an incoming call\u2014that she found her true calling.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh my God,\u201d she sang, scooping it up like she\u2019d just discovered buried treasure. \u201cEverybody, Haley\u2019s imaginary boyfriend is calling.\u201d<\/p>\n

I lunged. She pivoted away, holding my phone high, the way you hold a squeaky toy away from a determined dog.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour imaginary boyfriend called,\u201d Brittany announced to the entire yard, her voice bright and merciless. \u201cHe says he\u2019s stuck in traffic with your non-existent career and your fictional apartment in Manhattan.\u201d<\/p>\n

Laughter rolled through the yard. Not even kind laughter. The kind that says, We love you, but we love feeling superior more.<\/p>\n

My throat tightened so fast I almost couldn\u2019t breathe.<\/p>\n

Because the call wasn\u2019t from an imaginary boyfriend.<\/p>\n

And I hadn\u2019t told anyone.<\/p>\n

Eight months of secrecy does something to you. It teaches you how to smile through questions that feel like needles. It trains you to deflect. To shrug. To say, I\u2019m focusing on myself, and let people assume that means I\u2019m alone.<\/p>\n

Eight months of secrecy also makes you stupidly confident, like you can keep the world in separate compartments forever.<\/p>\n

Brittany hit speaker.<\/p>\n

Before I could snatch my phone back, a voice filled the backyard\u2014warm, amused, unmistakably familiar.<\/p>\n

\u201cHaley?\u201d he said, with the kind of calm that made chaos feel embarrassed to exist.<\/p>\n

My stomach dropped through the earth.<\/p>\n

Then the backyard gate swung open.<\/p>\n

And Governor James Rothwell walked in.<\/p>\n

Not alone.<\/p>\n

A black SUV idled at the curb. Two men in suits scanned the yard with professional intensity. Another woman, also in a suit, kept one hand near her earpiece. The whole scene looked wrong against the backdrop of lawn chairs and paper plates.<\/p>\n

James\u2014Jamie to me when it was just us\u2014stepped through the gate like he belonged there, like he\u2019d been invited, like this was not a suburban backyard full of strangers who\u2019d mocked the woman he loved thirty seconds ago.<\/p>\n

He was smiling.<\/p>\n

The smile that had turned debates into victory laps. The smile that had made people forgive him for saying things like \u201cbudget reconciliation\u201d with a straight face. The smile that, according to at least three magazines, had won him an alarming percentage of the female vote in Illinois.<\/p>\n

He walked straight toward me.<\/p>\n

Brittany\u2019s mouth opened.<\/p>\n

My aunt Martha\u2019s spoon froze halfway to her lips.<\/p>\n

Uncle Ted\u2019s beer tilted in his hand like gravity had suddenly changed its mind.<\/p>\n

\u201cActually,\u201d James said, loud enough for all forty-seven relatives to hear through the phone and in person, \u201cI wasn\u2019t stuck in traffic. I was stuck at the White House. The President wanted to go over the education bill before I flew out to meet my girlfriend\u2019s family.\u201d<\/p>\n

Aunt Martha\u2019s potato salad slid off her spoon and onto her shirt.<\/p>\n

Uncle Ted dropped his beer. The bottle hit the patio and shattered, a sharp crack that made the whole yard flinch.<\/p>\n

Brittany stood there, still holding my phone, her face doing something between disbelief and existential crisis.<\/p>\n

James reached me. He took my hand\u2014gentle, deliberate\u2014and lifted it to his lips.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy apologies for the delay, Mrs. McKinnon,\u201d he said, nodding politely at my mother, who looked like she\u2019d just been told the moon was a hoax. \u201cI promised Haley we\u2019d be here by two, but the President can be persistent.\u201d<\/p>\n

My grandmother\u2014who had been planted in her lawn chair for three hours, claiming her knees were \u201cdone with this lifetime\u201d\u2014shot up like she\u2019d been launched.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe President?\u201d she squeaked.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, ma\u2019am.\u201d James smiled at her with the kind of charm that could have convinced her to invest in cryptocurrency. \u201cThough between you and me, your granddaughter is a better negotiator than anyone in that building.\u201d<\/p>\n

My mother made a sound like a kettle trying to whistle.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2026 you two\u2014\u201d she tried.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ve been together since October,\u201d James supplied smoothly, as if we were discussing weather. \u201cEight months.\u201d<\/p>\n

My sister Emma\u2019s hand flew to her mouth. I saw her pull out her phone with the other hand, thumb already moving, and I knew she was texting every friend she\u2019d ever had: My sister is dating the governor, I\u2019m not okay.<\/p>\n

Brittany finally found her voice. \u201cYou\u2019re\u2026 you\u2019re really him.\u201d<\/p>\n

James glanced at her, then at my phone still in her hand. \u201cYes,\u201d he said pleasantly. \u201cAnd you\u2019re Brittany.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow do you\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve been livestreaming.\u201d He nodded toward the glowing screen. \u201cAnd you\u2019ve used a filter that makes everyone look slightly haunted.\u201d<\/p>\n

Brittany blinked, then glanced down at her phone like it had betrayed her.<\/p>\n

My uncle Robert stepped forward, shoulders squared like this was a board meeting. He had always fancied himself the family\u2019s final authority, especially since Grandpa died.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow hold on,\u201d Uncle Robert said, pointing a finger in my general direction. \u201cHow do we know this is real? No offense, Haley, but you\u2019re a high school teacher. He\u2019s\u2014well, he\u2019s him.\u201d<\/p>\n

The words hit like a slap. Familiar, too. The same underlying message my family had been feeding me for years: Be realistic. Lower your standards. Don\u2019t get above yourself.<\/p>\n

James went still.<\/p>\n

It was a different kind of stillness than the one politicians use for photos. This was the stillness I\u2019d seen on television right before he dismantled an opponent with facts and a smile.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d James said, voice soft but carrying. \u201cYou\u2019re questioning whether I\u2019m good enough for Haley?\u201d<\/p>\n

Uncle Robert\u2019s face flushed. \u201cThat\u2019s not what I\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause let me be clear.\u201d James\u2019s tone didn\u2019t rise, but the yard leaned in like it had. \u201cHaley McKinnon is the most remarkable woman I\u2019ve ever met.\u201d<\/p>\n

My heart squeezed so hard it hurt.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe turns teenagers who think Shakespeare is a punishment into kids who argue about Hamlet for fun. She stayed in Chicago over spring break to build sets with her students instead of going somewhere warm, because she said her kids deserved magic. She volunteers at a literacy center every Saturday and never makes anyone feel small.\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked directly at Uncle Robert.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo no, sir. The question is not whether she\u2019s good enough for me. The question is whether I\u2019m worthy of her.\u201d<\/p>\n

Silence fell like a blanket.<\/p>\n

Even the neighbor\u2019s lawn mower, somehow, seemed to pause in respect.<\/p>\n

One of the agents\u2014Davidson, my favorite because he once let my cat sniff his shoe without flinching\u2014stepped forward with the solemnity of someone delivering national security intelligence.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd for the record,\u201d he added, \u201cshe\u2019s beaten the governor at Scrabble multiple times.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSeven,\u201d I corrected automatically, because I have principles.<\/p>\n

James turned his head, scandalized. \u201cThe last one doesn\u2019t count. You played \u2018qi\u2019 and claimed it was a real word.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt is a real word,\u201d I shot back. \u201cIt\u2019s literally in the dictionary.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not the point,\u201d he insisted, then pointed at me like I was Exhibit A. \u201cSee? Ruthless. Beautiful, brilliant, and ruthless.\u201d<\/p>\n

My grandmother cackled. \u201cNobody could fake that,\u201d she declared. \u201cThey\u2019re real.\u201d<\/p>\n

I exhaled shakily, trying to catch up with my own life.<\/p>\n

James leaned closer, his voice dropping so only I could hear. \u201cYou okay?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I whispered. \u201cI\u2019m standing in the center of my worst nightmare and my best dream simultaneously.\u201d<\/p>\n

He squeezed my hand. \u201cGood. Because I\u2019m about to make it worse.\u201d<\/p>\n

Before I could ask what he meant, James stepped back and reached into his suit jacket.<\/p>\n

My heartbeat stuttered.<\/p>\n

A small velvet box appeared in his hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh my God,\u201d Emma whispered, sounding reverent and horrified.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I breathed. \u201cJamie. Not here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d he said simply. \u201cHere.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then he dropped to one knee on my parents\u2019 grass in front of my entire extended family, a Secret Service detail, and three neighbors who had drifted closer pretending they weren\u2019t watching.<\/p>\n

He flipped open the box.<\/p>\n

The ring was stunning in a quiet way. Vintage art deco. Elegant. The kind of ring you\u2019d imagine on someone who owned pearls and knew how to say \u201chors d\u2019oeuvres\u201d correctly.<\/p>\n

It was also the ring I\u2019d paused in front of months ago in an antique shop window. I\u2019d said, offhandedly, It\u2019s ridiculous. It\u2019s perfect. It\u2019s not for someone like me.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou remembered,\u201d I whispered, throat burning.<\/p>\n

\u201cI remember everything,\u201d he said, and the polished governor voice was gone. This was just Jamie\u2014tired, earnest, a little scared. \u201cHow you take your coffee. How you cry after every show, even the bad ones, because you\u2019re proud of your kids. How you leave me voice messages at two in the morning about books because your brain won\u2019t shut off.\u201d<\/p>\n

My eyes blurred.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow you make me laugh when my job is heavy,\u201d he continued. \u201cHow you remind me why I started doing any of this.\u201d<\/p>\n

He took a breath.<\/p>\n

\u201cHaley McKinnon,\u201d he said, voice raw, \u201cyou magnificent, maddening, magical woman. Will you marry me? Will you let me spend the rest of my life trying to deserve you?\u201d<\/p>\n

My family held its breath.<\/p>\n

My mother\u2019s hands hovered near her mouth like she couldn\u2019t decide whether to pray or faint.<\/p>\n

My grandmother, shockingly, gave me a small approving nod.<\/p>\n

Brittany\u2019s livestream camera shook, as if even her hands were overcome by the moment.<\/p>\n

I looked down at James. At the man who had driven through security protocol and political caution like they were speed bumps, because I\u2019d called him crying about my family making me feel small.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe President is going to be furious,\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019ll survive,\u201d James said. \u201cAnswer the question.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe press will be awful.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI have an excellent press team,\u201d he said, then smiled like a sinner. \u201cThey live for awful.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t cook,\u201d I said, because panic makes you stupid.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll eat pasta forever,\u201d he said. \u201cAnswer the question, Haley.\u201d<\/p>\n

I laughed through tears.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I said. \u201cYes, obviously. Yes.\u201d<\/p>\n

The yard erupted. Shouts. Clapping. Emma making a noise that may have been a sob or a squeal. My mother crying openly. My grandmother laughing like she\u2019d just watched the best show of her life.<\/p>\n

James slid the ring onto my finger, stood, and kissed me in front of everyone\u2014soft at first, then deeper, like he wasn\u2019t afraid anymore.<\/p>\n

When we finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against mine.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo more hiding,\u201d he whispered.<\/p>\n

Behind us, Davidson spoke into his earpiece with the weary tone of someone making a list. \u201cAdd \u2018hostile relatives\u2019 to the threat assessment,\u201d he muttered. \u201cAlso, possibly hostile cats.\u201d<\/p>\n

I snorted. \u201cMy cat is not hostile.\u201d<\/p>\n

James glanced at me. \u201cYour cat has stared at me like I owe him money.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s just his face,\u201d I said, and the truth of my new life settled into my bones: complicated, insane, and undeniably real.<\/p>\n

Part 2
\nBy Monday morning, my engagement ring had its own news cycle.<\/p>\n

When I walked into Oak Park North High, the security guard at the entrance held up a hand like he was directing traffic.<\/p>\n

\u201cMs. McKinnon,\u201d he said solemnly, \u201cthe front office would like to speak with you. Also\u2026 Channel Seven is outside.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course they are,\u201d I muttered.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d promised James\u2014promised myself\u2014that I would keep teaching. That I wouldn\u2019t let politics swallow the part of me that was mine. That my students wouldn\u2019t lose their director two weeks before auditions because the governor decided to fall in love like a man with no sense of self-preservation.<\/p>\n

But I hadn\u2019t fully considered what it looked like when a public figure\u2019s secret relationship became public in the middle of a suburban barbecue.<\/p>\n

My drama kids met me in the hallway like I was a celebrity.<\/p>\n

\u201cMs. McKinnon!\u201d Malik shouted, eyes wide. \u201cIs it true you know the President?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said automatically, then paused. \u201cI mean\u2026 technically I have been in the same building as him.\u201d<\/p>\n

A cluster of freshmen screamed like I\u2019d confirmed I was a Marvel character.<\/p>\n

Jenna, my stage manager, leaned in close. \u201cSo does this mean we can get James Rothwell to narrate our spring musical?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said again.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAbsolutely not.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jenna blinked. \u201cOkay,\u201d she said, like she was filing it away for later. \u201cCan we at least make the show\u2019s theme \u2018power and betrayal\u2019 so it feels like your life?\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared at her. \u201cAre you getting enough sleep?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m thriving,\u201d she said, and skipped away.<\/p>\n

In the front office, my principal, Mr. DeLeon, sat behind his desk with a folder in front of him and the expression of a man who regretted going into education.<\/p>\n

\u201cHaley,\u201d he said, using my first name like we were about to discuss an intervention. \u201cI\u2019m happy for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you,\u201d I said cautiously.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m also terrified,\u201d he added. \u201cWe have a duty to protect students. We have liability concerns. We have\u2026 journalists.\u201d<\/p>\n

He gestured toward the window, where I could see a camera crew hovering near the entrance like vultures with press badges.<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t ask for this,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know,\u201d he sighed. \u201cBut the district office has already called twice. They want to know if Secret Service will be on campus regularly. They want to know if we\u2019re at risk. They want to know if you\u2019ll be in the paper and how often.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll be in the paper exactly as often as I can avoid it,\u201d I promised.<\/p>\n

Mr. DeLeon slid the folder toward me. \u201cThey also want to know if you\u2019ve been involved in shaping state policy.\u201d<\/p>\n

I almost laughed. \u201cI teach teenagers how not to trip over props.\u201d<\/p>\n

He rubbed his temples. \u201cJust\u2026 be careful. And maybe don\u2019t let anyone film kids.\u201d<\/p>\n

I nodded. \u201cAgreed.\u201d<\/p>\n

On my lunch break, I hid in the costume closet and called James.<\/p>\n

He picked up on the second ring, breathless. \u201cHey, sweetheart.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou sound like you\u2019re running.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI am,\u201d he said. \u201cA donor breakfast, then a meeting with the Senate leadership, then I have to pretend I like a man who thinks charter schools are a personality.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJamie,\u201d I said, lowering my voice as footsteps passed outside. \u201cThere are cameras at my school.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAlready?\u201d he groaned. \u201cI\u2019m so sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not blaming you,\u201d I said quickly, though part of me wanted to. \u201cI just\u2026 I need to know what to expect.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was a beat of silence\u2014then his voice softened. \u201cWhat you can expect,\u201d he said, \u201cis my team being annoying. They\u2019re going to call you. They\u2019re going to tell you what not to wear. They\u2019re going to ask you to think before you speak. And they\u2019re going to be right, even when it feels gross.\u201d<\/p>\n

As if summoned, my phone buzzed with an unknown number.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think your team is calling,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey move like sharks when they smell headline risk,\u201d he said wearily. \u201cPick up. Be nice. They\u2019re trying to protect you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t need protection,\u201d I said automatically.<\/p>\n

\u201cHaley,\u201d he said gently, \u201cyou deserve it anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n

The call waiting beeped again.<\/p>\n

I switched over.<\/p>\n

\u201cHaley McKinnon?\u201d a crisp voice asked. \u201cThis is Willa Chen, Governor Rothwell\u2019s communications director. Congratulations. Also, please do not say \u2018I don\u2019t need protection\u2019 to anyone with a microphone.\u201d<\/p>\n

I closed my eyes. \u201cThat was fast.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re fast,\u201d Willa said. \u201cWe have to be. Okay, here\u2019s the situation. The engagement is public. The relationship is public. There are already opinion pieces about whether you\u2019re \u2018good\u2019 for him. Please don\u2019t read them.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m definitely going to read them,\u201d I admitted.<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease don\u2019t,\u201d she repeated, as if saying it harder would change my personality. \u201cWe need to get you media-trained.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m a drama teacher,\u201d I said. \u201cI train people to lie convincingly for applause.\u201d<\/p>\n

Willa paused. \u201cThat is\u2026 not the worst foundation.\u201d<\/p>\n

A second voice cut in\u2014lower, smoother, older. \u201cIs this Haley?\u201d<\/p>\n

Willa made a sound like she\u2019d been elbowed. \u201cRenee, not yet\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is Renee Alvarez,\u201d the new voice said. \u201cChief of staff. Haley, I\u2019m going to be blunt. People are going to come for you. Not because of anything you\u2019ve done, but because you matter to him, and you are, therefore, leverage.\u201d<\/p>\n

My stomach tightened. \u201cLeverage for what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFor the education bill,\u201d Renee said. \u201cFor his future. For the fact that some people are terrified of a young governor who\u2019s popular and stubborn.\u201d<\/p>\n

I leaned against the costume rack, my fingers brushing sequined fabric. \u201cOkay,\u201d I said carefully. \u201cSo what do you want from me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe want you safe,\u201d Renee said. \u201cWe want you steady. We want you to continue being who you are\u2014because that\u2019s what he loves\u2014but we need you to understand the stakes.\u201d<\/p>\n

Willa cut in quickly. \u201cAlso, we need you to stop calling him Jamie in public. It\u2019s adorable. It\u2019s also a branding nightmare.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not a brand,\u201d I snapped.<\/p>\n

There was a quiet pause.<\/p>\n

Then Willa said softly, \u201cI know. But the world will try to make you one. We\u2019re trying to keep you human while we do damage control.\u201d<\/p>\n

My throat burned, unexpectedly emotional. \u201cOkay,\u201d I said. \u201cTell me what to do.\u201d<\/p>\n

The next forty-eight hours were a crash course in public life.<\/p>\n

I learned that reporters would call my mother. I learned that my sister Emma had already created a wedding Pinterest board titled First Lady Energy. I learned that my aunt Patricia had emailed the governor\u2019s office asking if James could \u201csay hello\u201d to her neighbor\u2019s son who was \u201cgoing through a hard time,\u201d as if the governor was a motivational speaker you could rent.<\/p>\n

I also learned that Brittany had posted seventeen clips from the reunion, each one tagged with some variation of #GovGoesMcKinnon.<\/p>\n

One clip\u2014a shaky, zoomed-in shot\u2014caught James kneeling. Another caught my face when I realized he\u2019d bought the exact ring I\u2019d admired. Another caught Uncle Robert\u2019s purple anger, his mouth shaping words I couldn\u2019t hear.<\/p>\n

The comments were\u2026 a lot.<\/p>\n

Some people were thrilled. Some called me lucky. Some called me a gold-digger. Some wrote essays about power dynamics like they\u2019d been personally hired by the internet to ruin joy.<\/p>\n

And then\u2014like a punchline I didn\u2019t deserve\u2014a different clip went viral.<\/p>\n

It was me, from years ago, on a low-budget web series I\u2019d filmed during my brief, humiliating attempt to be an actress.<\/p>\n

A grainy scene. Overdramatic lighting. My voice too loud because I\u2019d been nervous.<\/p>\n

The caption read: Governor\u2019s Fianc\u00e9e Was A Struggling Actress. What Else Is She Hiding?<\/p>\n

That night, James came home late\u2014our \u201chome\u201d being the apartment he kept in Chicago when he wasn\u2019t in Springfield, the one I\u2019d spent eight months sneaking into like a criminal.<\/p>\n

He dropped his bag, crossed the room, and pulled me into his arms.<\/p>\n

\u201cI saw the video,\u201d he murmured into my hair.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d I whispered, shame crawling up my spine. \u201cI\u2019m sorry I\u2019m embarrassing.\u201d
\nPart 2\ud83d\udc47\ud83d\udc47\ud83d\udc47
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\u201cImaginary Boyfriends Don\u2019t Count,\u201d My Aunt Cackled. A Black SUV Pulled Up. Secret Service Stepped Out First. \u201cSorry We\u2019re Late,\u201d James Said, Taking My Hand. 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