When I awoke in Buckingham Palace, it was as if I were still in a dream. I turned my head to the tall, narrow windows, where sunlight was just beginning to peek through the gray clouds. I had drawn open the heavy drapes the night before so that I would rise with the first light and see the view of the Queen Victoria Memorial and gardens. It was early, but the fatigue I had been experiencing over the last few weeks felt like a distant memory. I pulled the sheets down to stare at my belly.
It was another working visit to London, but staying at Buckingham Palace made it singularly special. I got dressed and went into the adjoining sitting room that connected our two bedrooms to meet up with HRC, who was seated in a wingback chair reading some papers as the palace staff wheeled in scrambled eggs and properly brewed tea. For a moment, I thought I would tell her my news, but I stopped myself. At only eight weeks along, it was too early to share.
He told me not to worry, so even though the concept of being hacked was unsettling, I didn’t. I just saw this as yet another item on the unending stream of incoming. Anthony was the problem solver in our relationship, and since he said he was handling this one, I was sure he would. I felt violated, angry for him, but also confident that he would get past it. HRC had been falsely accused of all kinds of nefarious acts, so scandal based on even the wildest of fabrications wasn’t exactly new territory for me.
I still remember everything about where we were in that moment, the white shaggy rug, the wooden staircase, the front door ajar, the sofa to my left. Anthony opened his mouth to speak and, as though a dam wall burst, words came flooding out. He said that he couldn’t stand lying anymore. His body shook as he tried to choke back tears.
I don’t know why I went with Anthony to his press conference. Maybe it was to be sure he did it, maybe because we were now so used to being a unit, any other possibility seemed unnatural. But when one of his advisers asked if I would be joining him as he made his statement, I shook my head. As they all walked out of the room and toward the cameras, I slipped out to the lobby and onto the streets of Manhattan. Free. Anonymous. This was Anthony’s mess. He needed to clean it up.
“Philippe!! NO, they cannot do that. I am not even 12 weeks, and I can’t tell anyone until then. You have to explain that to them. There have to be mothers at the“Well, first of all, congratulations. I am really happy for you. Second of all, they have two sources so they don’t really need my official confirmation. They are going to run with it. They’re just giving me a courtesy heads-up. Is there anyone you want to tell personally before it becomes public?”“It may be wrong, but it’s also news.
HumaAbedin Reading this excerpt from your book made me happy and at the same time sad because of all the pain you had to go through. It also shows again what incredible persons you and HillaryClinton are. ❤️😍❤️
HumaAbedin Can't wait to read the book.
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