So simple.
Considering I lived in a marriage where kissing was abandoned soon after we had Ethan, I don’t think a little kissing or making out is of the question. He’s seen my body. He’s taken me in nearly every other way.
And yet, no kiss.
I hear Jared’s breathing deepen, his back a brick wall to me, shutting me out of any physical affection.
And so, for hours in an anonymous Denver hotel room, I toss and turn.
No kiss.
Fitting. Jared’s no prince, and my life is anything but a fairy tale.
Chapter Eighteen
“You should buy a new car.”
Jared’s random comment interrupts my reading on the flight home. “I have a car. I like my car.” My little 350Z is another sign of my new life, with no backseat appropriate for hauling Ethan in his booster seat to soccer practice.
“You need an American car. Something more fuel-efficient.” Jared doesn’t look up from his laptop. “They’re going to ask, you know. And we’re going to want to have a better answer.”
“They’re not going to vote for me because of my car.”
Finally, Jared looks up. Fine lines around his eyes reveal tension, maybe worry. All morning, things were awkward between us. “You’re right. They’re not going to vote for a Conover-Colton ticket when you give them a reason to vote for Darrow.”
“What kind of car does he have?”
“A Tesla. American company. All electric.” Jared shrugs his shoulders. “This is how the game is played, Grace. Every little bit counts. And every part of you will be scrutinized.”
I huff and cross my arms. “I’ll think about it.”
“Think about a dog, too.”
“What? No. No way. I can hardly keep my cacti alive when I’m gone in D.C.”
“Then get a house sitter.”
“No. It’s not fair to the dog. And besides, I’m allergic.”
“There are hypoallergenic breeds.”
I slap him with my get-the-hell-out look. “Stop it. I’m not getting a new car or a new dog just to appease some demographic. You’re treating me like a commodity, Jared.”
“No, I’m packaging you. Voters are going to wonder about you—you’re alone, and you’ve been alone for years. There are no stories to run on your family, or what you do in your off hours.”
“I kayak.”
“A loner sport. You should be taking up tennis, something relatable, something that connects you with other people. What’s your favorite sports team?”
“The Portland Timbers.” Portland has a recent obsession with Major League Soccer.
“Wrong. Not enough people care about soccer. You should develop a deep and abiding love of the Seattle Mariners.”
“And join a fantasy football league while I’m at it?” My voice drips with sarcasm. “Maybe buy some season tickets to Oregon Ducks football?”
“It couldn’t hurt.” Jared’s tone is mild. Light. Like he’s not just asking me to change everything about me.
“Let’s just stick to the issues, Jared.”
“Fine. Then I’ll tell you what’s going to be an issue. You can be the smartest person on that podium, but if voters can’t connect with you, they’ll go for the other guy. It comes down to likability.”
“Are you saying I’m not likable?” My hackles are up, and I fight to keep the edge in my voice from wavering.
“I’m saying you’re hard to know.”
I snort. Hello, pot, I’m kettle.
“Aaron Darrow’s got a million pictures out there: sailing with his family in San Francisco Bay, picking fruit in his grandfather’s orchard in Reedley, even surfing. Each of those things forms a connection. Voters start thinking, ‘I could trust this man with my vote. He’s a lot like me.’”
Aaron Darrow is nothing like normal people. “And you’re saying I’m not. Like them.”
Jared cuts his eyes to me, his expression calculating. “They won’t get what makes you tick. Get another hobby, Grace. And a dog and a car while you’re at it.”
“Knitting,” I throw out.
“Too old-fashioned.”
“Gardening.”
“America’s number-one hobby. That’s a safe bet, but you don’t have a garden.”
“Golf. Skiing.”
“Too inaccessible. Most of America can’t afford greens fees or get to a ski resort.”
“Fine, then. What? Stamp-collecting? Ping pong? Should I raise llamas?”
Jared throws back his head and laughs, and it echoes through the cabin, turning a few heads. “I think you should put down fighting with me as a favorite hobby. You sure do it enough.”