“One fucking minute, Grace,” I parrot back to him. “You said you want me to have a spine? Fine. I’ve got one. You’re not going to make me into someone I’m not.”
He takes my hand and squeezes, his eyes softening. “Fair enough.”
I let the silence grow between us, and his hand remains on mine. That placates me a little. “Cooking. I loved cooking, and my grandma taught me some great recipes.”
Jared nods. “Approved. That’s domestic and accessible. I’ll add it to your bio.”
“And biking. There are tons of bike paths in Portland.”
“Why not running? It’s better on video. You could do a bunch of charity runs.”
“I fucking hate running,” I hiss.
Jared holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Biking it is.” He clicks open a file on his laptop and repeats as he types, “Cooking, old family recipes, biking, and fighting with her consultant.”
My lips twitch with a smile at that last one. “And coffee.”
“Coffee is not a hobby.”
“It’s the nectar of life, Jared.” I laugh. “If coffee’s not relatable, I don’t know what is.”
***
“What’s next for us?”
It’s a casual question, asked as we enter my apartment. I drop my keys, touch Ethan’s picture, flick on the lights. One, two, three.
“We’ve got a day to prep before I go to work on your competition again,” Jared says.
“You won’t tell me who it is?”
Jared shakes his head. But I can put two and two together: Jared went to Florida. My best competition there is Congressman Juan Rivera, a three-term lawmaker with deep roots in the Latino community.
“Tell Rivera that I’m still pissed about him skunking my hydroelectric bill at the last minute.”
“You think it’s Rivera?”
“It’s not the governor.” I snort. “He botched the Florida state budget so badly there’s no way the party’s going to let him go national.”
“You have good instincts, Grace,” Jared says. “Rivera also gives good balance to the ticket. Not saying he’s the one.”
I roll my eyes. “Conover would be stupid not to consider him. At the last convention, Rivera gave such a moving ‘I am the American Dream’ speech that I was tearing up.”
Jared nodded. “He can pull at heartstrings. So can you.” He nods to Ethan’s picture and I shrink back. I hate that my son’s a political pawn now, more of a story than a boy.
“I’m not going to exploit Seth and Ethan to get elected.”
“You used them to get to where you are.”
“That was different! That was about making something good come out of all that bad.” I turn away from Jared, my eyes pricking with tears, but he grabs my shoulders to hold me in place.
“You used them then. You can use them now. Think of the alternative, Grace—you could just give up and let them be forgotten.” His harsh words are like a slap in the face.
“How dare you—”
“How dare I what? Help you see past what you’re scared to admit? Help you get ready for the most important moment of your life?”
My heart is cracking as he pushes and pushes, his arms pinning me to the wall, his face bent to look in my eyes, to force me to see him.
“How dare you push me?”
“Like this?” Jared releases my shoulders and I slump against the wall.
I fold my arms across my chest, a protective posture, and drop my head. “That’s not what I meant,” I mutter.
“How dare I tell you the truth?” His voice is lower, more dangerous. “How dare I force you to get out of this rut you’re in? Force you to change?”
“I don’t need to change.”
Jared’s eyes flash with anger. “You’re right, Grace. You don’t have to change. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” Jared’s words mock me, reminding me of my mulish refusals.
He backs up another couple of feet, leaving a chasm between us. “You don’t have to put in the effort, or challenge your assumptions, or sign on to Conover’s ticket.”
I look up and Jared’s hand is buried in his hair in frustration. He pulls his rental car keys out of his pocket.
“If you never change, you can go on living the same life you’ve lived. You’ll be safe. You’ll have your little dead family and your anonymous life and nobody to push you to become something else. Something more.”
Little dead family. The words echo in my ears and my heart cracks open in a flood of emotions I thought I’d cried out years ago. “Fuck you, Jared.”