“Can I ask you something personal?” I venture.
She looks wary but nods.
“Why haven’t you…” I hesitate, not sure how to phrase this delicately. “I mean, you’ve never mentioned relationships. Before this.” I gesture vaguely between us.
“It’s complicated.”
“We’ve got time.”
With a sigh, Jess crosses her arms in front of her. “I learned early on that most guys like me because of my connection to baseball. Or I’m a pretty face they think they can control and who will look good on their arm.” She staresat some point over my shoulder. “But I also learned quickly that most men don’t like strong women.”
“Dumb men,” I acknowledge.
“Plus, my career has always come first. I’ve worked so hard to be taken seriously, to not be seen as just ‘the baseball owner’s daughter.’ Relationships seemed like a distraction at best, a liability at worst.” She shrugs.
The honesty in her answer catches me off guard. “I get that,” I say eventually. “More than you might think.”
“Yeah? What’s your excuse?”
It’s my turn to be put on the spot. “Besides my father’s relentless attempts to pair me with politically advantageous partners?”
“Besides that,” she says with a small smile.
I take a breath. “I watched too many political marriages growing up. People who started with genuine feelings but ended up as business partners at best, adversaries at worst. Public smiles, private resentments.”
“Your parents?”
I shake my head. “Not exactly. My father is complex. He does love my mother, in his self-centered way. He’s always tried to be a good family man, at least in his own mind.”
“But?”
I choose my next words carefully. “But his definition of good has always been flexible, especially when it comes to his campaigns.”
Jess’s expression shifts slightly. There’s a flicker of something unreadable. Understanding, maybe, or something closer to disappointment?
“Ah,” she says quietly.
I don’t ask what she means by that, but I wonder what’s playing across her mind right now. Stories she’s told about other politicians? The scandals she’s uncovered? Is she slotting my family into one of her mental files, wondering if there’s more to dig into?
“Yeah.” I drain my glass. “So, between that example and growing up in the public eye, relationships always felt like performances rather than real connections.” I gesture around the apartment. “Kind of like our current situation.”
She laughs softly. “Can’t argue with that.”
The doorbell rings, jolting us from the moment. Jess glances at her watch.
“That’s Dylan. Right on time.”
I nod, oddly disappointed that our conversation is being cut short. “I’ll make myself scarce while you do your confessional.”
She stands, smoothing down the hoodie. “Thanks for the drink. And the talk.”
“Anytime.”
As she heads for the door, I call after her, “Jess?”
She turns, her eyebrows raised in question.
“One more thing about the fundraiser. My father will probably say something insulting. Just ignore him. He’s not worth getting upset over.”
