“Same thing.”
“Not even close.”
I lean back in my chair and watch her. She’s in her zone now, pulling quotes, tagging timestamps, adjusting her voice tone between cuts. I don’t feel defensive anymore when she pokes holes in my version of the truth. I just want to make sure we’re building something accurate. Respectful. Fair.
We’ve done dozens of press moments and podcast tie-ins, but now there’s an added element that didn’t exist before. I realize I’m not just impressed with her hustle. I admire her clarity, her integrity, her ability to call out bullshit while stillcaring about people. Somehow, we’re on the same side, and it doesn’t feel like giving up ground. It feels like alignment.
It’s almost five by the time we wrap. Jess closes her laptop with a satisfied sigh and tosses the empty donut box in the trash. “Your team’s getting better,” she says, grabbing her bag.
“You mean I’m getting better.”
She shrugs, already halfway to the door. “Or I’m rubbing off on you.”
I follow her into the hallway, matching her pace. The elevator dings and opens, but before she can step inside, I speak up. “I do have one question.”
“Shoot.”
“The fundraiser. You still good with it?” She pauses, turning to face me fully, surprise flickering across her face.
“You mean emotionally or logistically?”
“Both.” The elevator doors close without us, but neither of us moves to call it back.
“I told you I’d go,” she says simply. “I meant it.”
I nod but find myself pressing further. “It’s a lot. Press, guests, my family. And my father will be there.”
Her eyes narrow slightly at the mention of him, but her voice remains steady. “I’m not worried.”
“You’re sure? The doc crew won’t be there, so you don’t have to be on if you don’t want to deal with him.”
“Lucas.” Her voice softens, and she takes a small step closer. “Don’t worry about me. We’re on the same side now.”
“That’s exactly why I’m worried,” I say quietly. “You’re a lot more dangerous now.”
She raises an eyebrow, and a slow smirk spreads across her face. “Good thing you’re married to me, then.”
“Don’t remind me,” I mutter, but I’m fighting a smile.
She laughs as she calls another elevator, and when the doors slide shut with her inside, I’m left alone in the hallway with a thousand unspoken thoughts and a growing certainty that I am completely, irreversibly fucked.
twenty-one
. . .
Jess
The hallway isquiet except for my keys jingling in the lock when I twist them to open the door. I’m back at my place for the first time in almost a month, stopping by to grab a few things before the trip to Lucas’s parents’ house for the fundraiser. Clothes. Shoes. A dress that says “cool and collected daughter-in-law,” not “accidental Vegas bride.”
The scent of eucalyptus and rose hits me immediately, and I know that’s Stella’s doing. One of her intention candles flickers gently on the coffee table, casting the whole living room in a soft amber glow.
She’s curled up on the couch in one of my sweatshirts, her knees tucked under her, with a laptop balanced on her thighs and a bowl of popcorn nestled beside her.
“Oh, hey!” she chirps when she sees me. “You’re back! I didn’t know I’d see you tonight.”
“Just a pit stop.” I drop my bag by the entry table and toe off my boots. “We leave for Lucas’s parents’ place in the morning, and I forgot the dress I need.
I head toward my room, but she calls out before I disappear. “Hey, do you—do you have a sec?”
