Page 48 of The Press Secretary's Passion
Cabe and Lacy slam into my brain. Ryan is twelve years older than I am. He has two children who are practically grown and out of the house and an ex-wife who he’s still friends with. His life is full. Obviously, there isn’t room for me in it, the way he bounces out of my bed with his boots already on every evening and then out the door. And even if there was room, he already has two kids. He won’t want any more. I need to cut my losses. Maybe in a few years, I can adopt a baby from overseas. This is the twenty-first century. I don’t have to be married to a man to have a baby. I can do it myself.
“Don’t you want to settle down and have a family?” Gil prods carefully as he skillfully cuts into his chicken.
“Sometimes,” I respond, shrugging. “I don’t know. What about you?”
“I’m going to marry a woman who will compliment me and my career,” he says like it’s the most logical choice. “As soon as I win this next election cycle, I’ll choose someone. Actually, I hear there’s a great matchmaker here for politically elevated families.”
“But don’t you want more?” I blurt, and I swear an annoyed look flits across his face, but it’s gone before I can be sure. “Don’t you want a love match?”
“What good will that do me?” He laughs. “I need someone who can go the distance so I can sit in your boss’s office in a few years. Besides, who’s to say we won’t grow to love each other? Does that surprise you?”
“Yeah, I guess it does,” I say before taking another bite of pasta. Suddenly, my favorite meal tastes like ash in my mouth. “I always thought you were different.”
“I am different, honey,” he says gently. “But I’m also practical. You were the dreamer. I want the White House, and to do that, I need to be well-connected to strong political allies.”
“Okay,” I say.
“So you understand?”
“Yes, Gil,” I reply sadly. “I understand.”
“Thank you,” he says, closing his eyes for a second before opening them. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
“Of course. I’ll always support my favorite brother,” I reply cheekily.
“Great,” he says, his voice full of feeling. “So you’ll have dinner with Senator Chancellor?”
“Wait, what?” I ask.
“You’ll help me make those political allies by aligning with the president’s father.”
“Not so fast,” I hiss over the table quietly. “I said I would support you in making your political allies. I will not marry a man I do not love, especially one old enough to be my grandfather.”
“But you said you wanted a family of your own one day,” he rallies. “Kids? How are you ever going to have kids if you don’t settle down?”
“And you think a man in his early eighties wants to have babies running around?” I laugh. “I don’t think so. I mean, his own son is in his forties.”
“You said it yourself,” he challenges. “That you’re excited about Grace’s baby. “You’ll make a wonderful grandmother to that baby.”
“This is insane,” I whisper-yell at him. “I won’t do it.”
“Please,” he begs. “I need this connection.”
“You’ll have to make it another way,” I say sadly. “I can’t be bought.”
“We’ll see about that,” he mutters under his breath, and I raise my hand and ask for a box. I’m going to go back to my house and binge this entire plate of pasta and whateverReal Housewivesfranchise orCash CabI can on demand tonight. There’s a bottle of wine and some yoga pants with my name on them. “Julia, you have to see reason.”
“What I see is that you’re so much like them now,” I say as I box up my dinner. “I love you, and I always will, but this hurts.”
“You’re being childish and unreasonable,” he snaps.
“I’m being childish?” I ask. “You called me and set up this dinner to look good for the papers. Don’t pretend like this whole evening had anything to do with me.”
“I love you, Julia,” he says with a sigh as he stands to hug me. When he pulls me close, he says in my ear, “Don’t make a foolhardy mistake that we’ll both regret.”
“I won’t,” I reply quietly when I pull away.
“Just… think on it, will you?”
