Page 7 of Capitally Engaged

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I think I must be extra sleep deprived today. You said we shouldn’t break up like you thought we should stay fake engaged and I lost it.” A few stray chuckles slipped out. What an incredulous thing to say.

Jax shrugged as she took a sip of her wine. “I do mean I think we should stay fake engaged. We both have things we need, and I think we can help each other.”

My eyes widened as I started to believe her. She really wasn’t kidding. “I barely know anything about you, other than you’re a political reporter and, well, that you have IBS. I’m not sure how that translates into grounds for a relationship.”

“Well,” Jax said. “For starters, you’re right. Giving the chef free rein over my food choices tonight may cause hellfire to rain down later, but at least I’ll be at home with my own toilet. And I, as you may have figured out, don’t believe in sugarcoating my body’s malfunctions for the sake of other’s delicate constitutions. Second, in full transparency, my living situation is in flux, so moving in with a fiancé would really help me out of a jam.”

“Moving in?” I spluttered the sip of wine I had just taken.

Jax waved her hand, as if suggesting I release the thought from my mind. “We’ll come back to that. Third, I’m not a political reporter anymore. My contract expired and I found out today they’re not going to renew it.”

“Shit, I’m sor?—”

Jax waved me off. “Don’t be. I’ve been writing in the political realm for the last five years after getting my MFA. It started with local politics and I worked my way up to the big stage. That’s not because I love it, but because the best man at my parent’s wedding gave me a job out of pity five years ago when I was desperate. I’ve hopped from publication to publication since then. And today, I decided to stop hopping.”

Our conversation paused as the waiter delivered our appetizers, Steak Tartare du Parc. Jax and I dug into the food, which smelled amazing.

After a few minutes of plating our food and murmurs over the delicious taste, Jax rolled her shoulders and started her pitch.

“I couldn’t help but hearing your office needs some comms help?”

“This is off the record?”

“My god, there’s no record for it to be on! But yes, sure, it’s off the record.”

I sighed. “Yes, we need comms help. Our former Communications Director got allocated to the staff for the campaign, and I can’t get Senator Marsden to replace one for our office. I’m already writing speeches for both his campaign and appearances for his current term because he won’t take speeches from anyone else. Now he’s making me write press releases and handle interview requests too, on top of managing the rest of the staff. I’m going to die from an ulcer before I ever get to run for office myself.”

Jax smiled like a cat who finally caught that pesky canary.

“I had you pegged for personal political aspirations. Why else would you put up with that bastard?”

“He’s not that bad...” I trailed off, looking to either side of our table to be sure our dinner mates were engaged in conversation before leaning closer. “Okay, heisthat bad. But he does a lot of good work for causes I’m passionate about, and I started as Chief of Staff for a senator when I was only twenty-eight. I couldn’t pass up that kind of job offer.”

“I totally understand doing what you need to do to achieve your goals—which is where I come in.”

Jax and I stared at each other as they cleared our appetizer and placed our entrée of Porc Milanese in front of us.

“Monsieur and madame, anything else you need right now?”

“We’re all set for now, thank you,” Jax answered, never breaking her gaze from mine.

I picked up my knife and fork, cutting into my dinner. I meant to tell Jax to save it, I wasn’t interested, but I heard myself, as if from an out-of-body experience, saying, “Okay, I’m listening.”

“So, let me see if I have this straight,” I said to the gorgeous woman across from me, setting my silverware down on my empty plate. Throughout our courses, it occurred to me she might be an evil mastermind. “We continue to pretend we’re engaged. To sell that ruse, you move in with me and we act like a couple in front of family, friends, and colleagues. In return, you’ll take the Comms Director role in the senator’s office, so I don’t have to continue to do two jobs and die an early death.”

“Don’t forget you won’t have to admit to the senator you lied to him, and it’ll be a good look for you to have a committed partner as you explore launching your own campaign in a year or two. Probably eighteen months, right? House of Representatives?”

I felt my jaw drop open. I hadn’t even told any of my brothers I planned to run for the House in the next election cycle.

“I thought you said you weren’t good at this political reporter thing.”

Jax dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “I said I didn’t want the job to begin with. Not that I wasn’t great at it.” She looked around for our waiter. “Do you think we need a nightcap to go with our dessert, to officially toast our engagement? Maybe a glass of port?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever actually had port. I usually have to run out and do something for Mitchell when it gets to that part of the evening.”

“Port, it is.” She made eye contact with our waiter. After confirming it would go well with whatever dessert masterpiece they’ll be bringing out momentarily, she put in the order.

As the waiter walked away again, I asked, “So, if you didn’t want to be a political reporter, what was your focus for your MFA program?”

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