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Jessie lifted his hands. "I'm not going to ask for details. If her name is Olive, if it's Mallory...if the kid is yours...what her arrest was about. You bring me a story, that's what we'll tell the press. Just make a good story. And one that makes her likable."
"Wait...you're not going to tell me to find someone new?"
Jessie sighed. "I could, but at this point, I don't think you will."
"Why do you say that?"
The grin on Jessie's face made me realize the stupidity of my question. "Lucas, there's kid's cereal on the counter and a pile of woman's laundry on your couch. They're obviously living here. But as I already said, I'm not going to ask for details, just like I'm not going to ask you to find someone new. Especially when there's a kid involved. You know, I got three of my own, and I don't fuck with that."
My shoulders relaxed. "Don't take this wrong way, but Jess, I didn't know you actually had a heart."
"Dick." Jessie snorted. "Gotta let it come out sometimes." His gaze slipped past me, and his eyes widened, his posture immediately stiffening. "Oh, well, hello again."
Olive appeared behind me, her hands clasped together. "Hi, Mr. Isaacs."
Jessie grinned. "Now, you know I told you to call me Jessie...and what would you like me to call you?"
"Olive. My name is Olive Winters. I told you my name was Mallory because that's the name I've been living under after escaping an abusive relationship. Hence, my arrest for domestic assault."
I couldn't take my eyes off of her. This was not what she had told me before. She said she just played with the name Mallory for the fun of it. But I didn't say anything and let her continue.
"Lucas and I did go to college together. We were in a relationship when I got pregnant. I was afraid Lucas would sacrifice attending grad school to help support me, which would have ruined his relationship with his parents. I didn't want him to do that for me. And I had a solid support system. So I broke up with him without telling him I was pregnant."
She suddenly grabbed my hand, her fingers weaving between mine.
"I was just young, and that lie was a mistake, one I'm still apologizing for. I realize now that Lucas would have supported me. When we ran into each other a few months ago, I finally told him the truth." She squeezed my hand. "And we picked up right where we left off. We've been dating ever since."
I blinked. Where the fuck did I start unpacking that?
Jessie, on the other hand, couldn't have looked more satisfied. His shit eating grin only got wider with everything Olive said.
Jessie wagged a finger in the air. "Now, that's the kind of story that's going to get us to the White House." He handed Olive his card. "You think you can remember it just like that, put it into writing, and send it to my assistant?"
Olive reached out for the card. "Yep."
Jessie hesitated, the card still in his hand. "And memorize it? So it sounds like the truth?"
Olive smiled. "Yep."
"Good girl." Jessie released the card into her hand, and then patted me on the back. "Looks like you found a good one, Lucas."
I blinked, unsure of how to even respond. Jessie didn't even care if any of the things she'd said were true. He just wanted a good story. One that would make us look good. I knew that the world of politics was dirty, but seeing it unfold like this in my home was...bizarre.
"We'll be in touch soon, Lucas. Olive. You two tell your daughter she's got a bright future ahead of her."
The door closed, and I looked at Olive. She was still holding my hand. "What the fuck was that?"
She shrugged, let go of my hand, and walked into the kitchen. "Damage control. Jessie Isaacs is the kind of man who doesn't care about the truth. He just wants whatever is going to help him get ahead."
I blinked. She was right but damn. "And you're okay with that?"
Olive started pouring herself a bowl of cereal. "Aren't you?"
Crossing to the counter, I sat on the barstool. "I guess I'm just kind of confused. Last night, you were pissed at me for being concerned about your mugshot and how it might affect my career. And now you're making up stories about yourself to help me. I mean, did you really use the name Mallory to get away from your ex?"
"No," she said. "I just used it for fun at the party. But that doesn't make a good story. That's not sad. And people love sadness." I watched as she poured milk into the bowl, her tension and coldness about this strange. "People love victims."
"But you're not a victim, Olive."
