another piece,” he said, his voice thick with sugar, “and we will be.”
Six Months Earlier
“You guys ready to rock and roll?”
Patrick gave Rich a thumbs-up while Rebecca worked up a queasy smile. She’d been dreading this for days now: their first official “media training” session ahead of Patrick’s Senate-run announcement. Rich had insisted that the training was for both of them—“We’re in the big leagues now, team, it’s a whole new ball game”—but Rebecca knew it was really for her. Everybody already loved Patrick. It was Rebecca who was the problem.
“Okay,” Rich said, spinning around in his chair and clicking his mouse a few times. The screen behind him flashed into life: engagement.
He turned toward her. “Okay, you’re up first. What does this word mean to you?”
“Um. It means . . .” Rebecca’s palms began to sweat. This was ridiculous, she told herself. Absurd. She was a grown woman. She didn’t need to be trained. “It means connection,” she said, as confidently as she could muster.
“Good,” Rich purred. “And how do we connect with people?” His eyes stayed fixed on her.
“By finding common ground, I guess.”
“Exactly!” He smiled at her as if she were a puppy who’d just peed on command. “In order for people to connect to you, they need to know that you share common ground. We’ve done a few focus groups ahead of the announcement, just to get a sense of how people are feeling about the two of you.”
About me, Rebecca thought. You already know how they feel about Patrick. I’m the one that’s the problem.
“I’m going to read out some of the feedback,” Rich said in the soothing tone of a doctor about to give his patient a particularly grim diagnosis. He clicked his mouse a few more times and a new slide appeared.
“‘Cold,’” Rich read aloud. “‘Bitchy.’ ‘Stuck up.’ ‘Californian.’” He lifted his eyes to hers and smiled. “I’m not sure we can do anything about that one. There’s no changing the fact you’re from California.” He couldn’t quite hide his regret. “‘Snobby,’” he continued. “‘Ice princess.’”
“But . . . it’s not true,” Rebecca said. Her voice came out as a bleat. “I don’t think I’m better than anyone else.” In fact, she added silently to herself, these days I think I’m pretty worthless.
“Hey, I know that what that slide says is a load of horseshit. Patrick knows it, too.” Rich leaned forward, elbows on knees, and leveled her with his gaze. “The thing is, it seems like a lot of people think it’s true, and that’s a problem for us. We’ve all seen how the bitchy-wife narrative plays out in the polls. I know we’re in another wave of feminism”—he smirked—“What is it now, the fourth? Fifth? But people still don’t like a ballbuster. You can be smart, sure, but there needs to be some softness there, too.” He flicked back to the first slide, reached up, and tapped the screen with his finger. “Remember what you said about engagement? You need to make a connection. Find common ground.” He leaned forward again. “They need to see that you’re just like them, with the same problems, the same flaws, the same heartaches . . .” His eyes flicked to Patrick, just for a second, but enough to tell her what was coming.
“No,” she said, already shaking her head. She turned toward Patrick, who had the good grace to at least look embarrassed. “Please tell me you didn’t tell him.”
“Now, look,” Rich said, holding up his hands. “Patrick didn’t mean any harm. He was just opening up to me as a friend. He’s been having a tough time dealing with your . . . difficulties, just the same as you.”
She snapped back to him. “Don’t tell me what kind of time I’ve been having. You have no idea what the past eighteen months have been like for me. You have no idea.”
Patrick squeezed her hand. “Sweetheart, please—”
She wrenched her fingers free of his. “Don’t.”
“Hey, hey—let’s not get heated,” Rich said. “We’re all on the same side here. Rebecca, you’re right, I don’t have any idea what you’ve been through, though I’m sure it’s been hell.”
Rebecca softened, just a little.
“See, the thing I’m trying to get at is . . .” Rich stopped. She could see him arranging the words in his head, like tiles in a mosaic. Making sure they all fit together to form an attractive picture. “We have a unique opportunity here. You have an experience to share—an awful experience, a universal