Page 209 of Cross the Line
Eli perches on the counter, watching the two of us intently before he says, “I think it’s time we really do this Lex’s way.”
“What?” I sputter, almost choking on the grape Fin feeds me. “No, we said we wouldn’t?—”
“I know, Baby,” he says with a softness that has his endearment warming through me with a disarming squeeze of my chest. “Here’s the thing, though. I think if we show people more of us, maybe it’ll calm all of this down. They’ll know we’re in this for good and?—”
“They’ll stop trying to find a weak link in our chain,” I finish.
Given the conversation we just had, it makes sense. We double down and make sure Finley’s father—the whole fucking world—knows we’re unbreakable. There’s nothing he can do to tear us apart.
“Won’t that just make the press more intrusive?” Fin asks, trepidation husking her voice. “I don’t want them to stalk me everywhere. What happens if a client gets upset? Summer could decide this is too much.”
“Sweet girl,” Eli coos partway through a mouthful of celery and dip, drawing our girl into him. “More than most people, maybe anyone, Parker and Summer understand what it’s like to have this kind of mania around you.”
“Eli’s right, Lucky.”
“You should see some of the stories about them online.” I look at him in surprise because I can’t picture Mr. Grumpypants searching for dirt on anyone. He shrugs. “I wasn’t going to take Parker up on his offer withoutdoing some research on him, and I had to know our girl was in good hands with Summer. I like to do my research.”
“Christina’s totally right about you hockey heartthrobs. You’re like teenage girls beneath all the brawn.” Finley’s laugh cuts off when he lifts her onto his lap and nips her shoulder hard enough to make her yelp.
“So what’s the plan? What’re we doing?” I ask around a hunk of cheddar.
“What plan?” Lex drops onto the other side of the island and nicks a cup of tea and a mini artichoke-and-meat skewer. “I don’t want you to take matters into your hands again.”
He gives me a pointed look because, after the altercation with Ryker at the training facility, he warned us not to play into his bullshit. Then Eli told him about Parker helping us under the radar, and he looked ready to have an aneurysm. Dad wasn’t happy, either, but he’sDad.
“I think we need to try navigating this your way,” Eli tells him.
“My way was to let Brian and me handle everything. We do the dirty work so your image and reputation aren’t damaged, but the two of you keep flying off the handle and making impulsive moves—” Lex drags in a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as though he’s one sentence away from a migraine.
“I meant about us.” Eli slips off the counter, still holding Finley, when he spins to face Lex. “Maybe we do need to give the press our own narrative to roll with.”
“To roll with?” Lex chuckles at Eli’s casual remark. “I assume you mean that you would finally like to cooperate with your publicity team.”
“Yeah. That.”
“But without going overboard,” Finley adds. “We already have photographers following us and hanging out outside the building, my work…”
“The press are starving babies right now, and until you feed them, they’re not going to leave you alone. They don’t care what you give them, as long as you give themsomething.”
“Like what?” Fin picks at a charred pepper on the antipasto platter.
Lex looks at each of us with a cluck of his tongue. “You set the boundaries, and the publicists and I will do the rest. Unless you guide them, the press will always set the narrative that sells more for them. If you’re defensive, they’ll always assume you have something to hide.”
“We’re not hiding,” I say. “They got photos of us at the New Year’s party, and the team’s socials had a few photos of us at the Christmas party…”
“Share little bits of yourselves. Your interests, your hobbies… Passions… Snippets of your time together. It doesn’t have to be overly personal. It just has to be?—”
“Something,” Eli sighs, looking at me and then at Fin.
“Your socials are great, Jayden,” Lex tells me.
“But?” The look he’s giving me is loaded with a big, fat, annoyingbut. I hate buts unless they’re Finley’s and Eli’s.
“There’s none of this.” He gestures around us, at our home, before his eyes settle on where my hand is resting beside Eli’s on the counter, and while Finley’s still in his arms, her hand is on my forearm. “That’s what people want to see. How it’s possible for the three of you to be in one relationship. What being in that relationship is like. Not all the curiosity is about your sexualities, or even about the physical dynamics. A lot of it is as simple asthat.”
Taking his phone out of his pocket, he snaps a photo. When he shows it to us, he has a warm smile on his face.
It’s a harmless picture of the platters on the counter and our hands in the background. But when he crops it so that only half the platters are showing and our hands are the focal point, it looks intimate.
