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Something uncomfortably warm and sloppy rises in my chest. I shrug. “He tolerates me.”
“But you will ask your brothers to stand up for you.”
“Yeah. I will.”
She smiles. “We’re lopsided. You have your five sibs, and I just have Nia.”
“I’ve got Easton, too.”
“Even worse,” she says. “That’s six for you.”
I’m struck by an idea, but before I can suggest that Sonya and Hanna would be happy to stand up on her side, we turn down her street and I spot the first photographer.
19
Shane
I yank the wheel and redirect us down a side street.
“Where are you going?”
“Your house is crawling with paparazzi.”
“Oh.”
“No worries. I’m used to it.”
I turn us toward town and the Depot Hotel. The paparazzi situation will probably be even worse there, but I’d rather lure the action toward me than toward Ivy’s house.
Sure enough, as we approach the hotel, I can see the small but definitely lively crowd outside. I park down a side street, tucking us into a discreet space for a brief strategy session.
“You trust me?” I ask.
“Haven’t we already established that I do?”
“I think last time you told me you didn’t. Or at least you couldn’t give me a blanket yes.”
The dimple deepens in her cheek. “Well. There’s been some water under the bridge since then.”
I reach between us and grab my phone, banging out a couple of quick texts to Tuck. “I’m texting Tucker,” I say. “Because he works in personal security. He stayed in town after Eloise’s christening to help Hanna with some heavy lifting. He can break up the crowd at your house and set up a presence there.”
She nods. “Thanks.”
“How would you feel about vamping for the cameras for a bit? Getting it out of the way? With that and the interviews we have set up for the next few days, we might be able to get them off our backs. It’s only news until everyone’s had their fill.”
She sighs.
“You’ve got this,” I say. “Big smiles, super friendly, zero defensiveness about anything. The next few days’ll be hard, and then it’ll die down. No one will care by this time next week—take my word for it. People’s attention spans are short.”
“Until the wedding.”
“True. Until the wedding.”
She’s quiet, and I glance at her. She still looks worried.
“You really hate it, huh? The spotlight?”
“I love the spotlight when I’m performing. And then I just want to be able to get away from it all the rest of the time. But that’s not how it works.”
