Page 70 of The Man in the Cottage

I think about it. A picture of us. A statement without being a statement. Letting people see what my family doesn't want them to see—that Kelly isn't a gold digger, that I'm not being controlled, that we're just two people who found each other.

"We could do that," I say slowly.

"And then we see how it goes. If it helps, we do more. If it makes things worse, we pull back." She squeezes my hand. "The point is, we stop being passive. We stop letting them dictate the terms."

"When did you become a PR strategist?"

"I worked in marketing for six years. I know how narratives work." She smiles, just a little. "Also, I've been stress-reading crisis management articles since yesterday. Apparently there's a whole industry built around this."

I laugh despite myself. "Of course there is."

"The point is, we have options. We're not powerless here." She pulls my hand toward her and presses a kiss to my knuckles. "Whatever we decide, we decide together. Okay?"

"Okay."

We sit there for a moment, the morning light streaming through the windows, the laptop closed between us. The story is still out there, still spreading, but somehow it feels smaller now. More manageable. Like something we can actually fight.

"I should call Dave," I say.

"Your agent?"

"Yeah. He needs to know what's happening. And he might have ideas—contacts in the media, ways to get our side of the story out." I pull out my phone. "He's been dealing with my PR disasters for years. This is just one more."

"Is he good?"

"He's very good. He's also going to be furious that I didn't tell him about you sooner."

"Why?"

"Because he's been trying to get me to do a redemption arc for months. Humanize myself, show the public I'm more than the guy who punched a photographer." I shake my head. "He's going to say you're exactly what I needed. A relationship, a love story. Something positive to shift the narrative."

"That's very calculated."

"That's the business. But it doesn't make it less true." I look at her. "You are what I needed. Just not for the reasons he'll think."

Kelly's expression softens. "Call your agent. Let's see what he says."

I dial Dave's number. He picks up on the first ring.

"Travis. I was wondering when you'd call." His voice is tight. "I assume you've seen the news."

"Yeah. That's why I'm calling."

"I've been getting calls all morning. Outlets wanting comment, wanting to know if the story's true. I've been saying no comment, but that's not sustainable." He pauses. "Is it true? Are you dating this woman?"

"Her name is Kelly. And yes, I'm dating her."

"Jesus, Travis." I can picture him pinching the bridge of his nose. "You couldn't have mentioned this to me? Given me some warning before I had to find out from a gossip site?"

"I know. I'm sorry. I wanted to keep it private."

"Private doesn't exist for you anymore. You should know that by now." He sighs. "Okay. Okay. We can work with this. A relationship isn't necessarily bad—could actually help your image. But we need to get ahead of the narrative. The gold digger angle is bad. Really bad."

"That's why I'm calling. Kelly and I have been talking about options. She thinks we should go public—control the story instead of letting my family control it."

"She's smart." There's grudging approval in his voice. "What exactly are you thinking?"

I look at Kelly, who nods. "Start small. A post on social media. Something that humanizes us, shows we're real. Then see how it plays."