Page 71 of The Man in the Cottage

"That could work. But it needs to be the right post. The right tone." Dave is quiet for a moment, thinking. "Let me make some calls. I know some people who specialize in this kind of thing—reputation management. They can help craft the message."

"Okay."

"And Travis? I'm going to need to talk to Kelly at some point. Get her perspective. Make sure we're all on the same page."

I glance at her again. "She's right here. You can talk to her now."

"Put her on."

I hand the phone to Kelly, who takes it with a raised eyebrow. "Hello?"

I can't hear what Dave is saying, but I watch Kelly's face as she listens. She nods occasionally, asks a few questions, responds with short affirmatives. After a few minutes, she hands the phone back to me.

"He wants to set up a call for tomorrow," she says. "All three of us. To talk strategy."

"Are you okay with that?"

"I'm okay with whatever gets us through this." She stands up and stretches. "I'm going to make more coffee. You want some?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

She pads into the kitchen, and I watch her go, this woman who should be running but isn't. Who could walk away from all of this—the drama, the media, the toxic family—and instead is standing beside me, figuring out how to fight.

I don't deserve her. I've thought that before, but it hits harder now. She's dealing with all of this because of me. Because I couldn't keep my family from reaching her. Because my past keeps bleeding into her present.

But she's still here. She's still choosing this. Choosing me.

I'm going to spend the rest of my life making that choice worth it.

"Hey," Kelly calls from the kitchen. "How do you feel about pancakes?"

"I feel good about pancakes."

"Perfect. Because I need comfort food and you're going to help me make it."

I get up from the table and join her in the kitchen, where she's already pulling ingredients out of cabinets. The laptop stays closed. The story stays out there, doing whatever damage it's going to do. But in here, in this kitchen, in this moment, we're okay.

We're more than okay.

We're a team.

Chapter Twenty-One

Kelly

Nicole, Brit, and Mona show up on Tuesday with wine, snacks, and what Nicole calls "emergency friendship supplies."

I didn't ask them to come. I told Nicole I was fine, that Travis and I had a plan, that I was handling it. She texted back: We're coming anyway. Be there by 6.

That was four hours ago. Now we're in my living room, spread across the couch and floor, two empty wine bottles on the coffee table and a third one open. The fire is going—Travis came over this morning to build it before he left for a call with Dave—and the house feels warmer than it has in days.

"Okay," Brit says, scrolling through her phone. "The Reddit thread has mostly died down. The top comment now is someone saying the whole thing is obviously a family dispute and people should mind their own business."

"That's progress," Mona says. "Yesterday the top comment was calling Kelly a succubus."

"A succubus?" I almost choke on my wine. "That's a bit dramatic."

"The internet is nothing if not dramatic." Nicole refills my glass. "But Brit's right. It's dying down. The news cycle is moving on."