Page 70 of Their Greatest Strength

When Jamie saidthat the rest of the information about our engagement was still to be revealed, I wasn’t sure what that really meant. He spoke to the media for a while after his game, and I was selfishly hoping that almost everything had already been explained.

I was very wrong.

My social media presence is fairly minimal. It’s not very fulfilling sharing photos of crowded streets or a selfie in the broken mirror in our old apartment bathroom online, so I’ve simply avoided it altogether. Today, as Jamie sits across me at the kitchen table and posts the photo of us Sadie instructed him to, I’m grateful that I’ve avoided the online world.

His cool five hundred thousand followers react instantly, and I’m so stiff, so stone-like, that I’m worried I’ll break and crumble if I so much as lean a hand on the table.

“This is the easy part, Bandit,” he murmurs.

“The easy part? You think having half a million people comment on our relationship is easy?”

He curls the corner of his mouth. “I like when you call it a relationship, wife.”

I roll my eyes as I let go of the tiniest bit of tension. “Don’t tease me right now. This is serious. They’re going to hate me.”

“Why? There’s nothing to hate. We look great in the picture, and the whole fan-meets-her-hero narrative is going to kill.”

“Did you actually say that you’re my hero? Because I swear?—”

I reach out to snag his phone, but he holds it to his chest before I can, mischief lighting his eyes. “No, I didn’t. But maybe I should have.”

“At least they chose the photo with my face hidden.”

It’s a good photo. At least it is if you don’t know that I was only hiding my face in his chest because I was freaking out inside and the position was calming amongst the madness of the game.

He sobers slightly. “They won’t all be like that. This is just the beginning. Our engagement photos will be published online too. Which, speaking of, are still scheduled for tomorrow.”

“I know. Your agent was very thorough with his info dump.”

Including the location and when the stylists would be arriving to get me ready. It’s not enough that I’m being dressed by a stranger. A second one will be here to do my hair and makeup as well. I’ve never had any of those things done for me before, and my nerves are more from fear of winding up looking like a version of myself I’ll never be able to replicate on my own than they are anything else.

“Good. I don’t want you to be surprised by anything.”

“Do you prefer hydrangeas or roses?”

Jamie scrunches his brows but goes with it. “Roses.”

“White or yellow?”

“Whichever you prefer.”

“Silk or satin?”

“Are you just trying to get away with not making any wedding decisions, Blakely?” he asks coyly.

I cradle my forearm on the edge of the table. “It isn’t fair thatthe bride should have to choose everything for a wedding. It’s not the Stone Age.”

“You’re right.”

“I know I am. So, silk or satin?”

“I’ll choose the fabric, but you’re in charge of the colours. I’ve always been shit at that stuff,” he barters.

I take in the smoothness of his features and hold his warm gaze. Jamie has to be the easiest-going guy out there, and I’m learning quickly that I don’t hate that as much as I thought I would.

While he’s not someone you can walk all over, he’s also not the type of guy who turns everything into an argument. When I ask his opinion on something, he gives it while simultaneously not pushing one way or another. There’s room for discussion on everything, and he’ll sit and listen to my points without judgment or urging me to move quicker.

It’s a far sexier habit than him barking orders and relying on me to make all the decisions that neither of us wants to.

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