Chapter 44
ALEX
Jeeesus! I curl my fingers into the leather seat as the car-service driver screeches to a halt in front of my building. Paparazzi are spread out in superabundance across the manicured lawn.
Apparently, my being gay has taken everyone by surprise.
Who would’ve thought, in this day and age, people would still be affected by it?
Like, who the fuck really cares? Half of the paparazzi are probably gay.
Maybe they should turn their cameras on themselves and leave me and my daughter alone.
Of course, they also believe I came between the marriage of New York’s beloved “power couple.” I’m pretty sure when that inaccurate bombshell landed in their laps, they had a field day.
In a way, I guess I did come between them… just not in the way they think.
I look out into the crowd and catch a glimpse of Emilee and Ana waiting inside the lobby, where the doorman to our building is doubling as security for the girls. Thank God I called ahead to let them know I’d be arriving.
“Hi, Dad,” Emilee mouths through the thick pane of glass as I step out of the car, my eyes locking on hers for a split second.
And then—chaos.
Flashes ignite. Mics are shoved in my face. Reporters shout absurd questions over one another, voices clashing like thunder as I battle my way through the dense population of press.
“Alex, have you always known you were gay?”
“Alex, what does your daughter think of your homosexuality?”
“Alex, will you now become the new representation of the LGBTQ+ community?”
“Alex, where is your boyfriend?”
My steps falter.
“Alex, will you be marrying Elijah?”
Damn it, Alex! Don’t listen to them. Just move. Move.
“Alex, are you in love with Gabriel’s husband?”
I freeze.
I lock eyes with Ana’s through the glass of the lobby doors.
“Alex, are you the reason for the breakup of Elijah’s and Gabriel’s marriage?”
Ana’s face remains impassive as she continues to watch the spectacle unfold.
The endless barrage of questions pounds into me like bullets:
“Alex, will you pose with Elijah on the cover of Gay Erotica?”
My eyes slide away from Ana’s and over to Emilee.
“Alex, will you be adopting Elijah and Gabriel’s daughter?”
My brain short-circuits. Loses all connection to my body. I stand motionless, in this sea of paparazzi, watching Ana reach out and grab a hold of my daughter’s hand. She pushes past the distracted doorman and then they’re on the move—headed my way.
Cameras pivot in their direction as they fight through swarms of paparazzi. Lights flare like a storm overhead. And I still can’t move a goddamn muscle.
“Keep moving!” Ana shouts, voice slicing through the chaos.
Together, the girls weave through endless waves of media, eyes locked on me—the unmoving figure in the center of the fucking storm.
“Alex!” An eager reporter cuts through the noise, louder than the rest. “Are you doing the ‘gay thing’ just to boost your career?”
Wow. Low blow.
I make an effort to return their fire, but my voice is just as defiant as my fucking legs.
Goddamn it!
It all becomes too much—the noise, the flashing white lights, snapping of cameras, never-ending chatter of paparazzi. I should be used to this. This fiasco comes hand in hand with my modeling career. I’m familiar with it all—really, I am.
Just not today.
Today is different. Today feels like I’ve been thrown into a war zone. My legs don’t feel like they belong to me anymore. The chaos around me is now erupting inside me. I’m a stranded man on an island of havoc—a man caught in the eye of a storm; chaotic thoughts burdening an already burdened brain.
Amid the chaos, one final thought pierces through—a trembling echo of my broken heart, lying tear-soaked on an elevator floor, just a few miles away.
Ana reaches me first, flinging her arm around my waist, but I feel nothing. Not a goddamn thing.
“Mr. J, walk with me!” she shouts, trying to jolt me into motion. Emilee appears at my other side, taking my hand and sending a shockwave of sensation through my otherwise fruitless form. My veins begin to bounce. Muscles in my legs twitch.
Thank fuck.
“Alex, do you think it’s cool to be gay?”
Emilee tightens her grip on my hand, and Ana pulls on my shirt.
We’ve stopped moving.
I glance at Ana. Her eyes are locked onto the reporter with the stupid question, narrowed and unblinking. Then, unexpectedly, a smile replaces her furious frown.
She squares her shoulders, clears her throat, and sasses into the mic. “Well, aside from being a fashion model, which is totally fucking cool, I guess being gay would be the next coolest thing.”
Laughter erupts from the crowd like thunder rolling across a stormy sky.
I stare at her, wide-eyed.
All eyes are on her now as we once again begin moving.
But not for long.
Microphones are shoved in her face, like punches being thrown in a fight.
“Ana, would you like to comment on your dad dating Alexander Jarrell?”
Emilee’s chin smacks into my shoulder. We’ve stopped. Again. This time, the jolt yanks me out of my trance. I blink, suddenly aware of everything and everyone. It’s like I’m seeing them for the first time.
“My dad thinks Alex is super-hot!” Ana boasts.
The shouting continues—
“Ana, are you cool with having three gay men in your life?”
“Don’t answer that,” I rasp, finally finding my voice.
But she ignores me. Leaning into the microphones, those serious green eyes spark with mischief.
“I’m totally cool with it. Who would have thought I’d end up with not two, but three, gay dads?” Her voice is bold, unwavering—playing the crowd like a pro. A smile as bright as the sun. “I mean, can our family get any gayer?”
Fucking Ana.
Laughter erupts in waves across the packed crowd.
They eat her up.
And so do I.
She’s everything a father should be proud of, and then some.
I watch her, stunned. Awed by the strength in her voice, fire in her eyes.
Confident.
Proud.
Sassy.
Fierce.
Fearless.
Everything Elijah is… and more.
She glances my way, beaming. And in that moment, it hits me—
She captivates me too.
I can’t believe I froze up in front of the cameras.
The girls had been in my direct line of sight. I was almost there, more than halfway to the entrance of my apartment building—when my brain short-circuited. Shut down. Refused to communicate with the rest of my body.
“Alex, where is your boyfriend?”
That was the question that made me stumble.
My boyfriend. Elijah.
I remember Ana’s arm slipping around my waist, Emilee taking the other side, both girls anchoring me. Directing my steps when I couldn’t even think.
And then Ana… Jesus, she took over. Handling the paparazzi like a pro—like her father. Like Elijah. Strong. Unshaken. She fucking owned the crowd.
“Ana, are you cool with having three gay men in your life?”
Nooooo… “Do not answer that,” I told her.
She’s only fifteen. How can you expect a teenager to field a question like that?
But, then again…
“I’m totally cool with it. Who would have thought I’d end up with not two, but three, gay dads? I mean, can our family get any gayer?”
And there you have it—Ana Garcia. Daughter of Elijah and Gabriel Garcia. Flamboyant, full of fire—just like her dads. Right down to the smart-ass smirk she flashed right before turning toward me with that megawatt smile.
Of course, I knew what was coming next.
I waited for it.
Braced myself.
Call it a father’s intuition, call it whatever you want, but there was no doubt in my mind what was coming next.
And sure enough…
She winked.
“Oomph.”
I’m snapped right back to the present, jostled from side to side like I got dropped into the center of a mosh pit at a rock concert. The three of us stumble over each other, making a desperate push toward the curb, where I’m fairly certain my driver has gotten the fuck out of crazy town.
Can’t say I blame him. I would have done the same.
I let go of Ana’s hand and reach for my cell when, out of nowhere, thunderous roars once again erupt from the sea of paparazzi. Blinding white lights explode across the skyline like Tinseltown.
Ugh. What now?
A large hand reaches out from the crowd and yanks Ana tightly against their body.
A moment of panic floods my brain before I’m hit with a familiar voice.
“Alex, get Emilee between us!” Gabriel shouts, looping a protective arm around his daughter.
I jump to attention and grab Emilee, maneuvering her between Ana and me.
Once in place, we bulldoze our way through the overzealous crowd and are finally met by what I assume are hired bodyguards, who form a protected pathway for us to safely make our way over to a shiny black limousine.
A chauffeur opens the door, and Ana climbs in first, with Emilee right behind.
I follow suit, and Gabriel slides in last.
“Where’s Dad?” Ana casually inquires, unaffected by the storm of reporters fighting to get in that final shot. It’s almost humorous how cool and collected she is after a hard dose of reality from the paparazzi. “Papi, can you grab me and Em a soda, please?”
“Sure, sweetheart. Would you like a drink, Alex?” Gabriel grabs two sodas from a slim-style stainless steel fridge and hands them off to Ana. He turns back to me. “I have beer, or I can mix you a drink,” he politely offers, sliding open a cabinet door stocked with top-shelf liquors.
“A beer sounds great.”
He pops the tops off two beers and hands one over.
“Dad’s waiting for us at home, honey,” he finally answers Ana.
Of course he is.
I take a swig of the beer and almost choke on the fizz, as he so casually refers to him and Elijah as an “us.” It takes everything in me, but I shove down the jealousy and aim for neutral.
“So does this limo belong to you?”
Gabriel settles into the seat across from me. “It belongs to Elijah and me, yes.”
Yeah. Should have seen that coming.
“He has three of these in Spain, Dad!” Emilee chimes in from the front of the car.