Page 39 of The Pucking Grump

I nod, more confused than anything. Blake drives us back to the store while we remain in complete silence. Only when I see him disappear through the store’s doors do I start to ponder why I’m so confused.

I don’t care about the fact that someone almost released a picture of us to the entire world. I knew the risk when I decided to come.

Something else is bothering me.

Blake.

He comes back in a short while carrying two bags. He dumps them in the back seat. I catch a suspicious item peeking out.

“You got a cell phone?”

His lips are drawn in a thin line. “It’s for the best. Need to make sure that punk really doesn’t have the photo backed up or something.”

The silence is even more tense when we get back to the cabin. I’d expected today to go on like the past three days, where we divided our time between eating and lovemaking. Now Blake powers on the phone as I set about unpacking the groceries, my mind still a frazzled mess.

Why the hell am I so bothered about him being nice? Sure, I’ve had a rough childhood and I’ve never really felt true love, but that’s no reason to freak out.

Maybe I’m concerned about him being nice and protective, while also being a great lay.

Maybe I’m bothered about the fact that I’m now spending most of my days with someone who is shaping up to be the man of my dreams.

As an avid romantic, that’s about my worst nightmare. Especially since said man has completely sworn off romance many times in my presence.

The landline starts ringing, the shrill sound slicing through the quiet. Blake throws a dismissive look toward the clamorous intruder.

“Just leave it,” he mutters with a hint of irritation. “Likely just one of my friends.”

Yet, the ringing insists, its relentless, sharp trills cutting persistently through the still air, refusing to be silenced. By the tenth time, he’s stalking over and pressing the receiver to his ear.

“What?” he snaps.

I have no idea what the other person is saying, but I watch as the color drains from Blake’s face. He nods mutely and then replaces the receiver.

My heart is in my throat now. “What? Who was that?”

“My sister.” A vein pops in his forehead as he walks over to the new cellphone and powers it on. “She asked me to check X.”

“He released the pictures?”

“Not exactly.” Blake is pressing buttons on the phone at maximum speed. Finally, he looks up at me. “But someone else saw us. And they released a video.”

14

THE SHOW MUST GO ON

Newsflash: When you think things can’t get worse, they definitely, definitely can.

I stare down at the phone. It’s been seven hours, and my fingers are cramping up, but I can’t stop myself from scrolling through the hundreds of posts pouring in every few seconds. The reaction to the video is nothing short of epic. I couldn’t look away if I tried, even if all the posts are negative and strike me deeper than my dad’s betrayal ever did.

“Disappears from a multi-million-dollar ceremony on the DAY OF HER WEDDING and is found kissing another man a week after? Talk about a dozen red flags.”

“Lol even her brainwashed fans can’t defend her now. What sort of h*e would do this when her father and her fiancé have been crying on national TV for days, begging her to come home?”

“I don’t know what sort of sex she’s having with this guy, but I sure hope it’s worth losing a career AND a marriage for.”

“Singers are notoriously stupid, but Faye Strummer has to be the most stupid one of them all. Like, seriously, how dumb is this broad?”

“Gotta say, I’m disappointed in X tonight. It’s been HOURS and no one has been able to figure out the identity of the dude she was with. Come on guys, step on it!”

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