Page 57 of The Pucking Grump

Because I am facing a conundrum in my head.

“You really . . . had . . . sex . . . with her back there?” my sister asks, her eyes popping out of her skull. She seems too shocked to even express disgust about talking about my sex life.

“Say it louder, will you?” I say, as another assistant bustles past us, shooting me an evil eye.

“Sorry,” she whispers, clamping her hand over her mouth. She looks like she’s about to burst out laughing. “It’s just . . . wow. And she’s over there singing her lungs out like she’s got no care in the world. That’s amazing.”

I glance at the stage, where Faye is singing a new song—one that, thankfully, has nothing to do with romance. I try not to look too hard, though, because she’s switched the jumpsuit for a miniskirt, and I’m damn sure it’s going to be a lot easier to fuck her with that on than it was with the?—

“Can you hear me, Blake?”

I blink, returning back to the present where my little sister is looking at me with her brows knotted.

“Yeah,” I say, almost snapping. Britney is being as helpful as she possibly can, but I’m still upset with myself. Somehow, I walked into this venue knowing that I had to break things off with Faye, and I’m going to walk out after having waited until the end of the show for an opportunity to screw her . . . again.

“I understand this is hard,” she says. “Alex and Ken are not going to be happy when they hear you didn’t break up with her.”

“Thanks for telling your husband about my personal life, by the way,” I say, recalling that unfortunate little detail.

Brit pulls a face of contrition. “He was worried about you.”

“You mean they were amused by me.”

“No,” she insists. “Worried. I mean, all of them know how much you dislike popstars. The next thing we knew, you’re in a relationship with Faye Strummer. It made no sense. Alex was relieved when he found out it was fake.”

“I don’t believe you, but we’re going to file that discussion for later.” I’m not going to say it out loud, but all I want is for Brit to help me figure out why it’s so hard to let Faye go.

“You ever think of Dad?” Britney asks, startling me.

“Since he’s still alive, no, not too much.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m serious. Do you ever think of him? Of how his weird relationship with women might have influenced your outlook on life?”

I stare at her. “I cannot believe you just said that.” But I remember thinking along those lines for a moment there at the cabin, wondering if our father’s perception of women had affected me. But even then, I pulled up blank.

“I’m just saying . . .”

“I know your husband might have gotten you confused, but there still are a lot of people who don’t believe in romance. And it’s not because of some traumatic experience or?—”

“I’m not saying you have hidden trauma,” Brit cuts in. “Just . . . Dad’s belief system messed me up, a whole lot. You might want to consider his impact on you, too.”

I let out an exhale, reminding myself that Brit means well. “Thanks, but that’s not why I asked you to come up here.” The real reason is much more embarrassing.

The crowd goes up in a mighty cheer, and I watch as Faye beams at them. There’s a distinct burning in my chest as I watch her smile. I want to tell myself that all I’m longing for is to have her back in my arms so I can fuck her silly.

But damnit, that’s not all. And I know it.

“You know what?” Brit says now. “Screw your friends.”

I raise a brow. “You’re talking about your husband.”

“Yeah, even him,” she says. “Screw what they think, and what they believe you should do. This whole thing is confusing. I can’t imagine what this feels like for you. So don’t focus on what anyone is saying. Just do what feels right.”

I open my mouth to argue, but then I realize her advice is the best I’ve heard in a while. Perhaps I spent too long overthinking what I feel for Faye and what it means.

Maybe I just need to live.

Faye starts her next song, a slow number about flowers blooming, just as Kevin hurries up beside us, holding a huge bouquet.

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