Page 60 of The Pucking Grump

What the hell are we doing?

Are we in a real relationship, and I haven’t gotten the memo? Apart from Ben, I’ve never really dated anyone, so I’m not exactly an expert at how to navigate this.

All I know is that asking Blake terrifies me.

“Look,” Kevin says after I remain silent for a whole minute, “I care about you, and I care about Blake too. I’ve known you both for a long time. But . . . I just think some boundaries are important.”

“We have boundaries.” I sound defensive, and I know it, but I can’t help it.

“Yeah, sure.” Kevin sounds like he’s not buying it. “But maybe you could stand to enforce them more?” He hesitates for a beat. “I know I’m just your agent, but I’ve known Blake since he became a Philly Flyer. And he’s just not a relationship kind of guy . . . no matter what impression you might be getting.”

His words hit me like a hatchet. I rearrange my features into a placid look. “I know that,” I say. “I’m not interested in a relationship, either.”

Another feeling gnaws at me, one that feels too much like denial.

Do I want Blake and me to be a couple?

I think back to the interview, how nervous I was after realizing Blake made me feel good, all the time. Not just when we are in bed. From the moment he caught me as we both fell to the ground, I knew something about him was different. There’s a safety and a joy with Blake that I haven’t found anywhere else.

Being apart from him the week before the show was torture, but it was also freeing. It meant I could unpack my feelings and push them to the far corner of my mind. In that time, I almost managed to convince myself that Blake and I were not real. I even managed to suppress how good it felt being together in the cabin. It was the only reason I was able to sing a bunch of songs that didn’t reference Blake or romance at all.

But then he showed up and made love to me. And came up on stage. Since then, we are on a roll, either texting or fucking.

Blake has no idea, but every single thing he has done this past week has been straight out of a fantasy of mine. And I cannot pretend it’s not registering. Nor can I pretend that a part of me has started to assume—or hope—that Blake has shifted his stance on romance.

“We should get back to what we were discussing,” Kevin says when I remain silent. “I was asking you about an album release. Your fans are clamoring for one, and we need to start working on it, and fast. A couple of studios have reached out. I know you haven’t decided who you’re going to work with, but I really think that this?—”

My phone starts to ring, jarring in the near silence. I jump again. Even with Kevin’s little pep talk, a part of my brain goes haywire imagining it’s Blake who’s calling. But when I stand up and reach for the phone, I see the number is an unsaved one.

Kevin looks annoyed, but he stands up too. “I’ll let you take that.”

I press the phone to my ear just as he walks out. A part of me is still trilling with the thought that this is Blake, and that he’s calling me with a different number to surprise me. I know Kevin is right, and I need to be more careful. But I can’t help feeling this way.

“Hello, Faye.”

Every ounce of excitement dissipates from my body, and the darkest of fears grows in its place.

“Hi, Dad.” I’m careful to maintain an even tone, to not betray the way I’m feeling. I remember our last conversation, where he assured me that I would have to come running back to him.

But he was wrong. The opposite has happened, in fact. My followers have increased in number, and judging from Kevin’s desperation, they’re all waiting for a new album.

Everything is fine.

So why do I still feel scared?

“Looks like things are looking up for you.” He doesn’t sound the tiniest bit pleased.

“Yeah.” I look around to make sure Kevin is not listening. “I no longer have to be your puppet, for one.”

“Don’t be so sure of that.”

Even if I know he’s just bluffing, a slight tremble runs down my arm. “Oh, I am.”

“Really?” He sounds sarcastic. “Because you’ve got yourself in a new relationship so your fans can throw themselves into the fantasy you keep creating?”

There’s a tug of pain in my heart even after all this time. For a brief second, I wish I had the kind of father who would be happy for his daughter.

“I have a way better life than the one I had with you.” I know he doesn’t care about me, but I still hope it hurts. “Goodbye, Dad.”

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