Page 92 of The Grump I Got Stuck With

But I’d only known one way to protect myself and Kenna. I thought I was making the right decision by locking down and shoving everyone aside. I hadn’t had a community in London to back me the last time. I hadn’t been able to trust anyone. But Braeburn was different. It had always been different, and I should have known this community would band together to protect me and Kenna. I should have relied on my friends and clung to the people who wanted to be there for me.

Instead, I’d pushed them all away.

I’d pushed Madison away when I should have been holding her like a lifeline in a storm.

I clenched my jaw to keep the emotion at bay, finally realizing how wrong I’d been. Not everyone was out to get me. There were people in this world who’d chosen me.

People who’d already proven repeatedly that they could be trusted.

I just had to give them the chance—and hope it wasn’t too late.

28

MADISON

Idrove toward a group of media vans parked on the road at the edge of the Dunhope property, each one splashed with the logos of different tabloids and websites. Their antennae rose into the sky like jagged little mountain peaks.

Upon spotting me, a group of reporters perked up like tigers at the zoo when the handlers brought out the raw meat, their breath fogging in the early March air. Casually dressed camera operators hoisted filming equipment onto their shoulders while those more formally dressed picked up their microphones, primed for an interview.

I drove past without even a glance of acknowledgment. The first few times I’d made this trek, they’d attempted to jump out in front of me and knock on my windows. I hadn’t given them what they’d wanted—a reaction—and eventually they’d stopped being so brazen. But they still got their two minutes of footage every morning without fail, capturing me winding my way up the long drive to Dunhope.

I didn’t know what was so special about watching the nanny or the housekeeper come and go from the property, but they weren’t getting anything out of Alistair, so I supposed they had to make a fuss where they could.

Florence had taken to honking obnoxiously at them every time she pulled up, drowning out whatever the reporters were trying to say into their cameras. It would be amusing if it weren’t so frustrating. I pulled up alongside the house and hopped out of the van, resisting the urge to turn back and scowl at those beady black lenses.

I made my way inside, said hello to Florence in the kitchen, and found Kenna sprawled out on her stomach in the playroom, twenty minutes into a doggy makeover. Even though I’d moved out of the house, I didn’t have the heart to take Princess with me.

Kenna was struggling under the lockdown rules, and I didn’t want to contemplate what it would do to her emotionally if she couldn’t have Princess as her constant companion. Thankfully, that was one thing Alistair and I agreed on. He’d set up a doggy potty area in what constituted as the mudroom and had ordered all the doggy food and treats she could possibly eat and more.

It wasn’t unusual for me to arrive to find Kenna and Princess engrossed in an activity, but this one was sparklier than most. She’d set Princess on a pillow and was in the process of adorning her fur with hair jewels using the hair stamper she’d gotten for Christmas.

That…was not good. “Hey, Ken,” I said as I drew closer, trying to force a smile even as my teeth instinctively clenched. This was going to be an absolute nightmare to get out later. What if we had to shave Princess? Then she’d actually look like a rat. “How about we take a break from bedazzling the dog and go down for breakfast?”

She rolled over, blinking up at me with a lazy smile. “I’m not hungry yet.”

“You’re not hungry?” I said. “Not even for some chocolate chip pancakes?” Her eyes lit up. “Pretty sure I saw Florence putting a big plate of them on the counter. Shall we go see?”

Kenna bounded to her feet, racing right by me. “I want chocolate chips!”

“Of course you do.”

Princess went scurrying after her down the hall, reflecting the light like a disco ball. I heard a soft chuckle from behind me and turned to find Alistair standing there, grinning at the sight of the two of them.

“Should I even ask?” he said.

“Probably best you don’t unless you want to be the one removing all those jewels from Princess to keep from having to shave her,” I quipped, starting to smile at him before catching myself. Shit. I knew better, but my heart and my head were often at odds these days. Collecting myself, I gave him a polite nod, as I would any employer, and set off in the direction of Kenna’s giggles.

“Madison?” Alistair called. “Hang on a second.”

I paused, swallowing the lump in my throat before turning around. “Yes?”

He closed the distance, and I tried not to let my eyes roam. Because past that devastatingly handsome face, I could see the toll the press frenzy was taking on him, and all I wanted to do was wrap my arms around his waist and smooth the dark circles from beneath his eyes. But that wasn’t my place anymore.

“Alfie sent me a link yesterday to a video of the media coverage in Braeburn.” He cleared his throat, curling his hands awkwardly at his sides when they used to reach for me so easily. “I just wanted to thank you for the things you said and…didn’t say.”

“Of course.” A line formed between my brows. I didn’t need to be thanked for being a decent human being in this situation. Sure, Alistair and I hadn’t worked out as a couple, but I still wanted the best for him and Kenna, and that was a life free of hounding and miserable lies being blasted through the tabloids. “Though I haven’t been the only person speaking up for you.”

“That’s true,” he agreed.