So I Married a Rockstar

Chapter Eleven

Ch.11: Breakfast with a Rockstar

Fifteen minutes later, I heard the faint sound of the front door opening – Annie delivering our breakfast. Jude's phone rang at the same time, and he paused, half-out of his seat.

"You get that. I'll sort the food," I said.

My feet felt like they had springs on them as I headed into the loft. Sometimes being here felt like the strangest thing in the world, like I'd fallen into a dream. Other times, the loft was starting to feel like home, like this was where I was supposed to be.

Annie was washing the dishes that we'd left in the sink last night, and she looked up as I came down.

"Good morning," she said, smiling.

Her red hair was pulled into a high ponytail, and a coating of mascara made her eyes pop. Maybe she wasn't as polished as Elle, but there was still something glossy and expensive about her, and I wondered if that came from being in Jude's orbit.

"Morning. You don't have to do that," I said.

"It's no problem. It's why I'm here. You just enjoy your breakfast." Annie fetched a tea towel from a drawer and started drying the plates. I wanted to help, but something told me that she wouldn't appreciate it if I offered.

A large basket sat on the counter – inside was an assortment of warm breakfast pastries, along with fresh berries, tiny jars of jam, and chilled bottles of fruit juice.

My stomach made an appreciative noise.

"Do you want to join us?" I said.

There was more than enough for three.

Annie paused halfway through putting the plates away. "I think Jude would probably prefer some time alone with his wife," she said.

There was something in her voice that I couldn't place – almost like she was telling me off, but not quite. I wasn't sure what to make of it, so I smiled weakly and picked up the breakfast basket.

Tucking it under one arm, I headed back to the roof, but stopped halfway up. Jude's voice drifted down, sharp and tense with anger in a way that I'd never heard before.

"I'm not having this fucking discussion with you again," he said.

A pause, but I couldn't hear what the person on the other end of the phone said.

"You're a real piece of shit, you know that?" Jude said.

Another pause.

"Yeah, and I'm getting really tired of your fucking threats."

My heart stuttered.

That couldn't be the stalker, right?

Even if they'd somehow got Jude's number again, he wouldn't actually talk to them.

Right?

Jude exhaled, and there was a raw, exhausted quality to it that made me want to snatch his phone and throw it off the roof.

"I tried to help you," he snapped. "I did everything I could, and you threw it back in my face, so do not come at me with this shit. I'm never going to give you what you want, so stop fucking calling."

I heard a soft thud that I guessed was him tossing his phone onto a seat.

Tentatively I crept up the steps, and I thought I hadn't made any noise, but Jude either heard or sensed me; he turned around.

His eyes were dark, his mouth pulled into a harsh line, and the way he stood made me think of an animal, backed into a corner.

"Are you okay?" I said, putting down the basket of pastries.