So I Married a Rockstar

Chapter Thirty-Six

Ch.36: The Woman in Black

Digger made no difference to the calls, texts, and letters that the stalker sent, but having him around the loft did make me feel better.

After a week, I still hadn't gone back to work and Samantha hadn't contacted me to ask when I might be back, which made me more certain than ever that my job was gone, but somehow that didn't scare me like it might once have done. A month ago, I'd been desperate to cling to that job, even though I hadn't particularly enjoyed it, because my breakup with Jake had meant I was barely able to financially support myself. Losing my job would have been catastrophic.

But things were different now. Even if Jude and I went our separate ways he wouldn't kick me out and leave me with nothing. The only downside was that I didn't know what I wanted to do with myself now. I didn't have ambitions or talents like Jude, and even when I was younger, I hadn't had any major dreams. I was also nervous about trying to apply for jobs now that I was married to a global rockstar.

People recognised me more and more often when I left the loft, and I quickly learned to hide behind huge sunglasses or ball caps or my hair, both so I was harder to recognise and so that when I was recognised, there was less chance of headlines critiquing my skin, my makeup, or my expression.

Jude had raised the suggestion of bodyguards, but I hated the thought of being shadowed wherever I went. Besides, Don was only ever a phone call away, and he was big enough to double as a bodyguard if necessary.

As days went past, I got used to strangers asking me for photos in the street, and the click and flash of cameras and phones taking paparazzi shots when I wasn't looking. I still wasn't exactly comfortable with it, but this was life with Jude; I had to acclimate to it.

Tasha didn't always agree.

"Some things you shouldn't have to get used to," she hotly declared over the phone, while I was walking Digger one morning.

"Maybe not, but I chose this when I agreed to stay married to him," I said.

"I was thinking more of the stalker than the press. I still don't get why the police can't do anything," Tasha said.

I paused while Digger investigated a tuft of grass poking up through a pavement crack. "What are they supposed to do? The texts and calls come from different numbers, and the letters are all hand-delivered. Any time something physical happens, like a brick through a window, whoever's behind it is careful to hide their face so they can't be identified. The police have nothing to work with."

Tasha made a disgruntled noise.

"Can we please talk about something else?" I asked.

I wanted to chat with my sister and walk my dog without getting that sick, hollow feeling in my stomach whenever I thought of the stalker. And I didn't want Tash to hear just how much this was affecting me, which she would if we kept talking about it.

"Fine," Tasha said, but she didn't sound happy about it. "When are you going to introduce Jude to Mum and Dad?"

I cringed.

It was crazy that they still hadn't met my husband - I knew that - but I no longer had any idea about how they'd react to him. I'd glossed over anything to do with the stalker, but if they followed celebrity gossip, they'd know that things were worse than I'd let on. The fact that they hadn't called me in a panic suggested that they didn't know, but I couldn't keep paranoia from gnawing away at my brain - there was no in hell I was letting some twisted bastard chase me out of this marriage, but the last thing I needed was added pressure from my parents if they thought I was in danger.