Page 81 of The Grump I Got Stuck With

“Is Daddy going to say goodnight?” Kenna asked, clutching Princess to her.

“I bet he will when he gets back,” I said, tucking the comforter around them both. I smiled so as not to give away my concern. Alistair hadn’t exactly said when he’d be back, but I’d expected him home before I had to put Kenna to bed for the evening. I’d even let her stay up a little longer than usual, waiting for him to arrive, but so far there’d been no sign of him. I didn’t know how long it took to look his ex in the face and tell her she was an asshole, but apparently all friggin’ day.

I ignored the flutter of unease in my gut. I’d intentionally stayed away from social media, wanting to hear from Alistair first. “What story should we read tonight?”

“Princess wants to read mermaids.”

“Mermaids again?”

“It’s her favorite.”

My phone started ringing as I reached for the book on the nightstand. I passed the book to Kenna. “You two start looking at the pictures; I’ll be right back.”

I popped into the hall and pulled my phone from my pocket, swearing under my breath. It was my parents. For a minute, I considered sending them to voicemail. I was already anxious over everything that was going on. Putting up with my parents’ relentless digs and criticisms was the last thing I needed right now.

But on the other hand…they knew what time it was here, and they never called me this late. What if it was an emergency? What if one of them was sick or hurt?

I took a deep breath to brace myself—then I answered the call. “Hello?”

“Pete!” Mom called. “Pete, I’ve got her. Get over here.” I could hear my dad shuffling toward the phone. I must have been on speaker.

“Hi, hon,” he said.

“Hey. Is everything okay?”

“We should be the ones asking you that,” Mom said. “We’ve been flooded with calls all afternoon.”

I frowned. “Calls from who?”

“The Crown & Co., The London Daily, The Royal Mirror, London Star,” Dad said, listing them off. “Basically every British tabloid. Madison, what is going on over there?”

I pressed my hand to my forehead. Holy crap. How had the media…the landline! Of course. My parents still had a listed landline, making it a lot easier for the press to track down than my cell.

“It’s not just the media over there,” Mom clarified. “It’s local journalists too. Friends. Family. Everyone’s been in touch with us about you apparently getting tangled up with some Scottish tech billionaire.”

“I’m not tangled up with him,” I muttered. It was so much more than that, and I had no desire to get into it right now.

Mom huffed. “The press are already asking the neighbors for comments! Can you believe it? We need to know what mess you’ve gotten yourself into this time so we can figure out how to get you out of it.”

Fuck. I rubbed the bridge of my nose. The last thing I needed was my parents in my business. It’s not that I thought they would deliberately leak information to the media. But they loved being judgmental about what they saw as the series of bad choices I’d made since reaching adulthood, and anything I told them was bound to be twisted to fit their worldview and then shared with everyone they knew. And any of those people could conceivably go to the press. Discretion was for the best.

“I’m not involved in anything. Really, it’s not a big deal. I promise. Remember that run of bad weather that left me stranded in Braeburn around Christmas?” When I’d called them back then, I’d told them I was snowed in but safe. I hadn’t bothered to update them when I realized who Alistair was or when I’d accepted the nanny position because I knew how judgmental they’d be of my decision. “Well, I got work as Alistair’s nanny so I could pay for the repairs to the van.”

“Yes,” Mom agreed with a tone. “The journalist said as much. I love learning from the media that my daughter has let her paralegal career lapse so she could nanny for some problematic billionaire.”

I bristled. Of course that’s what she was really upset about. She didn’t care if I actually needed help, only about the optics. She didn’t like that she had to answer questions about her daughter “the nanny” instead of her daughter “the paralegal.” My hand tightened around the phone.

“Maybe this is a sign that this silly trip has gone on enough,” Dad said. “Why don’t you come home and get back to your real life? We’ll buy your ticket home if you need it.”

My real life? Just because my current occupation didn’t align with their vision for me didn’t mean I wasn’t living my real life.

“Ryan was asking after you,” Mom said, sending my thoughts flying in a completely different direction.

“Apparently he’s single again,” Dad added. “Maybe the two of you could give it another shot.”

God, no! He’d treated me like trash—there was no way I was giving him another chance. And frankly, it ticked me off that even after the guy had broken my heart, my parents still propped him up on a pedestal just because he had a career path they respected. I’d only ever pushed to make that relationship work in the first place because of how badly I’d wanted to please my parents. But that wasn’t me anymore, chasing after them for approval. I was on my own path now. Maybe I wasn’t completely sure where it led, but I was staying on it until I found what made me feel happy. Loved. Accepted. Things I’d given up on finding with my parents. “I’m not talking to Ryan.”

“Certainly not while you’re still bumming around Scotland,” Mom said. “Landing yourself on the cover of a bunch of garbage tabloids.”