They all moved back to the side and sat down again to tell the whole story. There was much more to Quentin’s obsession than Nally knew about. Jude did most of the talking, and as he did, Nally’s emotions ran the gamut from fear to fury. Jude had kept everything from him, and now Nally felt completely exposed and in danger retroactively.
“We’ll do what we can,” Bryant said once all the information was out in the open, “but it’s difficult to do much more than issue an injunction against the man contacting you until he has committed actual, physical assault.”
“That’s it?” Jude demanded incredulously. “You can’t arrest him or do more to keep him away from Nally?”
Bryant shrugged. “According to what you’ve reported and the texts you’ve shown me, he hasn’t made any threats against Mr. Hawthorne’s life or person. He hasn’t mentioned violence at all, just eager intent.”
“The man terrifies me,” Nally said, peeking at Jude to show him just how much.
“If you believe his attention could escalate into violence,” Bryant said, “I suggest you lay low or take yourself out of harm’s way.”
“That’s all?” Jude asked. “We should stay indoors and hide under blankets until Quentin gets bored and goes away?”
Nally’s skin prickled. Quentin was after him, not Jude, but Jude had lumped the two of them together. Nally had no idea whether he liked that or hated it.
“Like I said,” Bryant said, “Unless there has been an explicit threat of violence or some kind of action, we don’t have grounds for arrest. If the LSO chooses to go after him for trespassing, that’s one thing, but since you don’t own this property, Mr. Hawthorne, the issue would be between Mr. Quentin and the LSO.”
“Unbelievable,” Jude hissed, throwing himself back in his seat.
Nally felt a deeper doom. “I guess if that’s all you can do,” he said quietly.
“For now, it is,” Bryant said. “If things escalate, you can call us and make a full report. But like I said, if it was me, I would use this opportunity to go on a long vacation abroad until it all blows over.”
Bryant stood, and there was another round of hand-shaking. Sir Antonio and the rest of the orchestra was impatient to finish the recording session, so instead of confronting Jude andfiguring out what they needed to do next, Nally was dragged back into the world of music. His head wasn’t in the game, though. In fact, he didn’t even know which way was up anymore.
TEN
There had beentimes in his life when Jude had regretted his actions, but he’d never felt anything like the guilt that pressed down on him as he watched Nally struggle on with recording for the LSO. He was still amazing, of course, but the magic that had been there for that first piece was completely gone.
And it was all his fault.
“I should have said something about Quentin’s DMs,” he told Nally in a gloomy voice when they finally wrapped the recording session, said their goodbyes, and made their way out to the parking lot, where Jude’s scooter waited. “I am absolutely in the wrong for not mentioning anything.”
“Yes, you are,” Nally said without looking at Jude. He was too busy glancing all around as they left LSO St. Luke’s, looking for Quentin, no doubt.
Nally didn’t say anything else as they donned their helmets and climbed on the scooter. The only thing that kept Jude from screaming his way out of his skin was the tight hold Nally kept on him as they zoomed back to Mayfair. Nally was furious withhim, and with good cause, but the way he held on to Jude felt like he was clinging desperately to the last shreds of their friendship.
Don’t let go. The words buzzed around his head as they approached Cranleigh House.Please, don’t ever let go.
“The two of you look as though you’ve been to Timbuktu and back, and you did not enjoy yourselves,” Jude’s dad commented when they slumped their way into the kitchen from the back courtyard.
“Don’t even ask,” Jude said, going straight to the counter and clicking the kettle on. It might have been stupidly British of him, but he needed a tea.
His dad didn’t ask, but Nally answered anyhow. “Turns out I have a stalker from social media who Jude didn’t warn me about,” he said, accusation sharp in his tone.
Jude said nothing, but he caught the look of shock and incredulity from his dad, who stared at him as if he, too, thought everything was Jude’s fault. “A stalker?” he asked.
Jude reached up for two mugs from the hooks under the cabinets, took two bags of tea from the jar for the cups, and popped the lid off the sugar bowl and put one cube each in the mugs. But he couldn’t avoid the accusations, his guilt, and, oh yeah, the other gigantic elephant in the room, his feelings for Nally, forever.
He turned, slumped against the counter, and sighed before saying, “I tried to handle an overzealous fan on my own, but that was a terrible idea.” Jude’s dad looked between him and Nally, who had moved to the perpendicular counter to bring down the tin of biscuits from the shelf where it lived, like he lived there, too. “This guy, Quentin, first spoke to Nally at the film premiere. Then at a club where we were dancing. He’s sent a few messages and showed up where we’ve been a few times.”
“Nally, I’m so sorry,” Jude’s dad said. “Are you alright?”
“No,” Nally answered, then shoved a custard cream in his mouth so he didn’t have to say anything else.
“It’s all my fault,” Jude went on, taking all the blame but feeling like he deserved to take more. “Nally’s been under pressure, so I wanted to protect him. But Quentin showed up at the LSO and caused a scene, and now we think he’s in real danger.”
“Go to the police,” Jude’s dad said, expression still one of shock.
