Page 47 of Stitch
“You’re a fucking psycho!”
I shrugged, and reached into the camper for my phone, before I strolled over to the only car parked near us.
“This yours? Nice… apart from the dent justhere.” I slammed my boot into the front wing, and grinned as it buckled slightly.
“Ah fuck, man, not my car!”
I took a picture of the number plate, then a picture of him.
“I can find you anytime now. Bear that in mind.”
Cammy
He was out therefor a while, and when he came back he looked calm, and happy. Was happy the right word? Exhilarated perhaps, but I didn’t know what he’d done, or what had happened to the guy he’d dragged away.
I’d heard some noise against the side of the motorhome, and then they’d fallen quiet, so I took the time to try and stop dying of shame. Why did I pull over in this particular spot? Why did that creepy guy pull over here?
“Sorry, wifey. Sounds like thisisa popular dogging spot.” I groaned and hid my face again.
“I’m mortified!”
Stitch laughed. “Shall I add dogging to the list, so we can tick it off?”
“Stop! It’s not funny! He could have seen me half naked.”
“I would never let that happen, Camille. I made sure I was all he could see. Besides, right now he’s wishing he hadn’t even approached us.”
“Did you hurt him?”
Stitch shrugged. “He’s only gonna be capable of watching people for a while, but I think he’ll think twice about who he sneaks up on in future.”
Twenty-Six
Honestly, so far Ihad been having the best time on our honeymoon, but Camille was edgy since the incident with the dogger, and protested, every time I tried to touch her, once we’d found a place to park up for the night. We paid the fee and found an available spot, and then she shut herself in the bathroom.
“Camille, are you okay in there?”
“No, of course I’m bloody not.”
Hell. She’d gone quiet on me as we’d been driving, ever since I’d taken over, but I figured she was just enjoying the drive. I wasn’t fond of driving this bloody house on wheels. I wanted to be on my fucking bike, and I wanted to be showing her the world from the best fucking ride in the world. Shit happens, and I’m learning that adapting to that shit is how we survive it.
“Come on, darlin’, that guy’s long gone, and he won’t dare even think about what he saw.”
She was quiet, so I figured I’d leave her a few minutes to calm down, while I scoped out the contents of the cupboards in the kitchen part of the camper. There was some food, but nothing for us to cook a meal with. It was approaching early evening, so I dug out my phone and looked for the very nearest pub, finding one a ten minute walk away.
“Camille? I’ve found somewhere we can go to eat. Means you’ll eventually have to come out of the sodding bathroom though, babe.”
The door opened and she glared at me.
“Is this your idea of making things up to me?”
I grinned cheekily at her.
“Is it working? Look, wifey, I know that things didn’t go as planned back there, but don’t let it ruin our honeymoon for you. We can do anything we like while we’re away. We can tick things off our lists, and we can add new things as they occur to us. We can live, and pretend that reality doesn’t even exist. We’re married. I mean, fuck, we’re newlyweds. We’re supposed to be rocking this fucking camper like the deviant buggers we are.”
“But we can’t do that, Stitch.”
“Call mehusband.”
