Page 19 of The Interview

“Shall we take a quick break before moving on?” Daniel asks.

“Fuck, yeah,” Marley replies, already standing and pulling off his mic without looking at me.

I watch him walk away, and as I do, I notice Makenzie Wild watching him, one hand on her cocked hip, the other hanging at her side, her camera dangling from it. Her eyes are on his back as he walks straight into Ashley’s open arms before she glances my way. I don’t look away. She may be a rock star princess, but for a lot of years, I was a rock star queen, so I’m not intimidated, more intrigued. I watched a lot of women look at Sean in all kinds of different ways over the years. If they realised I’d clocked them, they either looked away in embarrassment or defiantly stared. Some even shrugged, the want, need, desire apparent in their eyes. Makenzie has none of those things. She’s frowning and blinking rapidly as her eyes move from me then back to my brother.

Confusion? Fascination?

She looks down at her camera and starts pressing and swiping while staring at the viewing window screen thing.

A knot forms in my stomach, and I’ve no idea why.

Cam appears at my side, a Prosecco in his hand and a smile on his lips, despite his dark brows being pulled down into a slight frown.

“You ready for this?”

“The drink, yeah. What’s coming next? Probably not.”

CHAPTER

SEVEN

MARLEY

Why the fuck I said yes to this, I’ll never know.

I was honest with Tori, the biographer bird. Spewing my guts to her was literal therapy, but Georgia wasn’t there for that. Apart from the times I attempted to plead my case when it all first happened, we’ve never actually spoken about it.

I don’t know what she knows because Maca’s not here for me to ask what he told her.

“Fuck you for dying, mate. Fuck you very much,” I say aloud as I lean against the timber handrail that runs around the decking on my sister’s property. I hear the door open behind me, but don’t bother to turn. I suspect it’s Ash, so I’m surprised when a large hand passes me a glass of amber liquid.

“Thought you might need this,” Cam’s deep rumble says beside me.

“Cheers,” I say, finally looking at him. He’s staring out across the garden, but I knock my glass against his anyway. “How the fuck can you stand listening to all this shit?”

He rubs his palm over the stubble on his jaw, shrugs, and lets out a long exhale. “Morbid curiosity? I’ve heard most of the stories, anyway. You lot don’t hold back when you get together, have a few drinks, and start wandering down the Saint Maca rabbit hole.”

“Saint Maca? He definitely wasn’t that, as my sister’s about to find out.”

“I think she’s more than aware.”

“Does she talk about him to you?”

Cam turns to face me and rests his hip against the handrail as he takes a sip of his drink. “Not as much as she used to, but occasionally a song will play, trigger a memory that she’ll share.”

“And you don’t mind?”

“Marley,” he starts on a sigh, or maybe just an exasperated exhale, like he’s my dad about to give me a bollocking. “I’m a very possessive, red-blooded bloke with anger issues. Of course I fucking mind, but I love my wife. I want her to be able to tell me anything and everything. I’m her safe place, and if that means I have to listen to stories from her past, memories she has of a man she knew intimately, was married to, then I’m here for it.”

“You’re the one who deserves a Sainthood.”

He raises his brows while I recall some of the rumours I’ve heard about this man and his past and present reputation.

“Yeah, probably not,” I say with my own shrug.

“Her past is what makes her who she is. She loved him, then she loved me, she just didn’t know it. He came back, and she left me because she was still in love with him. What she didn’t realise is that never stopped her from loving me, too.”

I sip on my drink as I process what he’s telling me. “You’re saying that when she got back with Maca, once they were married, getting pregnant, she was still in love with you?” I realise, even as I finish asking the question, I’m unconsciously shaking my head in disbelief.