Page 20 of The Interview

“I am.”

“How’d you know that?”

“She told me.”

“When?” A heat burns in my chest and warms my belly that’s not caused by the bourbon.

“Back then, and now.”

“So, what? You were having an affair?”

“No affair. Not that I didn’ttryand fucking tempt her. I would’ve taken her any way I could get her at the time, but she wouldn’t leave him.”

“But she told you she loved you?” I let out a breath I’ve held on to for far too long. After the shit my sister put Maca through for an alleged infidelity, I don’t know how I’d handle finding out she’d had an affair during her marriage to my now-dead best mate. “Why?”

“I asked her. Asked her to leave him, to pick me. She told me she couldn’t because he owned her heart. So, I asked if she’d ever loved me.”

“And she said yeah?”

He tilts his head, rolls his lips together, weighing up his response. “You want the truth?”

I nod.

“She said, ‘Yeah, and I think I still do.’”

I let out a snorty kind of laugh and shake my head. “Fuck me.” I comb my fingers through my hair. “That girl. That fucking girl.”

“She’s a grown woman, definitely not a girl.”

“She’s my little sister; she’ll always be a girl.”

“She’s my wife, the mother of my children?—”

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t want to get into a pissing contest over it.”

“Good, because as your wife pointed out, I’ve got a two-inch advantage, so I’d piss all over you.”

“Fuck off,’ I tell him in a way you can only tell the people you love. And I do love him, not just because of the way he loves my sister, but because he’s a fucking good bloke.

“You know,” I start, voicing something I’m still processing in my brain. “Everyone bangs on about this epic love story of Sean and Georgia’s, but yours is probably bigger, more epic. More…. Just more.”

“And that, Marls, is how I fucking deal with all this shit,” he says as he slaps me not-so-gently on the back. “That’s how I can stand listening to all this shit because the world doesn’t know what we do. They don’t know our secrets. Because I’m not famous, no one’s ever delved deeper into our story, and that suits me just fine.”

He knocks back his drink, then turns and walks inside without another word.

“Motherfucker,” I say aloud to no one while releasing a small laugh.

“Fuck me, Mac, you know all of that?” I ask my dead mate.

The wind picks up, a fallen leaf rustles at my feet, and being Marley Layton, the infamous rock god, I let out a girly squeal and jump the fuck out of my skin.

The door goes again, and this time I know it’s Ash, my love, my world, my fucking queen.

“What are you doing out here on your Jack Jones?” she questions.

“I wasn’t. Cam was just here.”

She takes my glass from my hand and takes a sip of the bourbon, quickly pulling a face as soon as the contents hit herlips. I love those lips, love the words they speak, the way they brush against my skin, wrap around my…