Page 42 of The Interview

“Rocco knew we knew. It’s how we managed to keep everything out of the papers after the original images were ‘leaked’.” Len uses air quotes while saying the word leaked. “I let him know we’d be bringing sexual assault charges against him if he didn’t give a ‘no comment’ response whenever he might be asked about events in Paris. The consequences for him would be far-reaching. He’d probably be dropped by his band, the label, and be refused entry into certain countries. So, he begrudgingly complied. Both he and Haley retracted everything, and it was turned into a non-story.Hedid that. Maca. He did that for you and for you,” he says with a nod towards Marley, then me.

“Haley White was never told that we had the video or that Mac had seen it, because he hated the thought of her having that over you, George.”

I’m numb, but I’m not. I have so much anger coursing through me, I honestly don’t know how to process what I’ve just been told.

I start by reaching for my wine and draining what’s left in my glass.

“If they weren’t already dead, I’d be paying Cam to use his contacts to make it happen,” Ash spits out.

“You think his hotel room overdose was an accident?” Cam says quietly from beside me.

I close my eyes. Feeling like I’m being pulled under water, I fight for breath.

“What the fuck?” Marley cries.

I turn my head slowly to look up at Cam, who looks down at me and shrugs.

“I heard a rumour. His band had kicked him out. He was broke… Rocco Taylor, I mean. Someone tipped me off that he was planning to go to the press with an exposé of what really happened in Paris. I knew none of the facts, none of what you’ve just told us.” Cam nods towards Len. “I’d kept him on my radar for years in case he ever did make a move, and when he did, I knew I wasn’t about to sit back and let him break her heart all over again.”

My husband looks down at me. Brown eyes dance all over my face, and I wonder if I’m a terrible, terrible person for wanting to kiss him. For feeling love, pride, and gratitude for this man.

He shrugs again. “I made a few calls, and he was dealt with.”

“Fuck me,” Marley whispers.

“That is so fucking hot. You’re a legend, TDH. A fucking legend,” Ash states.

“A-fuckin-men to that,” Jim agrees.

Len huffs out a laugh. “Fuck me.” He sighs, repeating Marley’s sentiment.

Physically, mentally, and emotionally drained, I still can’t go to bed without showering the day away. With my hair piled high on top of my head, I let the jets fire water at the back of my neck and across my shoulders.

Yungblud’s cover of “I Was Made For Loving You” plays quietly over the speakers, and as if by magic, the man made for lovingmeappears in the doorway of our ensuite.

Our guests left around an hour ago, all of us saying subdued goodbyes as we each attempted to process the day’s revelations—something I haven’t even begun to do.

While I headed up for a shower, Cam locked up the house before I heard him talking to the girls—probably apologising for raising his voice at them earlier.

We haven’t had a chance to discuss what we’re going to tell them yet, and I hope he’s not revealing too much until we decide that between us. I know they’re grown women, but they’re still, and always will be, our babies. I’ll forever want to protect them from the uglier side of life, and fuck me, some of what I learned today wassofucking ugly.

“You avoiding me?” my husband asks, his head tilted to one side.

“Absolutely not. I just needed to wash the day away.”

We stare at each other. I know we need to talk, but I have no idea where to even begin.

“Was it that bad?” he asks.

“Some of it was beautiful. Some of it…” I trail off, shaking my head. “I wanted to wash it away, not have it cling to me. Not take it to our bed.”

“Does that include whatIsaid? What I told you?” he asks, and I hate the set of his jaw and the tone of his voice. He both looks and sounds unsure, which is so unlike him.

“No,” I say with a shake of my head. “Wewillneed to talk about it, but not right now. There have been enough words for one day. I don’t need any more right now.”

“What do you need right now?” My cocky, confident husband instantly reappearing.

“You,” I tell him. “Just you.”