Page 73 of The Interview
Feeling hungover and not expecting to be put in front of the camera, I’d put my hair up in a messy bun this morning. Recalling the emotions I went through backthenstill manages to make me anxious all these years later. I push my fingers through my hair and loosen the scrunchy holding it up.
“He wasn’t my ex, the bloke I was bringing with me. I made that up to save face. He was just some random I’d met in the pub, had a drink with him, then asked if he wanted to be my plus one to a celebrity wedding.”
“But before all of that, what else did you do?” Marley interrupts.
“Don’t ever cross Ash,” G warns the room from beside me, and I don’t know why, but I instantly search out Makenzie Wild, who’s been taking photos of all of us while we’ve been talking.
I lick my dry lips and give my best evil smile. “Marley, the silly boy, left me the key to his apartment. So, feeling hurt and angry by his actions, I got busy,” I explain, using a tone that makes it sound like what I did was perfectly normal.
“In the time Marley was away, George and Maca had bought a place in Hampstead. It was empty, so they did some kind of deal with the owner, letting them rent it while the sale went through. Maca moved out of Marley’s, and George moved out of her flat above the shop. She also stepped down from her role there, and I was promoted to area manager. Bern, being the best person in the world, decided G’s old flat would come as a perk with my new job title.” I pause because I realise I may be rambling. “You keeping up with me, Daniel, or is all this too much?”
“Girl, I’m invested! Don’t you dare stop now.”
I smile as warmth fills my belly. I may grow to like giving interviews, after all.
“Once I knew G and Mac were cosy in their little love nest, I was all moved into my new little flat, and I was sure Marley was still busy whoring his way around the US.”
My husband opens his mouth to say something, but I hold up my index finger to silence him.
“I go to Marley’s flat with a couple of packets of cress…”
“You didn’t?” Daniel gasps.
“She fucking did,” Marls confirms.
“There were timber floors in every room except the bedrooms, so I stripped his bed, watered the mattress, along with his carpet, and emptied the cress seeds over both. Then I went to the kitchen, emptied the contents of his freezer onto the benchtop, which included salmon and a couple of chickens, turned the heating up as high as it would go, and I left.”
“You forgot the key,” Marls reminds me. “And the note.”
“Oh, yeah. Silly me. When I let myself in, I snapped the key in the lock, and on the bottom of the note he’d left me, I wrote:welcome home fucker, and left it with the half of the key that wasn’t in the door.ThenI left, making sure I shut the door behind me.”
I blow out another heavy breath.
“Every time I tell this story, it’s like therapy. It releases the trauma this fuck boy here caused me for those few weeks.”
“Ash, you’re my hero. What an absolute queen,” Tallulah calls out.
I grin until I realise Marley’s now slouched back on the sofa, his legs out in front of him and arms folded across his chest. I wonder if he’s pissed off with me, but when Daniel asks, “How long till you got home and found it?”
Marley says, “Two, maybe three weeks. I had to get a locksmith out just so I could get in, then a team of cleaners to clean the place, plus a carpet company in to remove and replace the carpet. Oh, and a new bed and mattress. When I found thenote, I knew running away had been an absolutely pointless exercise and Ashley Morisson was the woman I was going to marry.”
Because my husband is so fucking sexy, I can’t help but lean across and give him a kiss.
When I turn back to face Daniel, he’s sitting forward in his chair, palms pressed together in front of him like he’s praying. His lips are trapped between his teeth as he appears to be fighting a smile.
“How did you come back from that?” he asks.
“We didn’t, not for a little while,” I start to explain before I’m cut off by my husband.
“I went to her flat.”
“He brokeintomy flat.”
“The handyman let me into your place.Youbroke intomyflat.”
“I had a key!” I tease sharply.
“He broke into my flat. I came home, and he was there—scared the life out of me. Maca and George had been staying there, and I thought someone might have broken in. A stalker… someone dangerous!” I hold my hand against my heart, completely overacting what actually happened when I found rock star Marley Layton in my flat all those years ago.
