Page 96 of Marry Lies
My sketches are done, the sewing patterns are cut, and I have everything prepped.
On Friday night, I spent an hour on the couch panicking about the magazine feature. It’ll be my first, and though I have everything ready, I’m still a nervous wreck. Deciding on an early evening stroll, I make my way to the back garden. It’s much cooler at night now, so I wrap my cardigan tightly around me as I make my way to Lucifer’s pen.
I’ve been thinking of that damn goat ever since Miles introduced me. He was right. I need to get used to him. And I have to get over my irrational fear.
As I inch closer to the gate, I hear Lucifer let out a loud bleat, and I yelp with surprise, scurrying away.
Maybe another day.
That night, I toss and turn for hours. At some point, Miles crawls into bed with me, his body falling on top of the orange duvet in an exhausted heap. When my alarm goes off at five on Saturday morning, he’s still asleep.
I sit up and stare at him for a minute—still clad in a white dress shirt and black slacks. Nudging him to the center of the mattress, I pull the duvet out from under him, tucking him in as I quietly get ready for the feature.
By the time seven rolls around, he’s still asleep, and I don’t wake him.
Be back around noon.
Excited for our date later.
Xo,
Stella
I leave the note on my bedside table before assessing my reflection in the mirror. I’m wearing one of my pieces—a bright yellow linen shirt that’s cropped and knotted in the middle and matching wide leg yellow trousers. I tamed my curls slightly and pulled the outfit together with nude heels and a tan-colored, vintage Celine bag—a hand-me-down from my grandmother.
And of course, myRnecklace.
I see Miles’s watch on my dresser, and in a moment of spontaneity, I pull it over my wrist, securing it as tight as I can.Perfect.
It’ll be nice to have a piece of him with me.
I’m too nervous to eat anything, so I have half a cup of tea and a biscuit before meeting Niro outside at ten past seven.
The stoic driver is quiet the entire drive into Beverly Hills, which I’m grateful for. There’s hardly any traffic, but that doesn’t stop my legs from bouncing on the carpeted floor the entire drive there. Once we arrive at the Beverly Hills hotel, I say a quick goodbye to Niro as I walk into the lobby, looking for the journalist who was sent to interview me.
“Estelle Ravage?” The name startles me, sending warmth through me. An older woman with graying hair smiles at me from a few feet away.
“Yes, hello!” I chirp, and she reaches a hand out to shake.
“I’m Annette. I’ll grab us a table and we can begin the interview after we’ve had some coffee,” she explains, her smile warm. “Sound good?”
I have to clamp my mouth closed so I don’t laugh like a maniac. “Of course.”
Be cool,I tell myself, using Miles’s watch to center myself.
* * *
The interview goes amazingly. Annette and I talk for almost three hours, and though I know she’s recording me, it doesn’t feel like an interview. I tell her about growing up in London, living with my father, his charitable work, and then we get into my clothing line. I don’t stop talking about VeRue for nearly thirty minutes, and I only cry once when talking about my grandmother.
All in all, a win for me.
Finally, at the end of the interview, she asks about my marriage to Miles. I tell her that it’s been a crazy, wonderful couple of weeks. When she asks how we met, I don’t have to lie. I realize we’d never discussed what we were going to say if anyone asked us about our dating life, so I give her all of the details—the fountain, the taxi, how we kept our budding relationship secret until he asked me to marry him in Paris.
“Sounds like a whirlwind engagement,” she muses, smiling as she sips her coffee. “Almost like a fairytale.”
“It was,” I answer. “I couldn’t be happier.”
“How was it being folded into the Ravage family? That must’ve been interesting.”
