Oops. Maybe that was a step too far.
‘Sorry, I just meant you’re larger than life.’
‘I’m nothing. I haven’t written a single song since I lost that necklace.’
It was like she was stuck in a loop – she’d told herself that lie so many times, she was starting to believe it. ‘But you didn’t lose it, Marcie. He chose to give it to someone else. I know that hurts, but frankly, it was a bit tacky of him.’
Her eyes widened in shock.
Oh God, I was dissing the love of her life– not a clever move. But dammit, she was holding him up like he was blameless.
‘How dare you talk to me like that in my own home.’ She got up and stumbled to the door. ‘Ronan! Ronan! Get this woman out of here!’
I didn’t need to be told again. Ronan might have seemed like a nice guy, but if he was forced to defend Marcie I didn’t doubt he’d be happy to use his fists.
I edged to the hallway, my fingers grasping at the front door. The damn thing had seven locks on it. Which one did I need to turn?
Footsteps were pattering upstairs. I only had a few seconds.
‘It’s not the missing necklace that’s been holding you back, Marcie, you’ve deified Benedict and now you can’t move on.’
‘Get out! Get out! Get out!’ she screamed, her voice breaking on every word.
The locks finally twisted free. I yanked the door open and ran.
The door slammed shut as I reached the end of her path. I chanced a quick glance behind me to check no one had followed.
I was safe, but in my hurry to look back, I didn’t see what was in front of me and stubbed my toe on the base of a concrete urn.
I landed heavily on my hands and knees.
The pain was sharp enough to make me gasp. Blood was slowly oozing from my palms where I’d grazed them and a telltale wetness was forming around my knees under my jeans.
I slowly turned myself till I was sitting. The urn housed thick topiary which hid me from the kitchen window.
Movement from it made me catch my breath.
A shirtless man with his back to me was opening the fridge. He was tall and broad-shouldered with shower-wet hair.
The fridge door closed and he turned round.
Nick.
My heart almost stopped.
He was pouring a glass of orange juice. A sobbing Marcie appeared by his side. He slid the glass towards her but she shook her head. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he wrapped her in his arms and kissed the top of her head.
I ducked down.
I couldn’t breathe.
Marcie and Nick. He was her midnight booty call. Just as I’d always suspected.
He’d resigned as her publicist, but he’d found another position pretty sharpish. Or had they been together all along?
I swallowed hard. Where did I fit in? Was anything he said to me the night of the ball true? I’d rejected him. I had no reason to feel jealous. But still, it hurt.
I crawled the rest of the way to the gate.
