Page 63 of I Knew You Were Trouble

This time, he looks stunned. He runs one hand over his scalp, uncomfortable. I may not like doing it, but I want to see how far I can push this issue.

‘Lexi… you know this life that I now have… you’ve seen it for yourself. It can get crazy sometimes.’

‘What do you mean by that? You mean girls throwing themselves at you?’

‘No. You are misreading my words. What I mean is… I don’t get to play with my son everyday. I don’t get to take him to watch football. Or go to the beach. I am not there for his mother. All I can do is make sure they are well taken care of… but none of it matters because I am not present in their lives.’

J.B. breathes out, guilt etched into his features.

‘Then why did you end your relationship with Audrey? Someone who knows you better than anyone?’

‘Because… the time away from her, it was…’ He mutters something indintinguiable in French. ‘It was not working. You think I do not know that people judge me for that? Every day I live with this…’ He presses a balled-up fist to his chest. ‘This regret.’

‘Let’s take a break for a few minutes,’ I blurt, pausing the recording.

I go straight to the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I’m trembling, not at J.B.’s words, but at the memory of my father’s last argument with my mother, the one that drove a knife blade into their relationship. I remember my mother, doubled over on the living room carpet, her body wracked with sobs, and I try to stop my own rush of tears, but the strength of feeling is too strong, even now.

To stop myself, I think about Aidan. Though we haven’t been able to see much of one another, when he is with me, I feel a happiness that blocks out anything else. When he looks at me, I feel safe. When he kisses me, I feel emotions that I never thought I would feel, for anyone. And despite all my reservations, it feels right.

There is a soft knocking at the door to the bathroom.

‘Lexi. Is everything alright in there?’ J.B. calls from outside.

I open the door a fraction. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I needed a moment.’

He looks awkward. ‘You want to carry on, or we can stop if you like?’

I bow my head. ‘I had a father who left,’ I say. ‘Please don’t think I’m trying to force my opinions on you. I’m sure you had your reasons. I’m not judging you.’

‘But what you said,’ J.B. sighs, once more running his hands over his shaved scalp, ‘about asking Audrey. You are right. I made the decision on my own. I never asked her how she felt about any of it. It was all about me. No one’s ever asked me that before.’

I open the door wider, wiping my eyes. ‘Would you be willing to admit that on camera?’ I ask him.

In the corridor, I wait for the lift to come, my three Peli cases of lighting and camera equipment on wheels beside me, ready to transport back to the Old Foundry hotel. Though Duncan is better, I told him I could manage packing everything up on my own. I feel pleased with how the interview with J.B. turned out, and he has asked me to film a conversation he has over a laptop with his son, so I can see how the relationship works whilst he’s away.

When the lift doors open, Ziggy is inside with Aidan. The two are exchanging words. Aidan grants me a big smile.

I keep my eyes focused on Ziggy. ‘Room for one more?’

‘I’ll help,’ Aidan says, exiting the lift and helping me wheel the Peli cases inside.

I’m not sure whether Aidan has told any of the band that we’ve kissed, but I know for a fact that he’s not said anything to Ziggy. And kissing is all that we’ve done – on my insistence that we take things slow – at least for now.

‘Thank you,’ I hum, raising my eyes to him and sending my heart into a spasm. Inside the lift, we stand against opposite walls.

‘How’d J.B.’s interview go?’ Ziggy asks.

‘Very good,’ I respond. ‘He was very honest.’

‘Poor lad never gets to see his boy,’ Ziggy mutters, before he turns his attention back to Aidan. ‘Anyway, as I was saying, I get why you gotta go,’ he says. ‘I don’t get why she doesn’t get that you’re in the middle of a bloody tour, and that it’s all stuff you don’t need on your plate.’

I’m guessing Ziggy’s talking about Samara Al-Noori. Aidan explained everything whilst we were in his room last night. That’s he’s been invited – purely as a friend – to her brother’s wedding in the United Arab Emirates, and that he felt obligated to attend.

Aidan leans his head against the back of the lift. ‘It’s twenty-four hours, Zig,’ he says. ‘You won’t even notice me gone. I’ll miss one interview. Jesus, we can just tell people I’m unwell or something. It’s not a big deal.’

‘People are talking, Aidey. They’re talking about you. They’re not talking about Caleb and his antics anymore, they’re talking about Aidan McArthur and Taylor bloody Wetherill. Haven pop star, remember? You don’t turn up to a scheduled interview, people think there’s more to it than you being ill. They’ll think you’re avoiding questions. It only stirs the pot.’

I keep my head down, watching him out of the corner of my eye. He looks calm, as though nothing fazes him.

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