So I Married a Rockstar

Chapter Twenty-Five

Ch.25: An Uncomfortable Interview

A car ferried us to the Silver Crown hotel, and once there I was whisked away by the hair and makeup team. I'd hoped that I'd be prettied up in the same room as Jude, but apparently not.

Two women and a man flitted around me with powders and sponges and brushes, putting gunk in my hair, testing swatches of colours on their arms before painting my lips and eyes, and any other time I might have enjoyed the makeover, but the nerves were creeping back.

I'd never been interviewed before, and I had no idea what to expect.

How much of it would be aimed at me and how much at Jude?

What kind of questions should I expect?

What would happen if they asked something I didn't want to answer?

What if I came across as awkward or unlikeable? I was getting enough shit from people just because I was married to Jude – how much worse would it get if they decided I was a frosty bitch too?

Why the hell hadn't I asked Jude any of this?

There was some vague talk about changing my clothes, but I firmly declined. I'd smoothed out my dress and the lace material hid any lingering creases, and I wanted to wear something that was my own.

The downside was the tabloid fodder that wearing one of Elle's old dresses would create. I'd already seen articles about the grey coat that Elle had given me, along with polls asking which of us had worn it better, which irritated the fuck out of me. Rather than acknowledging Elle's kindness and generosity in giving me that coat, the media had attempted to pit us against each other, and they'd probably do it again with this black dress.

By the time the team had finished, I was wearing more makeup than I ever had in my life, but it barely looked like I was wearing any. They'd kept the look fresh and natural, and I was glad of it. I'd been worried that they'd make me look like a completely different person.

I reunited with Jude in a small room that branched off from the main lobby, where our interviewer was already waiting. The curtains were drawn and professional lights on tripods had been placed at strategic angles, making sure we'd look our best. As if the five tons of makeup I wore wasn't enough.

Jude had ditched the leather pants in favour of dark jeans and a grey T-shirt that looked casual but probably cost a fortune. His hair had been restyled, and his skin was fresh and bright so he was probably wearing as much makeup as me. He still looked like a rockstar but in a more refined, civilised way than he had onstage.

He pulled me over to the leather sofa in front of the tripods, and lounged in it as if it was his own. I found it harder to relax, and I couldn't decide how to sit. After a few moments of fidgeting, Jude put his hand on my knee to keep me still.

"You'll be fine," he whispered.

Our interviewer was a woman in her thirties, with dark hair pinned back in a French twist, wearing an Angels & Demons T-shirt. I wished I could remember her name. Jude had told me on the way to the hotel, but all I could remember was that she worked for Talk, some gossip magazine that I vaguely knew of, but had never read.

I leaned against Jude's shoulder and tried to pretend that I wasn't freaking out a little.

The woman opened by gushing over the show, and she was so enthusiastic that either she was a hell of an actress or she was a serious Angels & Demons fan. Or possibly just a fan of Jude.

"So," she said, once she'd run out of compliments. "What we all really want to discuss is the thing that everyone's been buzzing about these last few days. Your secret wedding."