‘Have you seen the Divorced Diva Insta account?’
‘Not since this morning. Why?’ I took the phone away from my ear and put it on speaker, then navigated to Instagram.
‘Check thetaggedtab,’ she said wearily. ‘It’s not good, Al.’
For the typically stoic Queen of the Understatement Claudia to say that, it must have been bad.Verybad, and my hand started shaking so severely, I had to tap the screen three times before I got to the post she was talking about. Even then, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
‘Did you find it?’ asked Claude.
‘Oh my god.’
It was a photo of me and Julian at the restaurant on Friday night, looking very much like a couple in love – he was holding my hand and peering at me adoringly. The photographer – whoever they were – had captured the exact moment before I’d told Julianno, so it seemed like I was just as enamoured with Julian as he was with me.
The caption read:
It seems like @TheDivorcedDiva may not be divorced for much longer. Seen this past weekend looking very cosy with her third husband Julian Cushing on his exclusive Greek Island resort. #SecondChanceLove #Reunited #LoveFindsAWay #AllyAndJulian4Eva
‘Yep. Maya got the alert about the account being tagged and called me as soon as she saw.’
I looked at the time stamp. The post had only been up for twenty minutes, and it already had more than two thousand likes. I scrolled the comments, speed-reading to get the gist – everything from incredulity to very, very pissed off. I tapped on the account that had posted it – zero followers and an avatar instead of a profile pic. Suspicious.
‘Maya is on it,’ said Claude. ‘She’s working on damage control.’
Tommy craned his neck to see and when I showed him my phone, his brows lifted then knitted together.
‘Okay. What do you want me to do?’ I asked Claude.
‘Talk to Julian. See if he knows anything about it. Maybe he can help get it taken down.’
‘Okay.’
‘And keep me up to date.’
‘Will do.’
I ended the call and stared numbly at the screen.
‘That’s not good, is it?’ asked Tommy.
I turned the phone upside down on the sofa. ‘It is decidedlynotgood.’ I got up and crossed to the window, scouring the sky for the falcon. I’d started to think of her as a talisman – a symbol of endurance and tenacity.
Sadly, she wasn’t about, and my focus shifted inwards, bringing more (fucking) questions: Who took the photo? What do they have to gain by posting it? Did Julian have anything to do with this? Would he really stoop so low?
And the biggie: Why the hell did I sayyesto Julian in the first place?
‘Is there anything I can do?’
I dragged my eyes away from the view and turned towards Tommy. He probably didn’t realise he’d been playing leapfrog with Julian, each of them taking turns at the forefront of my mind. With this latest revelation, he’d been knocked to the number-two slot.
‘I don’t think so,’ I replied to his offer.
He stood, shaking out his legs, then jumping up and down.
‘Pins and needles?’ I asked.
‘Yeah.’ He stilled, staring at me. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself before anything came out.
‘Just say it.’
