Still, it could be worse. It could be fucking Maddy they’re putting on the show. I’d put nothing past these rating-hungry bastards. I suppose I have to thank Marcus that of all the people he could have had an affair with, it was a civilian and not a celebrity, or else it would be her against me on and off the screen.
Oh god, they wouldn’t put a civilian on the show, would they? These wild cards are a complete unknown, a new twist in this toxic show, just when I thought the end was in sight. Yet, I’ve come this far, and I won’t drop out now because of the rumours about Marcus. That would paint me as entirely pathetic. I owe it to my Instagram followers, the hundreds of thousands of women that have supported my appearance on here from the start, to see it out.
Aaron shoots a smile which manages to jump from subdued to saucy in less than three seconds. ‘At least you two seem to be getting on well.’ He nudges Ben in the ribs and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively before clicking his fingers. A recording from first thing this morning resounds through the speakers at a deafening level. It’s Ben’s deep velvet voice.
‘If you were mine, I’d never look at another woman.’ A video of us training last week pops onto the large screen behind us. I had fallen over, and Ben scooped me up as if I weighed nothing, pressing a kiss to the finger I’d bent back trying to break my fall.
It happened to be the finger my wedding rings would normally be on, but I’d left them by the side of the bed that morning by accident. It doesn’t look good. For a split second, I imagine how Marcus might have been caught innocently in the park, but then I remember he had no business being there in the first place. And the child.
The video switches to Ben holding me this morning. His hands press against the base of my spine, pushing me into his arms. ‘You should have picked me. It’s still not too late.’
A chorus of ‘ohhhhs’ ripples through the audience and I’m torn between being devastated that this will air on television tonight, and being secretly delighted that I’m not simply being portrayed as the scorned wife, ten years past her sell-by date.
For a spilt second, I wonder what my life would have been like if it was Ben I’d agreed to go out with all those years ago. Would we have stuck it out? With Marcus at the forefront of my every thought, it had never occurred to me to wonder.
