by Lisa Swallow
Now I’m confused. This is the biggest, the best, most fucking amazing thing that’s happened to me since Sky. A baby. An us. My heart skips out of rhythm as the reality of her words floods through. I’m going to be a dad. Holy crap. What’s weird is I dodged this moment more than once with girls in the past who told me they thought they were pregnant, and all I felt then was a cold fear. The idea of the responsibility of some kid I didn’t want terrified me. I denied to myself I could ever be a dad. But this? This is Sky, and the universe is aligning everything the way it should be.
I kiss Sky’s strawberry-scented hair and rest my cheek on her head. “Why didn’t you tell me? How long have you known?”
“That’s why I’m apologising,” she says in muffled voice. “I took the test earlier today but couldn’t say anything.”
“Why not? You should’ve told me straightaway.”
Disentangling herself, Sky looks at me, mouth turned down. “You were in a really shitty mood, Dylan. I was scared what you’d say.”
Shit. Dumbass. “Sorry.”
“‘S’okay.”
I stroke hair from Sky’s face. “But this is happening, right? Like, can these things be wrong?”
“Rarely if it’s a positive.”
I grip the stick, another emotion edging in. “If you thought you were pregnant, why not tell me? I already told you I thought you were. We could’ve taken the test together. I could’ve been with you and shared the moment.”
Sky stares at her hands and says nothing. Confusion joins my nervous excitement when the expression on Sky’s face doesn’t brighten. She’s terrified—and still not sharing my smile.
A weight falls from nowhere and slugs the breath from me.
Does Sky not want this?
“Are you happy?” I ask cautiously.
“I’m in shock, I think.” Her voice is barely audible. “I didn’t mean to hide this. Your mood… and mostly I worried if I told you, you’d tell everybody tonight. I’m not ready.”
For me to tell, or for the baby?
“I wouldn’t tell anybody. Not yet.”
“Dylan, you wouldn’t be able to contain yourself,” she says with a small smile.
I sit forward and run both hands through my hair. “Wow. Fuck. I mean… wow.”
Still no response. More tears. I take hold of Sky’s hand and rub her fingers between mine, willing her mood to change and for me to be wrong about her thoughts.
“Sky. Everything is okay. Stop worrying. This is amazing. Awesome. Why can’t you just go with the flow?”
“Go with the flow? I’m bloody pregnant, Dylan!”
Her raised voice is another slap at my happiness, and the words blurt out. “You don’t want this. You don’t want a baby, do you? Is that why you hid it?”
Sky drags her hands away. “No, Dylan! We just didn’t plan… I’m in shock. I’ll be okay soon.”
“You need to stop trying to plan. I don’t care how or when because this is meant to be! How did anything good that’s happened between us come from plans? We didn’t plan to meet, I didn’t plan to fall in love with you so hard it knocked my world sideways, and I didn’t plan for someone to forgive me for being an asshole and agree to be with me forever.”
Sky stands and tucks her hands beneath her arms. “I can’t let go of all control over my life, Dylan. I wanted to plan some things—like this. Deciding to get pregnant is huge. A baby… another person….”
“Another us. Sky, don’t spoil this.” I stand too and attempt to take her into my arms, but she steps back, maintaining the distance we’re creating.
“I’m not trying to spoil this! I dealt with the situation badly, that’s all.”
“You should’ve told me straightaway. As soon as you knew!”
“I’ve told you now, okay? You shouting at me and telling me how I should feel isn’t helping!” Sky walks towards the bathroom and pauses, turning to me. Her tear-streaked face and red cheeks are one thing, but the lost look on her face smacks at how fucked up this situation is. What’s happening here? “Why can’t you understand how scary this is for me?” She slams the door, the sound of the bolt deadening everything else into silence.
Shell shocked, I wander to the window and stare across the orange-lit skyline.
What the hell? This isn’t how I imagined the moment would be for us.
SKY
I didn’t mean to tell Dylan tonight, not until I wrapped my head round the situation and could talk about this without the panic seeping in.
I couldn’t blurt the news on the plane or before tonight’s function. We needed a chance to be alone and talk things through.
I handled the situation terribly, and Dylan’s reaction shocked me. Does he genuinely believe I don’t want his baby?
I splash water on my face, the drops cooling my skin, then push my hair away with damp hands. I’m exhausted. You don’t have to look at me too hard to see, and now I have an extra explanation why. On top of the sickness of the last few days, the stress of returning to England, then attending here, is one big bite by reality I wasn’t expecting.
Pregnant.
Dylan wants children. We both do. We’ve discussed it as an abstract future. The look on Dylan’s face and his badly disguised upset hasn’t helped. He’s right. We should do all this together, taking the step to parenthood from the first blue lines onwards. I should’ve waited to do this with him, but I was terrified by his possible reaction.
How can I explain my doubts to Dylan without him thinking I’m rejecting him; that I don’t want his baby? This is a huge shock. I do want Dylan’s baby, our baby, but I wanted some control over when.
But Dylan also needs to hear whatever confusion exists in my mind; at the very cornerstone of the situation, I love him and want this part of us.
Aware Dylan will be outside the bathroom, waiting and confused, I slowly open the door. He sits on the sofa rubbing his palms together and stands the moment I appear.
“Sorry,” we both say in unison.
I wrap my arms around my body. “Sorry this isn’t how you wanted.”
“Or how you wanted,” he replies, cautiously.
I can’t do this. I refuse to end the evening in confusion and hurt. I approach slide my hands along Dylan’s chest to unbutton his black cotton shirt. Dylan looks down at me as I push the material apart, desperate to touch him. He smells of Dylan, my man from the sea, and I bury my face into his taut chest. He closes his hand over the back of my head, and for a moment I’m terrified he’ll reject me. When his strong arms encompass me, holding us in our place again, I relax against him, hugging him tightly.
“I love you. I do want this. I’m just scared,” I say, not looking at him. “Please understand me, and why I reacted like I did.”
“Of course but understand why I’m damned excited, Sky. Us. A baby. The perfect piece of our life clicking into place.”
I look up at him. “I’m tired. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”
“You’ll share everything from now on? No worrying about what I’ll think?”
The tears well in my eyes again and I close them, in case Dylan thinks this is more doubt. “Were you worried I wouldn’t want this?”
“No. Of course not.”
He seizes me in a breath-snatching hug and buries his face in my hair again. “I love you so fucking much.”
I poke him in the side. “Fucking much?” I ask, face smothered.
“A shitload,” he says and laughs softly, breath tickling my hair.
I pull away and fight back a smile. “For someone who can be poetic, you use a lot of bad words to describe love.”
He holds my face in both hands. “Don’t change the subject.”
“I feel like crap. Today has been long. We can talk tomorrow when I’m feeling more human,” I suggest. “And you’ll make an appointment to see a doctor? Tomorrow?”
“Yes, Dylan.”
Dylan’s eyes shine as he scoops me into his arms. “And we plan?”<
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I wrap an arm around his shoulder. “Yes. Planning is good.”
As he carries me towards the bedroom, I rest my head on his shoulder. His understanding of me and the situation remind me how stupid I was.
“Did you really worry I’d freak out and wouldn’t want this?” he whispers as we spoon in bed.
“Maybe a little.” I run my fingers along his forearm and pull his arms tighter around me.
“Everything will be okay,” he murmurs, and places a palm on my lower belly. “I love you, and I have enough love for all of us.”
6
DYLAN
Dylan,
Welcome home!
I hope you and Sky had a great holiday.
Lily xx
What the fuck?
I grab the matching gold envelope and study the smudged postmark, dated a week ago.
I reread the note.
What the actual fuck?
Firstly, how did she know Sky and me are back in England?
And secondly, why the hell is Lily writing as if we’re best friends?
Shit. I don’t need this again.
I stare out the large window. The grey London skyline threatening snow reminds me of last Christmas. A hell of a lot has happened since, and suddenly it’s winter again. Lily’s card looks up at me from the table, mocking my happiness.
No.
I refuse to rewind. We’re moving on. Sky, me, and the baby.
This is the first time Sky and me have stayed at my—our—London place for months. The doctor I want Sky to see is in London; it makes sense we come back here, and she didn’t protest. Her travel sickness stops her wanting to drive far. Sky headed straight for the shower once we arrived, and I made a couple of calls. Then I grabbed a beer and poked through the stack of letters, left on the table by the PR girl assigned to look in on the place while we were away.
Most of this shit is bills, and crap I don’t usually deal with. There’s a postcard from Myf from Mexico; she’s taking time out to travel with Miles in between contracts. I swear I can’t keep up with what she’s doing or where she is.
And there’s this headfuck in an envelope. I scrunch the card into a ball and chew my lip. No. I smooth the card flat instead and rip the note into pieces, smaller and smaller, obliterating her words and her name. Who do I talk to about this? Steve told me Lily was sorted, whatever that meant. Clearly, she isn’t.
Tomorrow I talk to building security and make sure the crazy bitch hasn’t visited the place. Sky told me Lily followed her to the hospital once, when Sky was visiting Tara, and never explained much about what happened. But that was months ago, and we haven’t seen or heard from Lily since.
As far as I know.
Has Sky heard from Lily and not told me? No, she’d tell me. I’ll talk to somebody in management about the situation, tomorrow. This shit needs stopping. Now.
I shove the torn card in my pocket as Sky appears in her skinny jeans and an oversized blue jumper, her eyes brighter. She tips her head at me. “Are you okay? You look pale too.”
“Something I need to talk to you about,” I mumble.
“I have something to talk to you about too.” Sky grins and sits on the sofa, patting the seat next to her.
“Oh?” Normally Sky would be straight onto listening to me, but whatever she wants to say is obviously more important. This could be a bad thing. “Is it going to piss me off?”
She laughs. “I hope not.”
“Hmm.” I sit and eye her warily. “I made you a doctor’s appointment.”
“Already?” She pouts her pale lips.
“Yes. Shut up. You’re going.”
She gasps and playfully smacks my leg. “Don’t tell me to shut up.”
“Do as you’re told, then.” I fight a smile as she arches a brow. “Seriously, Sky. Let’s find out everything is okay and how pregnant you are.”
“Not more than a few weeks, I think.”
“Well, the doctor will tell us when we see him, won’t he?” I give a smug smile. “Tomorrow.”
Sky responds with an exasperated noise. I capture her face and cover her cheeks with kisses. Sky giggles and my heart swells at the sound. We’re back to the normal Sky and Dylan. Our ability to say nothing, but everything we need, through a look or touch grows each day.
“What was it you wanted to tell me?” I ask.
“Well…,” She takes my hand, curling soft fingers around mine. “I’ve been thinking about something for a few days. I need to make an honest man of you, don’t I? So we need to make a date soon.”
“What do you mean? What date?”
She lets go of my hand and shoves me lightly in the chest. “You can be so clueless sometimes! I mean a wedding date.”
My currently confused head is whipped in a new direction, away from fears over Lily and to Sky’s change of heart. “Whoa. Serious? Because of the baby?”
“No, Dylan. Because I love you, and I decided that’s the only thing that matters here. I don’t need to be scared.”
“Scared of what? I don’t understand what scares you about marrying me.”
“No, I mean I don’t need to be scared of the wedding. Marrying you doesn’t scare me. Much.” She bites the corner of her lip. “There’s the whole ‘Dylan Morgan the self-important rock god’ thing, but I think I have him under control.”
“Ha ha.”
“But that’s the big thing for me: the famous wedding the world is waiting to tear apart and analyse every detail of. I don’t want an important day ruined by everybody feeling they can have a piece of it. We do this for us and only us. The world doesn’t need to be part of the wedding or our life, do they?”
I drag a hand through my hair, the anxiety over telling her about Lily replaced by shock at the words I’ve wanted her to say. I should be running around the room cheering, but this is weird, and I suddenly understand what Sky means about life being out of my control. “Wow. Okay. You’re full of surprises this week aren’t you? Have you decided when?”
“No, but I thought maybe in December? Just before Liam and Cerys’s wedding, then the focus will be on them.”
“Sneaky.”
“I’d rather call it smart. We can travel overseas, pretend we’re having another holiday.”
I snuggle closer and kiss the side of her face, breathing in her summer scent. “Or we could do it now? Like, this week?” I whisper
“Dylan, at least let me plan a tiny bit.” She holds her thumb and forefinger millimetres apart. “Please?”
“Have you planned where?” I wrap an arm around her shoulder, pulling her against my racing heart.
“No idea. You choose.”
“Vegas?”
“No way! Dylan!”
“I was kidding! Your face is priceless!” I wince as she thumps me. “Has to be somewhere by the ocean, doesn’t it? Hidden.”
She smiles, eyes shining with agreement. “Perfect. Any ideas?”
I shrug. “Where do celebrities normally have their secret weddings?”
“No idea, I haven’t been to one recently.”
“Okay, Miss Snarky. Date?”
“Uh. Cerys and Liam’s wedding is the twenty-second so the week before?”
“Right.” I stand and glance around the room. “I should write this down.”
Sky laughs at me. “What? In case you forget?”
I grab her arms and pull her up from the sofa to face me. “No, so I can get you to sign the bottom of the page, and I’ll have evidence to show when you change your mind.”
“I’m not going to change my mind, Dylan,” she says softly. “We plan, we choose quiet and small, and we do this.”
“Absolutely,” I whisper and tip Sky’s chin. Her clear blue eyes look back and the invasive world she talks about melts away.
Sky winds her arms around my neck and presses her lips against mine, and my body flows with the happiness to match the cold, windy day she said she’d marry me. Today she’s really said she’ll marr
y me, and the shadow of Lily disappears. I hold Sky’s head gently, savouring her and this moment. Her soft curves pressing against me inevitably send my thoughts in a different direction, the love for her spilling out in a harsher kiss and desire to connect. I belong to this woman, and I want to show her how much.
“Right, so what was it you wanted to talk about?” Sky asks, grabbing my hands away from her ass.
“Nothing. I wanted to go back to bed,” I whisper and leave kisses along her neck, moving downwards.
“I just showered!”
“And?” The relaxed happiness in the face of my summer girl deserves to stay, and not be wiped away by the past. But I promised no more secrets. “Okay. Please don’t freak out”
Sky steps back. “What? What did you do? Oh god, please don’t tell me you’ve told someone about the baby!”
“No. No.” I pull the torn squares from my pocket and Sky frowns at them. “Have you heard from her?”
“Heard from who? What’s that?” She points.
“Shit, Sky. Okay. Lily sent us… me a card.”
“What card?” She grabs at the torn squares in my hand. “Dylan? What did it say?”
“Nothing much.”
“Did she threaten you or…?” Her panicked expression I wanted to avoid spoils our moment. Fuck. Big mouth. Next time? Keep it shut, Dylan. “No. Nothing like that. I wasn’t going to tell you, but we said no more secrets.”
“I wish you’d shown me before you tore the letter up, or at least kept it to show the police.”
“Police? What the hell? One card, Sky.”
She frowns and grabs a handful of the torn card. “One card for now. You don’t seriously believe she’ll stop there, do you? You have a short memory.”
“And you haven’t heard from her?”
“No! I’d tell you if I had. Is this the first time she’s contacted you since… well, last time.” Sky slumps back onto the sofa.
“Yes. And it will be the bloody last,” I mutter.
For a moment Sky stares ahead, chewing a nail. “Well, I’m not scared of Lily. She’s not controlling my life with fear.”
But I’m not sure Sky’s telling the truth, and I won’t tell her stories about weird fans from the past. The problem is, Lily isn’t a weird fan. She goes much further than that, and I have no idea what her game is.
