by Lisa Swallow
7
SKY
The only time I’ve seen pregnancy scans is in TV shows, so I’m unsure what to expect, and I’m quietly nervous. What if there isn’t a baby, and I’m imagining everything? My suspicions, and the pregnancy test, were right. The scan shows I’m eight weeks pregnant. I stare at the grainy black and white image with the tiny blip of a baby and back to the joy on Dylan’s face. The happy reality creeps further in, and with it the incredible feeling of having a baby with the man holding my hand with tears in his eyes.
When we leave the obstetrician, I insist Dylan promises not to say anything to any of our friends yet, and explain why I want to wait until the first trimester is over like many couples do. I’d love to hide this for even longer, but the idea’s impossible. The world watches my waistline more closely than I do. Dylan grumbles something about not wanting to wait four weeks to share his news, as expected, but his mood shifts back to excitement in the time it takes to return to the car.
Back at the apartment, I clutch the printed image of the scan and doze on the bed while Dylan heads out. An hour later, he returns and the baby has his or her first cuddly toy. I attempt not to giggle at the rock star walking into the house with a plush white rabbit.
“What’s funny?” he asks, mouth tipping at one corner as he shares my amusement.
“You’re what’s funny.” I take the toy and play with the soft ears. “I like your cute new friend.”
“Huh.” Dylan grabs the rabbit and smacks me over the head with it. “I think it’s perfect. Any bigger and it might scare her.”
Dylan jumps onto the bed and places the rabbit between us as he lies next to me.
“Her?”
“Or him. We should think names. And which room she, or he, will sleep in.” He pauses. “Have you thought about names?”
“Not really. Please don’t tell me any of your thoughts until I’ve some ideas too and we can fight about it together.”
“Phoenix?”
“I bloody hope you’re joking!” Dylan fights a smile and I purse my lips. “Ha ha.”
“Nah, no ideas really. Come here.” Dylan pulls me in for a hug. “You feeling okay?”
“Better this afternoon.”
“Good.” He kisses my nose. “Are we staying tonight or do you want to head back to the other house?”
I chew my lip. “Back, I think.” Back behind security gates, where we could spot unwanted visitors before they manage to come close and leave surprises.
“Are you worried about the card from Lily?”
Bloody mind reader. “No,” I lie.
“Tomorrow, when I meet up with Steve and the band, I’ll have a quiet word with him.” He takes the scan picture from me and studies it. “You heading to Tara’s next weekend still? You’re not allowed to tell either, you know.”
“I am, and yes, I know.”
“How is she?”
“A lot better but she always exaggerates how much better. I’ll see for myself next week.”
Dylan carefully places the photo on the bedside table. “That’s gonna be weird.”
“What is?”
“You and me apart for a couple of days. First time in months.”
“I’m only a couple of hours away, and you’re busy with meetings next week too. Real world, Dylan.”
He pouts. “Yeah, I know, but my bed will be empty.”
I push the rabbit into his hands. “Here. You’ll be fine. You can sleep with your new friend.”
I leave Dylan for the weekend, as agreed, and head to Bristol to visit Tara. She lives with Tom now, and her recovery after the accident earlier this year continues. In the early days, Tara lost some movement in her legs due to a brain injury, but her determination, and Tom’s support, is evident when I see her. Tara walks with a slight limp, but she’s herself again: beautiful, confident, and with the smile that’s always infected those around her.
I hug Tara for a long while, proud of my best friend fighting back to her old life. Working for Tom’s law firm has eased Tara back into very part-time work from home, and she’s determined to start working at the office too. I know Tara, and if anybody suggests she needs to slow down, she’ll fight twice as hard to prove them wrong.
For old times’ sake, I arrived with Chinese takeaway and a bottle of wine. Tom left for an evening with friends too, allowing us to catch up in Sky and Tara style. Loudly. Despite my attempts not to give a blow by blow account of my holiday of a lifetime with a rock star, I do anyway. Tara soaks up my stories, demanding pictures of every single place we visited, even though her fridge is covered in postcards I sent. We’ve stayed in touch the whole time. Tara’s my little piece of normal in my weird new world and one of few who I can share my sense of humour with. I still need to bite my tongue a lot around new people because they take my comments as snarky, but it’s not my fault people can’t tell when I’m joking.
I fork the chow mein onto my plate and set the foil container on the table. “I missed this.”
“Surely you’ve eaten better than this recently.”
I lick sauce from my fingers. “But not with my best friend.”
Tara picks up the wine and pours a glass. “I missed you too. Please don’t tell me this is one visit, and you’re disappearing for another six months back into your lifestyle of the rich and famous.”
“No! And you look amazing by the way.”
Tara smiles. “In my scruffy jeans and shirt?”
“You know what I mean. You look a lot better than last time I saw you. Even your eyes shine now.”
She shakes her long brown hair over a shoulder; hair I’ve always been jealous of because she can persuade it to do what she wants. Such as now, sleek and glossy, unlike my pain in the backside hair, which can only be controlled when forced into a ponytail. Even then the bloody stuff tries to escape.
“Things are going well.” She holds the wine bottle over my glass and I place my hand over before she can pour. “Not drinking? You’re staying the weekend, you don’t need to drive.”
“I’m trying to cut back.”
Tara splutters. “You? Cut back?”
“Hey!” But I share her smile.
“Or are you pregnant?” she says with giggle.
I poke at the noodles on my plate. This is not a conversation I intended. I promised Dylan. The problem is, Tara has known me since primary school and doesn’t miss the fact her friend who’s in a long-term and loving relationship with red wine suddenly refuses a glass.
“Sky!” she shrieks. “Noooo! Seriously?”
I screw my face up. “Only just, Tara. A few weeks. Nobody else is supposed to know.”
“Omigod, you’re having a baby!” She slugs her wine. “A rock star’s baby. Dylan freaking Morgan’s baby!”
“Please, Tara. I don’t want a fuss yet. Promise me you won’t say anything to anybody, not even Tom.”
Tara places a slender hand over mine and squeezes. “This is amazing. And of course I won’t.”
“Thanks.”
“But omigod!” she half squeals again.
“I know, right?” I say because I really don’t know what else to at this point.
Tara shakes her head and mutters “Dylan freaking Morgan” under her breath again. A few mouthfuls of food later, she breaks her silence. “Will you get married before you’re too fat?”
“Tara!”
“What? Oh. Um. Big, I mean. I’m only asking because I wouldn’t want a baby bump in my wedding photos. Or are you waiting until after?”
My old Tara is definitely back.
“That’s one of the reasons I came to see you, apart from I’ve missed you, of course. Will you and Tom come to our wedding?”
“I’d be bloody insulted if you didn’t ask us!”
“No, I mean just you and Tom. We’re going overseas in December. We don’t want people to know, but I want somebody I’m close to there.”
“Not your mum or dad?”
I run my finger
around the rim of the water glass. Yes, I do, but how is that possible? “I think if my family were seen heading to the same part of the world as Dylan and me, when we’ve never spent any time all as a group, somebody would figure out what was happening. I want this private, not celebrity story of the year.”
“Right.” She pours herself more wine. “The situation sucks.”
“Yeah. So, are you up for a trip to Bali in December? All expenses paid, first-class of course.”
“Serious?” Tara’s mouth drops open, forkful of food in front of her lips.
“Come on, Tara. Who else would I ask but you?” I’m alarmed when her eyes tear. I swallow back my own emotion. “Tara…?”
“Jeez, Sky, do you know what a fairy tale this is? Of course I want to be part of it! My best friend getting married and to him. Does this mean I can help out with wedding plans?” She straightens. “Oh! Wedding dress. I bet you can choose whatever you want. Can I help choose? Please? And you won’t make me wear something weird will you?”
I smile at her burbling; warmth spreading across my chest at seeing my friend so animated. Six months ago, I thought I’d lost her forever, and now she’s an important part of my future. “You can help with whatever you want, Tara. All that matters is you’re there.”
8
DYLAN
This time last year was hell, and some days I’m convinced I’ll wake up back there. As November passes, memories of the touring nightmare a year ago, of being torn inside because I never thought I’d see Sky again, and the reliance on meds to keep me going day to day, edge in. The “what ifs” that annoy Sky join them. What if she hadn’t forgiven me last Christmas? What if I’d died in the hotel room in March? What if Sky changes her mind and walks away? Some evenings after a few drinks, I mumble to Sky how I don’t deserve her, convinced something else will catch up with and ruin us. Sky refuses to let me follow my thoughts down that path and reminds me how fiercely we guard what is ours, us against everybody else.
I learn to push everything out with thoughts of Sky, me, and a baby.
We’re having a freaking baby.
Sky has no idea how difficult it is for me not to tell somebody. She told Tara and that pissed me off, but as Tara’s involved with the wedding and is her best mate, I should’ve expected it. Sky apologised and asked if I wanted to tell one person too, but knowing my big mouth, if I say something to one, I’ll tell everybody.
Mentioning this to the boys is out. I’d feel weird saying the words. Maybe Myf? She’s still travelling, and a text or email isn’t the way I want her to find out. As soon as Sky hits her magic twelve weeks point, I’m telling everybody. Okay, after the wedding, we don’t want any new scrutiny, or we’ll end up with a trail of people following us to Bali.
Sheltered at our place in the country, we don’t meet up with anybody for a couple of weeks. I originally bought the place for solitude, fenced from the world: security gates and staff, the works. Now, I share solitude with Sky and understand what she means about downtime. Yes, the holiday was a whirlwind of new places and experiences to share, but for the first time ever, I welcome the quiet. Following the card from Lily, I was on edge, but she did shit like this before I knew Sky; sent me letters asking to see me. Back then, when nobody responded to her, Lily disappeared for a few months again. What can she do anyway? There’s not exactly much else she can throw to the world that beats a rape allegation.
We considered having the wedding at the house but decided we’re not breathing a word to anybody in the UK apart from Tara. Even Tom doesn’t know yet.
Wedding.
Baby.
How could I think life would go backwards? Everything in my life involves moving on, and that’s the direction I’ll always head now. Even musically, I’m more confident in taking on a solo project. Confident in my ability, but not in broaching the subject with Steve or the band.
I keep in touch with the guys, but I think the break from each other helps as much as the break from the industry. Liam’s happily playing dad, and Bryn’s overseas. Jem’s distracting himself with Ruby Riot, particularly the lead singer.
Or he was. Bryn called this morning to ask me to check on Jem in London. My immediate reaction is panic when I hear he’s ended his relationship with Ruby. I bloody knew this would end up a huge mess. I met her once and couldn’t make my mind up if she was a good or bad thing for him. We barely spoke, Ruby quiet and me distracted by Sky feeling unwell. The lack of tension around Jem compared to the last time I saw him was a good thing, but they’re a weird pair. I agreed with Bryn a relationship isn’t the best idea for Jem right now, and this is exactly why.
I attempt to contact Jem, but he doesn’t answer his phone. In the past I’d stop trying, used to Jem ignoring my calls, but this is different. Recently, the animosity between us retreated halfway to how we were. Friends again, but not in the brotherly way that once underpinned our relationship. Jem even apologised to Sky over his past behaviour towards her, and Jem never apologises to anybody. I’m unsure who was more shocked, Sky or me.
By the evening, I’ve left Jem a stack of messages, and Bryn’s called me again asking what’s happening. I’ve no choice. I need to go to London and check on Jem in case he’s fallen into another of his black holes.
I head off to look for Sky, and she’s in the shower. I sit on the edge of the spa bath in the huge bathroom and watch her through the steamed glass. Sky lathers soap across her body and my blood runs south. This woman has an amazing ability to turn me on without even touching me. Although, the personal peep show I have in front of me would turn on any guy with a pulse.
“Stop perving, Dylan,” calls Sky over the trickling water.
“I’m not here.”
“The glass isn’t totally steamed up, Dylan. I can see you.”
“I know. And I can see you.”
Sky opens the door to the double shower, water running from her damp hair and down her body. Wet. Naked. “What did you want?” she asks.
“Uh.” Suddenly, I can’t remember. She walks naked across the bathroom, dripping onto the floor. Sky grabs my T-shirt and drags me to her, pressing her lips on mine and her damp body soaks the front of my clothes. “You’re wet!”
Sky grins at my unintended double meaning and then brushes her lips against my cheek. “How did you know I was thinking about you in the shower?” She flicks open the button on my jeans. “Shower with me?”
“Sky,” I growl. “That never ends well.”
“Liar. It always ends very well.” Sky presses her wet body against me and my hands slide against her back as I pull her closer. Unable to resist, I smooth a hand across her beautiful, round ass.
I came up here to tell Sky I was going to London tomorrow, not to strip off and indulge in one of our favourite activities.
Screw that, I’ll talk to her later.
SKY
Almost a month at Dylan’s and admittedly the novelty is wearing off. I sit in our bedroom bay window with a book, wrapped up in a blue fleece blanket and propped amongst cushions. My stomach ached today, I think all the vomiting hurt my muscles, but at least that’s ebbed the last couple of days. I wish the tiredness would leave too. Dylan’s in London with Jem for a couple of days, but I didn’t want to go. I don’t worry about being alone, and I’m not completely, because Jan’s heading over tomorrow. She’s not due to come, and I suspect Dylan brought forward her “housekeeping” day and visit.
The rain pelts the window, the distant hills shrouded in grey clouds, and I dream of my sun-soaked travels. Two weeks until Bali and my heart flips each time I think about marrying Dylan. My life is surreal. Eighteen months ago I was stuck in a dead-end job and even more dead-end relationship. Now I’m having a rock star’s baby and marrying him in paradise. No, not a rock star, Dylan. My guy who blew my world off course and sent me spinning into the stars.
I bury myself in the story of the ordinary people, a second chance romance. Funny how I need to read this to escape my life as a
heroine in my own rock star story. One day I’ll write an autobiography, which will be as strange as fiction. I smile to myself. Sure, Sky.
I’m dragged from the book by my phone ringing. Dylan.
“Hey, beautiful,” he says. “How are you?”
“The same as when you called two hours ago, fine. How’s Jem?”
Dylan’s tone changes, hardening. “Not good. Ruby left. He’s on his own again and in a mess.”
My scalp prickles. “He’s not using again is he?”
“No, but I know Jem. This is the kind of shit, which could cause a relapse.”
I rub my eyes. I’m not Jem’s biggest fan, and despite his apology a few months ago, I’m wary of him. Jem’s pulled himself away from the edge, but after years as an addict, how likely is it he’ll stay clean? Dylan doesn’t cope when Jem’s a mess, their relationship screwed by the effect Jem’s behaviour has on people around, and I’m concerned about the effect this will have on Dylan too.
“What happened with Ruby?” I ask.
“It’s complicated. Jem saw his mum for the first time since… in a long time and it’s fucked with his head. He pushed Ruby away instead of letting her help, the dumb bastard. I’m trying to persuade him to talk to Ruby and get some help too. He’s on his own, and I don’t think he should be.”
I sigh. “You’re calling to tell me you’re staying in London longer, aren’t you?”
There’s a pause. “Is that okay? I wanna stay with Jem until I’m sure he’s coping. Bryn’s not available for babysitting duties.” He chuckles to himself. “Sorry, Bryn would be pissed off with me if he heard.”
“It’s really not a problem, Dylan. I was thinking of heading to Bristol for a couple of days.”
“Again?”
“Wedding plans. Tara. We have a lot to talk about. Besides, I don’t want to stay here alone.” I pull the blanket around me closer.
“Can’t she come to you? I worry about you, you know that.”
“And I’m not living my life dictated by other people, you know that.”
