by Parker Swift
I thought about it and immediately wondered why I hadn’t thought about it myself. He was right. It was perfect, it was me.
“Okay,” I said. “Deal.”
Dylan reached behind me into one of the open boxes and picked up a photo of me and a bunch of high school girlfriends before prom. “If you’d been at my school, you would have had a boyfriend.”
“If I’d been at your school, I would have been twelve when you were a senior.”
Dylan chuckled above me. “You know what I meant.” He swatted my behind. “Now we’re taking some of these. I want your pictures in our London house.”
“Our London house.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Feels different now, doesn’t it? Like before it felt like we were playing pretend when I called it our house. Now it feels real.”
“It’s always been real.” Dylan looked around the apartment. “So does that mean we’re done here then?” He looked around, and he was right. Especially if no tenants were going to come in, we were ready to leave.
“Yeah, I guess we are.” It was going to be strange reinhabiting this place, reclaiming it, even from afar.
“Good. Then let’s get going.” Dylan grabbed my bag and handed it to me.
“Where are we going?” I looked at Dylan’s watch—we still had a few hours before we’d planned on heading to the airport.
“To meet your father.”
* * *
When Dylan said he wanted to see my father’s grave, I felt guilty. Like I should have thought of that myself. But the truth was I still wasn’t used to the idea that I could visit him like that. That his grave was someplace I could go.
We rode in the car in silence. No tension, just quiet. My hand was in Dylan’s and he twisted my rings between my fingers. They still felt so new to me. I hadn’t even had a chance to get used to the engagement ring before Dylan had fixed it there with a wedding band. When we got to the cemetery, I realized I hadn’t been there since the funeral. And in that moment, I realized just how avoidant my grieving had been. I was looking out the window, passing the uniform grave markers, flowers adorning some, others long abandoned, and I realized that I hadn’t been ready before. Ready to talk to him while still acknowledging he was gone.
Dylan leaned against the edge of the car and nodded, indicating that I should go ahead. He obviously realized I might need time alone with my dad before introducing him to my husband.
I walked slowly to the grave, noticing how odd it was that grass grew there now. The fresh pile of dirt long gone. I laid the bouquet of flowers we’d stopped for at the base of the marble stone, and waited. I waited for the tears. But the funny thing was that they didn’t come.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been before, Dad.” I looked down at the grass, as though he could see me through it. “I know. I know you didn’t expect me to. You told me to go live life to the fullest, and well, boy did I take that directive seriously.” I actually found myself laughing, thinking about how he’d be laughing right along with me. I looked back to Dylan, who smiled at me. “See that guy? You’re not going to believe it, but we got married two weeks ago. That’s right, married. Your straitlaced, careful, responsible daughter married a man she’s known for less than a year. Can you believe it? Yes, he’s good enough for me. I promise. He’s kind and funny and generous, and so talented. And he’s helped me, Dad. The way he loves me, it’s like I can see myself more clearly. It’s like just by loving me, he’s helping me become who I want to be. You’d really like him.” I paused for a minute imagining an alternate universe in which they could shake hands and have conversations. “Our life is back in London, so I won’t be able to visit as much as I want, okay?” There was the first tear; I wiped it from my cheek. “But, Dad, I love you. And I miss you. And I think about you every day. I’m doing really well over there, with work, with Dylan. I think I understand why you loved living there so much.” I sighed and looked to the sky.
I looked back to my father’s grave, and whispered to him. “I’m happy, Dad. I want you to know that. So wherever you are, you can rest easy. There is someone here taking care of me.”
“And your daughter takes care of me.”
Dylan had approached so quietly, I couldn’t be sure how long he’d been there. He placed his hands on my hips from behind and pulled me against him. I took his hands and wrapped them around my body, hugging him to me. “Dad, this is Dylan.”
Dylan turned me around and placed his fingers beneath my chin, prompting me to look into his eyes. He wiped away a tear I didn’t even know was there.
“Can I have a minute with your father?” he asked, both with his words and his eyes.
I nodded and kissed him slowly on the lips before walking away.
I took up his spot by the car and watched him. This tall, imposing figure looking down at my father’s grave. His broad shoulders and lean waist. He actually wore his hoodie with his fancy jeans. Somehow even with a hoodie he looked like a duke. Some things couldn’t be helped. I had no idea what he was saying, or if he was even speaking at all. But somehow, this moment, maybe even more than standing before a clerk and exchanging rings, made me feel like he was my family.
And thinking of family, I knew we had one more stop to make before we went to the airport.
* * *
“Thanks for doing this with me. I know you don’t really know them.” We were standing outside the Franklins’ apartment. I’d had dinner with them the first week I was back in New York, but we hadn’t discussed Dylan. I was sure this was going to be a shock.
“They’re important to you. Of course I want to see them.”
I leaned up to kiss him, our hands intertwined, and my lips were still on his when the door to the loft swung open. I could feel the blush spread across my face as I turned to see Charles and Maddy at the door, quickly followed by Kate and Cole.
“Mommy! That man was kissing Lydia!” Dylan started laughing, and I covered my face with my free hand, a little less mortified than I had been in Canada when Maddy asked Dylan if he loved me after I’d known him for about ten minutes, but mortified all the same.
“Maddy. What did we say about saying everything that comes to our mind?” Kate asked her seven-year-old daughter.
“Sometimes it’s not appropriate,” Maddy recited back as though bored by the entire concept of appropriateness.
“Yes, I was kissing her,” Dylan said, looking at Maddy. “What do you think of that?” I noticed Cole couldn’t have been more bored by this topic, and just drifted over to me, hugging my leg.
“You’re just like Anna and Kristoff,” she said. “So I guess that’s okay.”
Dylan looked at me, confused.
“Disney characters,” I explained quietly, and he nodded in understanding.
“Glad to have your approval, Maddy, because I intend to kiss your friend Lydia here often. For the rest of my life in fact.”
My eyes shot to his. I hadn’t exactly thought we’d get to this place in the conversation before we’d even gotten past the front door. He was smiling. The man couldn’t help himself. I looked to Kate and Charles, who were looking at each other. Then at me. Then at our hands, where our rings were still shiny and new. Then back to me.
I shrugged my shoulders and found that I couldn’t keep the smile from my face. “Surprise,” I said softly.
“You’re engaged?” said Kate, eyes wider than I’d ever seen them.
“Married, actually,” said Dylan before I could respond.
Eyes even wider.
A slightly awkward moment passed before Charles clapped his hands, grew his own big smile, and said, “This calls for Champagne!”
“Oh my goodness! This is so exciting. Come in. Come in. I want to hear everything.”
“You’re married?!” Maddy screeched as she grabbed Cole’s arm and twirled him into the room. The poor boy was slightly confused by all the fuss.
Over the next hour, Dylan and I told them our story. Wh
ile I braided Maddy’s hair “like a mermaid,” we told them about the run-ins we’d had with the media, about how we’d decided to lay low with the engagement, and about our very small spontaneous wedding. Eventually Cole and Maddy decided they’d had enough of sharing me with the grown-ups and dragged me into their playroom. I looked back to Dylan, who smiled at me, and to Kate and Charles, who were riveted by Dylan. They’d met him a few times before, in Canada, where we’d met, but I had a feeling it was different seeing him as my husband rather than a friend’s nephew. He was just starting to proudly tell them about the store and everything I’d been doing in London, when I disappeared down the hall with the children.
Even in just the nine months I’d been gone, they’d grown so much. They showed me their new toys, and Maddy showed off how much her reading had improved by reading aloud a chapter book. Meanwhile, Cole sat in my lap with a deck of cards, patiently waiting to explain the rules of a game he’d learned. And it was heaven.
Chapter 21
Dylan
Christ, her ass is perfect.
I admit that was my first thought as I watched her saunter away from me with those two children. She was wearing her black leggings, wanting to be comfortable for our flight, and fuck me, but those leggings killed me every time. I couldn’t wait to bite into that ass, pry her apart, sink into her. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I could not have a hard-on in front of these people.
That thought, thankfully, was interrupted by one that was more difficult to define. I tried to work it out as I bragged shamelessly to Kate and Charles about Lydia’s work. I wanted them to know that I loved her for everything she was. I was probably overcompensating for the filthy thoughts about her ass. But that second feeling. It was bigger, warmer. Her hair was hanging down her back, the light from the enormous loft windows was making her face glow, and in each hand was the small hand of a child. I found myself gulping. It was beautiful. Pure. Grand in some weird way. What the ever-loving hell was going through my mind?
I gave Kate and Charles my attention.
“It sounds like you two have quite a lot going on over there!” Kate spoke with a maternal concern. It had a hint of awe, but I could see her worry for Lydia right at the surface.
“Dylan.” Charles cleared his throat. “Eloise told me about your father. I’m very sorry for your loss.” The man was genuine, but there was something in his tone that made me suspect that my aunt had probably aired her own feelings about my father. They hadn’t exactly been close.
“Thank you,” I said, as one should. I hated when people said they were sorry. I never knew what to say to that.
“I can’t imagine the responsibility of taking on Humboldt Park and those responsibilities on top of your architecture career. That’s quite a lot—”
“He’s really kicking ass at it.” Lydia’s voice all of sudden filled the room, and I looked at her reentering. She now had a ribbon in her hair and a toy police belt around her waist.
“Lydia! You said the A word!” Cole stood and gawked at her, indignant, and I found myself laughing. Her eyes met mine, and I laughed harder.
“You’re right, Cole. I shouldn’t have said that.” Lydia was trying not to laugh as she spoke, which had the unfortunate effect of making me laugh harder, which in turn earned me a glare.
I tried to cough down my laugh. “Thanks. Um.” I cleared my throat again. “Lydia is helping a lot with the estate. I couldn’t do it without her.” And I realized at that moment just how true that was. There was no way I’d have been able to think through all of those decisions without her. Or I could, but I didn’t want to. I knew, instinctively, that we were making better decisions together than I would alone.
“Will you two be back in Canada at all on this trip?” Kate asked, looking between us. It made me realize how much Lydia and I had to talk about. Did she even realize that she now co-owned La Belle Reve, the Canadian estate where we’d met?
“Unfortunately not. We have to get back, I’m afraid. As you know, Lydia’s been here for a month. I joined her two weeks ago, but we both have to return to London. In fact, baby,” I said, looking to Lydia, who was now trapped on a love seat between the children. “We should probably think about heading to the airport.”
“Oh, you’re leaving now? What airport are you flying out of?”
I was about to say “New Jersey” or something else vague. If I told them Teterboro, which only serviced charters and private flights, they’d know we were flying private, and in general I tried to avoid sharing that information. It made one sound like a douche bag. Thankfully the shrieks of the children didn’t give me a chance to respond. Maddy and Cole were folding over Lydia’s body.
“You can’t go! We don’t want you to go!” they were saying in harmony. And Lydia was calmly holding them close to her, telling them she’d be back soon, she’d send more postcards.
She looked beautiful sitting there, even with the chaos and shrieks around her. She looked peaceful. And suddenly I felt like an idiot, like a total bloody cliché. Everyone said the second you were married you’d want children, which I’d found idiotic. But apparently it wasn’t. I looked at her, and there was zero doubt in my mind that Lydia would make an incredible mother, and suddenly I wanted nothing more than to make her one. I wanted to see her there with our children.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I wasn’t supposed to want children. I couldn’t be a fucking father. Look at the example I’d had, and I’d vowed not to thrust the life I’d had upon a child. But, Christ, this woman made me want to be better than that, to do better. A child of mine wasn’t destined for the life I’d had. I wanted to see her pregnant with our child. I wanted to see her love that child. And I wanted to see myself through her eyes when I was a father. It wasn’t long ago that I’d told her I wasn’t sure I’d ever want kids, and she’d said, in no uncertain terms, that she wasn’t ready. And now I knew with certainty, as though the idea had taken roots in my bones, that there was nothing I wanted more. But what if she decided she didn’t want to be a mother? What if she was never ready?
“Dylan?”
I looked up and Lydia must have said my name more than once, because everyone was looking at me as though I’d been catatonic.
“Which airport are we flying out of?” she asked.
“Teterboro,” I said mindlessly. Oh, well. I just hoped they didn’t think I was douche bag.
The next several minutes were a blur of hugs, well-wishes, reminders that no, we hadn’t told my family about the marriage yet and yes, please keep it under wraps for now, and of course they’d be invited to the big reception when we had it. I did my thing. I held Lydia’s hand and went into social mode. No one, except for Lydia, I’m sure, knew anything was off. And nothing really was off. It wasn’t as though I’d just started considering completely changing my outlook on a major life decision or anything.
Fuck.
* * *
My phone rang as we boarded the plane, Jack trying to get a hold of me for the fourth time in two days. We’d been playing phone tag, and I wanted to get this over with. It was after midnight in London—I had to give him credit for persistence.
“Jack,” I said.
“Dylan,” he said, having the nerve to sound irritated. “Bloody finally. Your assistant tells me you’re in America?”
“Have been, yes. I’m boarding a plane to return to London now. What’s up?” I followed Lydia on board and sank into the cream leather seat beside her. She was curled into the chair, looking out the window, contemplative. We were about to embark on our last eight hours of having any sense of privacy—I had no doubt that within hours of Lydia leaving our house with that ring on, the papers would be flying through the printer—and I wanted to be off this bloody phone call and back with her as soon as possible. Which reminded me: I had to tell my mother and sister before they found out through the gossip mill.
“Do you have any other intercontinental trips planned?” Jack asked, sounding slightly stressed.
“No, although this trip wasn’t planned. What’s the problem, Jack?”
“The higher-ups are getting antsy, and everyone’s a bit concerned with the time sensitivity of all this. The last thing we’d want is to get word that King was in London and then not be able to isolate him. We think he may be planning a UK trip soon, although we’re still trying to confirm that.”
“Of course—sorry, mate. As fate would have it, I can ease your mind on one count. I’ve successfully been in touch with the Bresnovs, who mentioned the UK trip. They’ve also confirmed that King will be there and agreed to the meeting—”
I heard what sounded like a grunting fist bump on the other end of the line. “Thank fucking Christ. That’s exactly what we needed to hear—”
“I’m glad. I’ll be back by morning, and I’ll have my assistant set something up, and we can discuss details. We don’t have a date yet but should soon.” I stood and walked to the galley to get a water as I finished my conversation. I looked at Lydia settling into her seat and heard myself sigh. “I’m looking forward to this being over, mate.”
“Aww, fuck, as am I. We can’t thank you enough for your help, Dylan.”
“Sure you can—”
“I know. You have my word—the Bresnovs will be taken care of immediately.”
“Thanks, Jack.” As I hung up the phone, I downed the water and looked back to Lydia. I couldn’t wait for this operation to be over. I looked at the woman in front of me, and I wanted to show her, tell her, that I was ready to put everything stressful about my past and present behind us, that I wanted us to be a family.
Chapter 22
Lydia
I’d flown with Dylan only once before. On our trip to Greece, and the whole thing had felt like a fantasy. My aristocratic boyfriend whisking me off for an exotic holiday. It had been fitting somehow that the trip involved a small private jet and a helicopter ride.
