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"You know why."
"No I fucking don't!"Don't cry. Don't cry.
"I'm back tomorrow and I'll come over and explain everything. Not just Jem taking stupid pictures, but what's going on between me and him that’s making Jem behave like this. I'll take you out—show the world you're who I want."
There's a desperation to his tone I haven't heard before, and a panic unlike him. Is he telling the truth? Dylan must understand why I struggle to believe him so soon after Grant did something similar.
"Why is she still with you in Germany if the photo isn’t true?"
Dylan huffs. "Jem. She's with Jem. The truth will come out soon, and then you'll see."
"You mean Steve and her manager will fix everything?" I snap.
There's a long pause. I can’t do this right now.
"I'm tired, Dylan, and I've had a lot to drink. Call me when you’re in England."
"You do believe me?" His question comes straight back without a pause. "You mean so much to me! After fighting for you so hard, why would I fuck this up?"
"Maybe. I don't know, shit, Dylan, I'm drunk. Yeah, probably I do believe you."
The sound of Dylan exhaling comes down the phone. "When I get back, we can talk this through? I don’t want to be away from you, I need to figure out what to do."
"To do about what?"
"The tour, everything I ran to Broadbeach from. Shit, if I could walk away and be the ordinary person you want me to be, I would."
His logic is skewed too, I wouldn’t ask him to change for me and I don’t want him to. "Be the person you want to be, Dylan," I say softly. "That’s your problem right there. You spend too much time being the image of Dylan, rather than the reality."
"I want to create a new reality with you; my current one sucks."
Sometimes his whining about how bad life is as a multi-millionaire grates, but then I consider what he gave up to achieve this—himself. "Dylan, I need to go, I’m really tired."
"But you believe me?" he repeats.
"Yes. Okay."
"Sky, I love you so fucking much."
He pauses, waiting for my response. "And I fell in love with you, despite concerted efforts not to. You know that.“
He laughs softly. “You’re funny. So you’re not leaving me again over this?"
"My heart won't let me walk away," I say, "And my heart was broken very recently, so it’s fragile, which is why I’m guarding it."
"I’ll give you my heart to take care of, if you’ll give me yours to mend."
"If I do, will you be careful with it?" I whisper
"Always, I promise."
