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46
Dylan
I emergefrom the cool house into the bright Californian sunshine and wish I had my sunglasses.Liam, you stupid fucker.I hesitate, hoping nobody asks me any questions, and sweep a gaze across the waiting crowd. Sky stands out as the most beautiful and natural part of this marshmallow pink-covered disaster zone. And I mean beautiful. The natural comfort she has in her own skin contrasts the insecurity of those I've surrounded myself with for years who think happiness comes from designer clothes and a scalpel.
Asking Sky to marry me was hard. Really, fucking hard. I'm not into rejection, but my secret fantasy I held in my heart wouldn't stay hidden. Besides, my heart is Sky's to take care of and she finally entrusted me with hers. She has all of me, and I want all of her. Yeah, simplistic way of thinking, but there's nothing everyday about what's between us.
Sky hates me talking about the past, and I agree that's where everything before today should stay. But each choice I made, each fuckup, the good days, the lost days, and the things I ran from all led to one moment. Meeting Sky. If I'd done one thing differently, our lives might never have collided. This is how I allow myself to move on: now, I'm with Sky, and when we're together, everything from the past brought us here.
As if aware of my scrutiny, Sky turns her face in my direction and the smile she gives blows away the dark emotions I have from my encounter with Liam. Her blonde waves frame her face, streaked lighter after a few weeks in the California sunshine.
Sky stands and weaves through the chairs toward me. I kiss her soft hair as she reaches me, pulling her close so I can hold the love I have. Sky pulls back, shields her face with a hand, and looks up at me. Her freckles are more pronounced from time in the sun, and she has this one between her nose and left eye that I love to kiss. Usually as an excuse to kiss the rest of her.
"Everything okay?" she asks.
I rub the freckle with my thumb. "I think we should go inside for a moment."
"What's happening? Dylan?" she whispers.
I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Today should be about love, not heartbreak. "There are not enough words or time in the world to tell you how I feel about you, Sky." I cup her chin. "That one song? Not enough. I'm going to write a whole fucking album of songs, every single one about you and about us. Then when I say I'll love you forever, it will be the truth because those songs will live forever."
Before she can respond, I drag her into me, hold her, inhaling everything good about Sky that fills my world, and hope she knows I never want to let her go. This fucked up mess of Liam's just kicked my reality into check. Sky is the song I never knew I could write, and her love the music I always wanted to hear. From now on, my past is a story in a closed book.
* * *
Sky
The chaos continueson the bluff above us, in the grounds of the white architecturally designed symbol of luxury. Dylan and I stand hand in hand, feet in the warm water of the private beach. He looks amusing with his trousers rolled up against the water, and although he's lost his tie and unfastened his shirt, the formal suit doesn't fit the beach location. My dress is short enough not to worry about a stray wave ruining my expensive clothes, although the surf is calm.
"What do you think'll happen?" I ask Dylan.
"Who knows? Liam is a fucking idiot."
"He's doing what's right for him," I say.
"Sure, but not in the right way."
I move to stand in front of Dylan, slide my hands behind and untuck his shirt to touch his toned back. "I think the situation is sad, but not our business."
Dylan pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around so tightly I can hardly breathe. "I won't do that to you."
"I wouldn't marry you if I thought you would," I say, pulling away.
Whenever I acknowledge we're getting married, Dylan's face transforms into one of pure happiness that I wish I could bottle and keep forever. I'm overwhelmed by the idea—not of Dylan and me, but of the public scrutiny I still need to learn to live with.
Dylan tugs my hand and we slosh through the water. "We should go home. I'll get angry with Liam if I see him again. The other guys can deal with this."
"Not until I've found some shells," I say and poke Dylan in the side.
“I bet I find the best one.” He lets go of my hand and strides away.
The white sand and lack of seaweed makes this beach a much more pleasant shell-hunting environment, definitely compare to our last frozen hunt across the beach in Cornwall. My childish side melds with Dylan's and we compete, fighting over the shells when we think we’ve found an intact one. Eventually, I find the perfect, smoothest, spiral twice the size of any in my box in Broadbeach.
"Ha! I win!" I hold up the shell.
Dylan is a few metres away and strides toward me hand outstretched with a recognisable smirk on his face. “Show me?"
"I don't think so! Mine!”
