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40
DYLAN
Summer.
We promised a celebration for family and friends, for the disgruntled relatives and disappointed acquaintances. Sky and Dylan never had their wedding of the year; but Sky and Dylan had the wedding they wanted.
Following endless discussions and attempts to talk ourselves out of the situation, we agree to shift the focus from just our marriage to a celebration of love, life, and success. The band members’ lives diverge more and more as the months pass. Jem and Ruby remain closed off or busy with Ruby Riot, Bryn’s crazy change of pace sees him in Australia a lot, and Liam’s the only one we see much of. Sky and Cerys are friendly and spend a lot of time together when we’re in London, which is great for Sky.
The music industry lauded my album, but every interviewer who’s game enough to ask wants to know if this is it, Dylan Morgan now a solo artist. I tell them all the same thing: I needed this out of my system, to prove to myself I could. Next year, I’ll take what I’ve learned back to the band, and we can work on blending our creativity again.
This album meant a fuck load to me, but the band means more. There is, and always will be, something special that comes from my collaboration with Jem. The world always saw it, and some in the industry put Morgan and Jones up there with Page and Plant, Jagger and Richards. Never in my eighteen-year-old’s dreams would I’ve predicted that. On the last album, the friction destroyed some of the synergy. The band is now back on track as people, and this will show in the next recording. Blue Phoenix are—and always will be—fucking awesome.
Sky arranges glasses and bottles in the kitchen, insistent she’s involved in overseeing everything rather than the caterers. Invites were extended to close friends and family only, but add in partners and others who’ve talked their way into the event, and more attend than we originally planned.
I study her for a moment, at the blue summer dress moulding the curves I can never keep my hands off. I hope this is one with buttons down the front. Rhys sits on the floor next to her in a seat, watching his mum. How can I have enough love in my heart to give them both the amount they deserve? I don’t know, but I do. Sky was once everything I needed, but now without either of them, I’d be lost.
I did lose her, for the short time she was lost to life in her confusion and despair. She apologises for dragging me down too, but all the pressure came from within myself. I hated I couldn’t fix the situation, that everything was out of my control. My unwavering love for Sky—and watching her strength in the battle she fought and won, seeing my love reflected in her eyes—gave me the strength I needed.
Heading over, I’m about to place a sneaky hand on her ass when she reaches behind to stop me.
“Hello, Dylan.”
“Am I that obvious?”
“Uh huh.” She turns and wraps her arms around my neck, planting a swift kiss on my lips before turning back to her task.
I wrap my arms around her waist, and place my chin on her shoulder. “You don’t need to do this. We have caterers.”
“I like to keep busy.”
I spy the open bottle and wine glass. “Sky...?”
“What?” She turns and gives me an innocent look before reaching for and drinking from her glass.
“Don’t drink too much before the party even starts.”
“I’ve had one glass!” she protests. I raise a brow. “Maybe two.”
“Tara’s arrived.”
“Oh, awesome!” She sets down the glass. “Where are they?”
“She’s on her own.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Sky, all these people started arriving, and I can’t do the host thing without my hostess.”
“Hostess.” She pulls a face.
I lean down, pull Rhys from his seat, and laugh at my son’s T-shirt. “Since when did Blue Phoenix clothes come in baby size?”
“Since the band started procreating. I think he looks cute.”
“Most mums would’ve dressed him up for the occasion. You’re funny.”
She reaches her arms out, and I pass Rhys to her. “He’ll spill drinks over—and possibly be sick—on himself before collapsing and falling asleep. A Blue Phoenix T-shirt suits those activities.”
