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Even the gentlest kiss from Dylan snatches my breath, and the tender kiss he gives switches to possessive as he holds my head and parts my lips to slide his tongue into my mouth. I kiss Dylan back, fall into him, the way I fall a little more each day. With this kiss, we can avoid the lingering sadness underpinning recent weeks.
There’s a movement somewhere in the house, and Dylan drops my face and looks around.
“Everybody is in bed, Dylan.”
Dylan nudges my nose with his. “Your mum still scares me. I can never tell if she’s serious or joking.”
“She’s my mum, why be surprised?”
“True, is every female member of your family snarky?” I poke my tongue out and he drags my legs across his lap. “I have something to tell you, and I think you’ll be mad with me.”
“What? Did you buy me something expensive again?”
“No.” He pushes a hand through his hair before reaching into a pocket for his phone. Dylan swipes his long fingers across the screen. “When I was out in London yesterday, buying you a Christmas gift, I drew some attention.”
“What?” I grab the phone. The images on the screen turn my stomach. Dylan walking along a street with a bag in his hand in one image; a smaller picture inset into the top left corner. The small image is a grainy, zoomed-in photo of his left hand.
More precisely, the gold band on his wedding finger.
No.
“Dylan, we agreed we’d wait until after Christmas to go public about this. What if the press arrive at Mum’s?”
He twists the wedding ring around his finger. “I forgot to take the ring off before I went out. I hate not wearing this. Sky, it’s pointless trying to hide what’s happened.”
“I know but—”
“The reason we hid was because we didn’t want to eclipse Liam and Cerys’s wedding, right? Well that doesn’t matter now because their wedding has happened.”
“You know I want everybody to know I’m Sky Morgan now too. I’m just scared about the reaction. Things have been calmer between us and the press recently.” I sigh. My words aren’t convincing him. “Show me what’s on the site.”
The short article includes another image of our arrival at Heathrow a couple of days after the wedding and speculation we married in Bali. I splutter as I read out loud: “‘What’s that noise? The sound of a million girls’ hearts shattering as Dylan Morgan marries Sky Davis.’ Seriously? Who writes this stuff?”
“Ahem!” He nudges me. “Of course hearts are breaking! Don’t you know who I am?”
I shake my head as he bites back a smile. “Did you do this deliberately?”
“No. I honestly didn’t think because being married to you is part of me now. From now on this ring stays here.” He lifts up his hand. “Wherever I am.”
I smile, but inside the twisting fear starts. Memories of the times Dylan and me were pursued, and waking each day to face people thinking they own our lives now invade my happy Christmas bubble. The sooner we leave Spain and return to somewhere hidden the better because I don’t want life taken out of our hands again.
My biggest fear right now is waking up to a street full of paparazzi outside my Mum’s house, and our attempt at a normal Christmas Day with my family disintegrating into chaos.
