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Sky strokes my arm. “Everything will be fine.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t go away again next month.”
“No, Dylan. You need to. This is your last chance to finish things. Any later and you’ll be up to your elbows in nappies.” Dylan pulls a face. “I’ll have four weeks to go, and if this baby is like either of us, she’ll be stubborn and late. Most first time mums are.”
“Yeah, but—”
“France, Dylan. If I did go into labour, you’d be back in hours, and I doubt this will be quick. I’ll get checked out before you leave and see what the midwife thinks. If she thinks there’s any chance baby could be early, then I’ll make you stay. Otherwise, go. This is important to you.”
I wrinkle my nose. “You know, you can be too supportive and understanding sometimes.”
“I know. I’m just amazing,” she says, tongue in cheek.
“But you can be stubborn and impossible to say no to, a lot.”
“I know that too.”
Standing, I pull Sky to her feet. “I just want everything to be perfect and you both to be safe.”
“Nothing’s ever perfect, Dylan, but we’ll sure as hell try to get as close as possible.”
