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“What the...? Who the hell said that?”
“It’s a thing Dylan, y’know, like you melting girl’s panties.” I snort to myself.
“Can you not?” he says, but he’s grinning too.
“You’re a dangerous man, Mr Morgan.”
Dylan grabs the magazine and throws it to one side. “Kiss me, Mrs Morgan.”
I move my face closer, and he wraps a hand into my hair, stopping me drawing away. “How’re the release plans going?” I ask, mouth almost touching his still.
“Pretty good. Missed you.”
“You’ve only been in London overnight.”
“Wish you’d come with me.”
I untangle my hair from his fingers and draw my head back. “Once we’ve found a new place.”
Our silent acknowledgment why I don’t travel to London with him passes. I no longer want to live in our apartment, suggesting now we have Rhys we should find a family home in London, like Liam’s and Jem’s. The bad associations with the apartment do not help, but I don’t admit this is a bigger reason than wanting a garden for my child who can’t walk yet.
For now, I’m happy in Berkshire, away from the noise and speed of the city confusing my head.
“Are you heading back tomorrow?” I ask.
“Changed my meeting to next week.”
“Again?”
“I should be here, with you. I can’t spend days away working on the album.” He pauses. “I might push back the release date.”
“No, Dylan! You can’t, not because of me. We spoke about this before Rhys was born. Three months, and then we schedule everything.”
“Yeah, but you’re more important. Besides, thanks to Mr Impatient, I had an extra month.”
I shift away and pull on my serious face. “The idea is we move on and make life happen the way we planned, instead of becoming dragged down by this. You can’t fix me. You support me, and I love you so bloody much for that, but I won’t be responsible for screwing this up for you.”
“I feel like I should put my energy into us.”
“I want you to use some of that energy to be the Dylan passionate about his music, following his dreams while still loving and supporting his family. If you need to spend days in rehearsals or meetings, go. I’m fine.”
“But you’re not fine.”
“And we both admit that.” I tense. “Please, don’t let this ruin anything else. I don’t want to argue.”
He rests his feet on the table and taps his toes together. “No point. I’m never going to win arguments with you, am I?”
“Not often. And I’m not backing down on this one. The world needs to hear this album; to see what you can do, because you are amazing.” I poke him. “Even I like this one.”
“You’re a hard taskmaster, Sky.”
“And you need to hold onto who you are.”
On the edge of disagreement, we watch each other warily. My mood fluctuates a lot, and it’s tough on us both. Once a couple become parents, life changes, but for us the challenges would be different. I never expected this to be one of them.
The exhaustion and illness ate away some closeness we had before Rhys arrived, affecting all areas of our relationship. I don’t mean to push Dylan away, and often don’t realise I am, but as new parents who refuse to employ outside help, our energy splits in many directions. I don’t worry Dylan will look elsewhere for attention or escape, apart from on the dark days I can’t imagine why he would love this miserable, tired woman. I have to trust him and not listen to my paranoia.
“And you need to hold onto who you are too,” he says and kisses my hair. My heart warms at his reading my thoughts.
“But I don’t know who she is,” I whisper and rest my head on his shoulder.
“We’ll find her again. My summer Sky will be bigger and brighter than ever, and the world needs to watch out.”
I want to believe him, I really do, but right now, I can only cope with taking a day at a time as I search for her. Dylan’s our cornerstone, stopping me crumbling into a total mess, and in time, we’ll be equal again.
