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“I’m yourfriend,” he said in a voice that suddenly carried strength.

I liked it. I really did.

“Thank you.”

“Stop thanking me.”

“I need to.”

We went quiet again, at a standstill in the thick London traffic. People milled around, accompanied by the sound of car engines mixed with honking horns and screeching tyres and my heavily beating heart as I tried to process everything that had been thrown at me.

I was weak. I had been weak. My mistakes were unforgivable, yet I felt… I didn’t even know what I was feeling. The constant exhaustion, the fear…

“You should cut down on Jean’s coffee. Your hands are shaking.”

Trust him to call me out on that one. But that was Stewart.

I reached out and laid my hand on his. Then froze up in fear.

What the heck was I doing?

“Is it bad?” I asked, hoping he’d believe I’d only done it so he could gauge the caffeine tremors…or something. It had nothing to do with how terrified I was. Nothing at all. Fear. Didn’t know her.

Lies, total lies, as he grasped my hand, gave me warmth and something solid to hold on to in a world where my footing was constantly losing grip.

“You’re okay, Dylan,” he said quietly.

“I’m terrified. Terrified of what she’s doing, and in all honesty, I don’t want to destroy Veronica. She’s a decent person, deep down. The mother of my children. Intelligent and structured, and we used to have such a goodtime together. We travelled and worked and bought that house, and our future was so bright. Until it wasn’t. A lot of that was my fault.”

“Don’t say that. There are two people in every relationship.”

“I was so besotted with her. Couldn’t believe she wanted to be with me, this gorgeous, successful woman who had everyone eating out of her hand. Including me. I didn’t think it was a bad thing, not at the time. Then it just became…who I was.”

He was still holding my hand, driving with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting gently on the centre console, my fingers entwined with his.

Weird. But I held on. And the words kept coming.

“She didn’t want a third child. I did. Desperately so. When she fell pregnant, I was overjoyed. She cried. The pregnancy wasn’t easy on her, and then Phinneas was born, and she failed to bond with him. Couldn’t bear to hear him cry, so I slept in the nursery with him and did the night feeds and tried to take all the stress away from her, when I should have helped her. But I loved him. I wanted him, so much. And I loved being at home with him, spending all my time with him in a sling and taking the other two to school, just being a dad. Those yearswere the happiest years of my life. And then Veronica took all of that away from me. Overnight. One morning, I dropped them at school and went to a meeting, and when I got back, my children were gone and my life was over.”

“It wasn’t over. You can’t give up. Remember what Constance said?”

“Means nothing in the world of family law. Veronica has sole custody. There is a no-contact order in place.”

“Why?” he asked.

The pang in my chest was back. The black hole that just wouldn’t go away.

“I was late. I’d taken the kids out in Miami, and we’d had a fabulous day. The kids’ nanny was with us, taking pictures of all of us at the beach, playing around. I had a glass of wine with our evening meal at a beach café. It was a lovely evening, and…I don’t know. It was just one glass of wine.”

“And?”

“That was it!” I shrieked. “I wasn’t irresponsible. I had a rental car, the kids were all in car seats and strapped in, and I drove safely home. The police met us outside the apartment complex and demanded to breathalyse meas the goddamn nanny took my kids away. I never even got to say goodbye. Next day, the first court order went through. Drunk driving, late drop-off, you name it. But you see? I never got to see the readings, so I have no idea what those readings were. I hadn’t had anything else to drink and had eaten dinner, so I don’t believe for a second I was over the limit. Perhaps it was irresponsible. Perhaps it was wildly so. But I was happy. I had the best day with my children, and it felt like a holiday, and…”

I was crying. I had no idea how, but I knew why. Because there had been so many simple blunders. I’d been stupid and walked straight into every trap Veronica had set for me.

“She did it all the time. Put things in my way. I’d rent a car, she’d insist on a different model if I was taking the kids out and so would refuse visitation. She wanted to pre-approve any place I took the children, then would randomly veto my plans and dispute whatever I said. I danced to her demands. Every bloody time. The nanny had to come everywhere, and she was taking photos and reporting back on my every move. It was exhausting. And all she was doing was building a case for dismissing me. Making me look incapable. Irresponsible. Bad.”

“Oh, Dylan.”