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“When I was served papers in a hotel room in Miami. I bought enough pills to do a good job of it, alongside two bottles of bourbon. I’d been hanging around for days, trying to get Veronica to pick up the phone. Constance’s phone was switched off. They’d called the police on me every time I tried to visit. I was losing my mind. I was already in a state, having to fly out for a week to spend time with my children and then being denied access after one day. I couldn’t cope. I wasn’t rational. And I…”

I took a deep breath. He squeezed my biceps, strong hands holding me together as my body trembled.

“I get it.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Then tell me.”

“I took all the tablets, downed them with the entire contents of the first bottle, smashed up the room in the process…then threw myself over the balcony.”

“Okay.”

How the fuck was he so calm?

“I was on the first floor.” Deep breath. “I landed on the awning below and did my shoulder in. I didn’t even have a concussion, but I had to have my stomach pumped and all that. It didn’t look too good in front of the judge. I agreed with him and signed everything that was put in front of me, without even reading it. I wasn’t fit to care for my children, so I gave in. Agreed to everything Veronica wanted. I flew home a week later with a pending criminal case and a massive fine, paid for the damage to the hotel and for the room clean-up. And that was it.”

“Dylan.”

“I had a spousal visa, which got revoked, due to those charges. If I try to return to the States?” I shrugged.

“I see. Go on.”

Brave. He made me brave. And it was suddenly so easy.

“I…have thought about ending it. Many, many times. But I can’t even do it right. I’m not a good person. I’m weak, and I’m frightened of the end. I have nowhere to run anymore and so little hope left. Because I destroyed everything, and the little courage I had left—I think Gun Larsen beat that out of me this morning. She was right. I made some incredibly bad decisions. And most of all, Itrusted my wife when I knew full well she was fucking me over from every angle. Gun’s words, not mine.”

“We all put trust in the people we love.”

“I loved her for a very long time. Even when I signed the divorce papers and she laughed at me in court. And then she got remarried to that Brandon, and—”

“You didn’t try to kill yourself.”

He said it so matter-of-factly, like it wasn’t a big deal.

“No,” I confirmed. “I was too numb by then. I don’t think I even took it in at the time.”

“I can understand that.”

I felt detached, like my body was no longer my own, just a continuous wave of emotions surging through me. Nausea. Relief. Anger. Pain.

Needy.That was what Veronica used to call me. Needy. Co-dependent. Unable to function without her holding my hand.

Perhaps she’d been right. I’d just…

“Dylan. Whatever you felt you needed to do at the time doesn’t matter anymore. Because you’re still here. You’re right here, living, breathing and fighting. That is whatmatters. If you even get the right to phone Constance once a week, that would be a massive improvement, wouldn’t it? An achievable first compromise. I mean, I know nothing about family law, but she obviously wants you to be a part of her life, and at sixteen, perhaps her voice can be heard.”

I almost let my mouth get the better of me, wanting to blurt out excuses about it not being that simple, but I managed to swallow down the words, hoping I was turning a corner. I wanted to do better, be a different person, start over with all that gusto and bravery Stewart seemed to have. Guts.

“I want my children back, and I just want to live.”

Gun had taught me well. Vocalising my needs and wants was something I’d never been good at.

“Then let’s start over. Let’s try to be happy?”

Was it a question? An answer? I didn’t know, but he wrapped me up in a hug, and I found my face pressed into his chest. He smelled like home, the soft scent of tea and laundry mixed with a whiff of his deodorant.

I didn’t mind. I needed it. Wanted it. All of this. Just to feel safe and cared for and most of all…