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“Stewart,” he mumbled into my shirt, trying to get out of my grip with small pushes against my chest where I’d trapped his hands.

“You stupid bloody idiot,” came out of my mouth in strangled breaths.

“And I think after all this, we’ll all need the kettle on,” Jean said. “I’ve come all this way on a Saturday night, and I’m not sure I’m up for any more drama.” Her heelsclicked against the kitchen floor as she opened cupboards and drawers, getting things together.

I watched her in disbelief, my face still buried in his hair. He had lots of it. What had Reuben said? Balding. Nah. He was perfect just the way he was.

“Don’t you fucking ever do something stupid,” I whispered to him.

Crude. Maybe even rude. But he’d scared me.

“You frightened me,” I continued, “and I know how bloody wrong this all is. But you weren’t answering your phone, and I kept knocking on your door, and I knew you were in here. You can’t do this. Not to me. Not after everything you told me.”

Was I ranting? Yes. Was I proud? I didn’t think I cared anymore.

“I wasn’t…doing anything stupid. Just got a bit overwhelmed. And then I had all these things. Phone calls. I spoke to Constance.”

“Good. But you need to let me know. I can’t just sit here and…you know…”

“Communication,” Jean piped up, listening in to our weird conversation. I couldn’t even explain it to myself.

“Communication is a good thing. And I agree with Stewart. You have people who care, Dylan. Don’t shut yourself off like this. Not without letting people know you’re okay.”

“It’s okay to need space.” I sounded like an idiot, standing here still crushing him against my chest. At least he was more relaxed now, leaning into me. His arms had found their way around my waist. Funny how I liked that.

“I sometimes need a bit of space,” he admitted.

“And sometimes I wind myself into a state where I think the worst has happened.” I needed to think this through. Properly.

“And sometimes, an impromptu trip to have tea with my boss and his friend is a nice little distraction. Even though I missed the film I was going to watch.” Jean. I think I was starting to appreciate her friendship. A lot.

“There is on-demand service, you know,” I said, like I knew what I was talking about. I could barely operate the TV upstairs in the house, and my small set downstairs was supposedly connected to the internet. I had no idea how to use that.

“I haven’t paid the TV licence this year,” Dylan said.

I loosened my grip on him, but he stayed where he was, watching Jean from under his fringe with my hands in his. Like we did.

Haircut. He probably needed one. I could get Gray’s stylist in. They’d do it for free. Or I could take him down to the barber’s.

Or maybe I could mind my own bloody business for once.

“I wouldn’t know how to get Netflix without getting my grandson over to log me in,” I admitted. Dylan smiled.

“You are old, Stewart.”

“I’m starting to realise that.”

I was blushing. In what world had I thought this all through?

This one apparently, as he leant up and gave me a small kiss on the cheek.

“Jean told me to do that,” he said as Jean let out a small laugh.

“I’m a good adviser,” she said. “I also have a spare of the spare key. I suggest you let me give that one to your man here, so I won’t have to traipse across town every time you get preoccupied.”

“Preoccupied.” Dylan shook his head. “I wasn’t actually preoccupied. I was making decisions. Not my usual thing, I agree. But I have. I spoke to Gun Larsen.”

“Did you? On a Saturday night?” Jean asked, like this was a completely normal occasion.