Page 24 of Silver Lining (London Love #6)

I ’d left it late but couldn’t stop worrying. The kids had been such a welcome distraction, keeping me occupied, but still. I knew Dylan. I knew his schedule, and his curtains were still drawn, and it was almost eight at night.

Reuben was jet-lagged and had fallen asleep on the sofa, and I’d just found Gray asleep on Jasmine’s bed, which was my usual cue to go downstairs and settle down for the night.

Easier said than done when all I could think of was Dylan. His skin against mine. The fact that he wasn’t answering his phone, nor his door. And that, with what I knew about him, had me frightened. Worried. Concerned to the point that I rang Jean in a panic.

“You have a key, don’t you?” I said without even introducing myself.

“Yes.” She wasn’t following me. I didn’t blame her.

“Can you come over?” I tried to suggest, but here I was, barking out orders.

“Did you argue?” she queried, moving around. I hoped she was putting her shoes on, grabbing her keys.

“He left this morning, and now I can’t get hold of him. Won’t answer the door.”

“Oh, I see! He’ll just be in a tiff. He should really make sure you have a spare key. I was just sitting down to watch a movie.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. I meant it. I also felt really bad for not trusting him. He needed space. I needed space. I knew all these things and was still tapping my fingers against the tabletop, hoping she would hurry up and get over here.

“I can come pick the keys up,” I offered .

“I’ll come, Stewart. Nothing I haven’t done before, you know.”

“I’m so sorry.”

I paced the room. Went and knocked on the patio doors again, hoping the horrible feeling in my stomach would ease, that he would just open the door, ask why I hadn’t brought tea, smile that little smile he did. Let me stroke his cheek.

In the end, I was pacing the pavement outside, then opening the gate for Jean as she got out of her taxi.

Shame and fear were a heady mix, yet here I was, grabbing the keys from her hand and running across the driveway to get to his house.

Taking the stairs in two double steps, I knocked as I got the key in the lock.

Turned it. Pushed, with Jean hot on my heels.

“Dylan!” I shouted.

Silence. A deafening one. The house dark and empty.

“Dylan!”

Panic. I never panicked. Not these days. Apart from when Jasmine fell off the wooden deck and landed on the trampoline below. Or when Reuben had disappeared as a flighty teen and not come home. People mattered. People really fucking mattered .

I yanked open the door leading to the stairs, almost flattening him coming up them.

Dylan. Still dressed in the shirt from last night, with his phone in his hand.

Dishevelled to the max. Also, he stank.

Not that I cared. I fisted the front of his shirt and pulled him up the last steps, swinging him around like a ragdoll, making his phone fly out of his hand.

Then I hugged him, this stupid, silly man who somehow meant more than anyone else.

I was lying. My son. My grandchildren. Gray. But this guy? He was apparently right there with them. Who would have known?

“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 heels clicked 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.

I now had a cup of tea in my hand and was being led back to the living room. The coffee table was covered in paperwork and an open notepad full of angry scribbles.

“I’m going to put myself through a full psych evaluation again.

Get Social Services to come visit the house and allow full access to my finances.

The company. The works. I have nothing to hide, and that’s the only thing I have to offer right now.

Honesty. Openness. And I will demand that this ridiculous custody arrangement is withdrawn with immediate effect.

I want my kids, however that will look.”

I’d never seen Dylan so determined, standing there in a crumpled shirt.

I sat down on the sofa. Maybe I looked just as dishevelled. I had ketchup on my shirt from dinner, and I was wearing slippers covered in grass from traipsing back and forth over the lawn.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” he continued, pacing the floor, “but I am doing it. I’m putting my trust in the professionals, and if I need to prove that I can actually safely parent my own children, then I will do just that. But I’ll need help. I need so much bloody help.”

He should have sounded distraught, uttering those words. But he didn’t. He sounded strong. Defiant.

“Also, I trust Gun Larsen. I never thought I would, but she’s turning out some solid advice.

I feel like we’re finally moving forward.

It feels good. I have no idea why I didn’t do this before, why I didn’t think of all these things she’s suggesting.

Demanding paperwork. Extracting files. Questioning decisions.

So many questions. I still want to ask more.

And I need to speak to my social worker and ask Constance if she would be willing to speak to them too. ”

“Okay,” Jean said. “I’ll get on to that. I think we’re in a pretty good position for moving forward with things like that. We have a house in good order. We have a functioning company. You’re still on good terms with your GP, I assume? And Doctor Prakesh—the psychologist you were seeing?”

“They’re bringing in an independent assessor,” he said calmly. “Gun’s assured me he’s very thorough and respected. He’ll put me through hell, but I can deal with that. ”

“You can,” I agreed.

Pride. My chest was full of it. My heart?

Fear. Goddamn it. So much fear. And love. Terrifying.

“Well, in that case, I assume I will take this evening’s rest in Constance’s bed again. Can’t be bothered to get another taxi. And if that TV doesn’t work, do you have any crisps?”

“Crisps?” I laughed.

“Yes. Nibbles. Biscuits are for daytime. I like crisps in the evenings. We also need to figure out how to rearrange this living room into a functioning office whilst retaining a family environment. We had all that song and dance last time. I’ll get my daughter-in-law’s friend Navreen on that.

She works for social services, so she can advise us. See what we can get away with.”

“We could…” I began.

Dylan stared at me and then joined me on the sofa. Exhaustion was all over his face. But also?

Hope. So much of it that it made me want to cry.

“I have no clue about these things, and it’s just a suggestion. But maybe…”

“Yes?” Jean leant forward and grabbed the notepad, flicking to a fresh sheet.