Page 32

I had breakfast at home because Dylan was fretting and running around like a battery-powered toy, so I left him to it, under Jean’s watchful eye. She’d turned up early with two large shopping bags full of food.

“Food suitable for growing children,” she’d said.

Then Dylan had carted out car seats, only then realising they were probably not suitable for a three-year-old and a nine-year-old, so we’d once again rearranged everything and put Jasmine’s seat back in my car .

He was not ready for this.

I was not ready for this.

And he was wearing a suit, to my slacks and open shirt.

Typical Dylan.

I had thought it and taken it all back in shame. This was a huge change for him. And for me. The whole thing had made me feel a little uneasy.

We didn’t fit in each other’s lives. Wrong time. Wrong place. And I didn’t like it.

I needed to step back.

Hence, I was sitting here, spitting crumbs at my son’s kitchen table at seven in the morning. The tea was hot.

“Good tea,” I mumbled.

He looked up at me from under his fringe.

“So this Dylan,” he said tentatively, taking a sip out of his own cup.

“Yes.” I nodded. “I didn’t mean that kind of tea.”

He shook his head.

“Dad, I miss Gray and I’m being all emo, but I don’t do well without him. Isn’t that stupid? ”

“Not really.” I smiled. “It’s no fun when you’re not with the person you love.”

“He lives next door, Dad. You can just sprint across the grass and he’s there, that Dylan bloke. Gray’s in bloody LA, and his phone is off again. I know it’s because it’s in the middle of the night, but anyway.”

“He’s fine. Gray no doubt misses you as much as you miss him.”

“I know. But. Yeah. This Dylan.”

“Yes?”

He was fishing. But it made me smile.

“I need that tea.”

“You’ve got tea.”

“Tea, Dad. What’s going on? Really.”

“He’s picking up his kids from the airport. They’re staying for a bit, and yeah. I’m driving.”

“So are you the…driver? Or are you the guy who just took on three kids as a stepdad?”

“No.” I shook my head. Vigorously. “I don’t know these kids. They’re Dylan’s children, and you’re my son, and it’s… We’re not there. Not yet. ”

“But it’s going well?”

“Yes,” I said weakly.

Was it? It was such a roller coaster of emotions and feelings, and I was still not always a hundred per cent sure where I stood.

Apart from when I was in his bed. Conjoined in—

I couldn’t say it. Couldn’t even think the words without blushing.

“It’s going well. Very well. We just need…time. To figure things out.”

“Have you had sex? Like properly?”

“Reuben!” I roared.

“Oh, fuck off, Dad. You’re, like, blushing again. Things like that are difficult, and you need to—”

“Research. Done that, thank you very much. Now can we not talk about this again? Ever.”

“So old-fashioned.” He sighed, that mischievous grin back on his face.

“But seriously. Can we have him over for dinner? Like normal people? I don’t want to kind of meet him out on the drive and have the awkward, ‘Hello, strange man who weirdly may be my stepfather. Nice to meet you, guy who’s fucking my dad. ’ ”

I didn’t even have the strength to scold him for the language and the assumptions.

“He’s my…partner. Boyfriend. Let’s just leave it at that for now. But yes. Maybe. I’ll ask him, and then I can introduce him properly.”

“I’ve only met him once, and he was naked in your bed downstairs. I’d like to attempt to make a better impression. As your son.”

“When did you grow up and become this polite?” I smirked. He smirked back.

“When the two misfits from Peckham become these twatty wankers who can’t even…” He laughed. I smiled. Then he held his cup up. “I left the teabag in my cup. Disgusting.”

“You didn’t.” I grasped my invisible pearl necklace. Very Gray. What on earth had I become?

“We live in Marylebone now, Father. Can’t do with these uncivilised attempts at tea-making. Whatever will the neighbour think?”

“The neighbour can’t even make a decent cup of tea, son. Has to ask his PA to bring coffee from outside,” I said with a wink.

“And you’re still shagging him?”

He grinned. I did too.

“I never noticed him before,” I admitted. “You know, I can’t remember paying any attention to any of our neighbours because we were all so busy with Jas and Jay, and my life was…different.”

Another realisation. Shocking, really.

“We were both working full time and raising the kids, and we had Agnes to keep things going at home. And Gray was here, and…I actually don’t remember them either. The kids. Perhaps I saw the wife? I don’t know. Didn’t pay attention either.”

“That’s what I keep thinking now. That back then, we never had the chance to stop and look around. Then we both lost our jobs and things…”

“Things stopped. And it was a really good thing. It might have been horrible at the time. I mean, I definitely felt the shock of it. It was frightening, depressing and all that, but Gray kept telling me to breathe. To just take this little quirk of fate as a break from everything. Start anew. It helped, thinking like that. I suddenly had all this time. Free time. Time with the kids, and time to hang out with you. We went to the park every day. Remember?”

“Yes.” I did. Happy times. “We tried to use that outdoor gym.”

“Couldn’t even do five minutes on those monkey bars.”

“But we had fun. The kids thought it was brilliant.”

“They did. Quality time.”

“Silver linings,” I said softly. “An unexpected bonus of being unemployable. Less stress. A lot of fun.”

“Zero income.” He smirked. “Still don’t like that part.”

“You’re the house husband,” I teased.

“Full-time student, thank you very much. And one day, I’ll have a degree. A proper job. It’ll just take some time. And in the meantime, I get to hang out with my kids.”

“And me.”

“And your new hot boyfriend.”

“He’s nice, Reubs. Very normal. Has lived a bit. He’s smart. And he loves his kids more than he loves anything else in the world. ”

“Relatable,” he said flatly. “Speaking of which, I need to take Jas to buy a new school uniform, and then Jay has piano later. Also, I need to get a shop done, and both kids need to see the dentist. Busy day.”

“Need a hand?”

“I’ll text you. Might need dinner sorting. I’ll let you know.”

“Reubs?”

“Yes?”

“I love that you’re back. I needed this. You here. The kids. Normality.”

“Me too,” he said. And in that moment, it was exactly what I needed to hear.

Two hours later, I was standing in Arrivals at Heathrow, my heart still beating too fast after barely getting here on time.

I’d forgotten how insane the London traffic could be, and the walk from the car park to the Arrivals hall was like running a marathon.

I felt out of breath and nervous, and I suddenly didn’t know how to behave around Dylan, who was standing there tapping his feet impatiently.

“Baggage arriving,” he said nervously, pointing at the screen. “And I added Constance back on Find My Friends, but she’s not accepted.”

“Probably hasn’t got network,” I said, like I understood all these things. I wanted to hold his hand, put my arms around him and reassure him that everything was all right. That those kids had been put on that plane and this wasn’t another of his ex-wife’s cruel games.

I’d started to understand where his nerves came from because the more I learnt of his past life, if that had been me, I would probably have crumbled too.

“They’ll be there. Gun Larsen said they would.”

“I don’t trust anyone anymore.”

“You trust me?”

He laughed nervously, rocking on his heels, a small smile on his face .

“I’m not sure. Where did you get that bag from? The one you magicked up for Gun Larsen?”

I had to laugh out loud, because God, that was years ago.

“The Hermès one? She told you about that?”

“Yeah, she used it to peg down some trophy wife, apparently. Then gave it away to her cleaner or something.”

“Unconventional.” I grinned. “But yes. She’s always been very entertaining.

And if you wondered, I didn’t steal it or anything.

Had a guest with several well-dressed wives who were not only charming but more than happy to make a phone call or two for me.

It’s not that hard. Not when you know who to speak to. ”

“Sounds ludicrous.”

“It usually is,” I agreed. “Speaking of which…”

“Dad!” Here was Constance, pushing a luggage trolley with a young boy perched on top of a stack of suitcases.

Dylan was a mess. I knew he’d be, tears running down that handsome face as he tried to hug both children at once, which was when I noticed the woman carrying the smaller boy in front of me .

“You the driver?” she asked, handing me a folder. “Passports, documents. Prescription for Marmaduke. He needs it refilled this week. Okay?”

I wasn’t…the driver. Or maybe I was?

“Here,” she said, trying to hand me the child, who promptly started screaming. Then the woman put him down on the floor, talking sternly to him in Spanish.

Ah. Yes. Children. Never an easy ride. Not quite the fairy-tale creatures they were so often made out to be.

And now Dylan was trying to pick him up as he kicked like a rabid dog.

Okay. We were playing this game then.

But there he was, my Dylan, sitting on the floor in the middle of a busy airport, quietly waiting him out, while the woman, who introduced herself as Pilar, the nanny, rattled off another long list of instructions that I only half took in as the tantrumming child filled the air with rage.

“It’s okay, Pilar,” Constance said. “You go. Don’t miss your flight. Mommy won’t pay you if you do. Go. Run for it.”

“She’s going straight back?” I questioned as Constance rolled her eyes .

“This time without all this.” She sighed. “You’re Stewart, right? I remember.”

“Yes,” I confirmed weakly.

The child was now howling, trying to crawl across the floor as Dylan followed and apologised to people getting in his way.

“He’s…difficult. He also loves Pilar, so yeah. It’s not going to be easy. He won’t let me pick him up either, so good luck with that. Now…”

“Yes?” I said as she pushed me a little further away.

“Marmie has wet himself. Twice. Pilar made him wear a nappy, which he’s deadly embarrassed about. I need to try to change him before we get in the car. He stinks.”

“Okay.” Breaths. Two large ones. “Not an issue. We can do that. Let’s get everyone out of here, and we’ll find a quiet spot.”

“Don’t let Dad get mad at him.”

“I won’t.” Promises, ones I had no idea how to keep.

“And we’re starving, just so you know. Marmie hasn’t eaten since yesterday morning, Phinney threw up on take-off, and yeah. Airline food. ”

I had no clue, did I?

“Would McDonald’s be a horrific suggestion?” God help me. Less than five minutes in and I was already pulling the junk-food card. My son would be horrified.

“Mommy would sue you,” Constance said firmly. “But then, Mommy’s not here, and anything is better than this.”

“Agreed,” I said, turning around and lifting the boy down from the luggage cart. Health and safety and all that. Bah. It was so ingrained in me, thinking I was once again at work. I wasn’t. This was…

“I’m Stewart,” I said, putting him down on the ground.

What was I like? This wasn’t how you met children for the first time. I had done training on this. But the child stank of urine and…

“I’m Marmaduke,” he said, surly.

“You are. What an absolutely brilliant name.”

“It sucks.”

Okay. We were like that then .

“Dylan, do you need a hand?” I tried, turning around to find Dylan standing there with a sobbing child squirming in his arms.

“We’re good. Let’s go.”

“People are staring.” Constance giggled. “Like we’re all being kidnapped. Do you think we should start screaming too, Marmie?” She grabbed her brother’s hand as he let out a laugh.

“Can we?”

“No,” I said sternly.

For heaven’s sake. Someone had to take control here. “No kidnapping. If anyone is getting kidnapped, it’s me. I have no idea who you guys are. Monsters? Aliens from another planet?”

“I feel like one.” Constance grinned. “But it feels good, you know?”

“Welcome home.” I smiled.

She did too. And I thought, just for a second, that this was actually…

God help me. This was…so incredibly normal. And those nerves? I had no idea what I’d been thinking, pushing a luggage cart with Constance and Marmaduke skipping ha nd in hand in front of me. The boy’s wet trousers. The stench of urine. And another howl from the small boy in Dylan’s arms.

“Welcome back, Daddy,” I said, watching Dylan smirk. “I mean it. Now the fun starts.”

“I know,” he said. But he smiled, and I reached out and ruffled his hair, let my hand stroke down his back.

He looked good. Happy. Strong. Like he’d suddenly grown an inch or two, his face cracking open in a smile as the boy kicked out in his arms and once again threw out an almighty wail.

“It’s all good.”

I meant it. Every little word.