Dylan first appeared way back in my Zoe series when he was very single, very cute and very capable of delivering babies...
“Oh, my God!”
I looked up at Phoebe from where I was trying to fit a load of the freshly delivered button-holes and bouquets into our special chiller cabinet, “What?”
“My water just broke.” She wailed.
I stared at her. No way. This couldn’t be happening. “What?” I repeated. Yes. I know I’d heard her perfectly well but I really didn’t want her to have just said that and I was stalling.
“MY WATER JUST BROKE!” She screamed at me at the top of her voice, “DO SOMETHING ZOE!”
I panicked. Running to the bottom of the stairs, I called for back-up “DYLAN!” I yelled, “I NEED YOU!”
He came belting down the stairs, “What?” he asked, his massive blue-green eyes full of fear, “Are we being held up?”
I shook my head, wondering what sort of a person would hold up a wedding planner business. “Phoebe’s gone into labour!” I shouted, even though we were now practically nose-to-nose, “Do something!”
He looked at me as if I was quite mad. Pulling out his mobile phone he calmly dialled 999, “Ambulance, please.” He said politely as I panted next to him, a total sweaty mess. Of course. I could have done that…
He ended the call and smiled at me, “We just have to keep her calm and safe while we wait.” He said.
Cool…
Only it wasn’t cool. The baby wasn’t prepared to wait for the emergency services. She was as impatient as her mother and she wanted out of that cosy space.
“Oh, God.” Phoebe whimpered, “I need to push.”
“Oh, my God.” I whimpered, “I think I’m going to pass out.”
“Oh, God.” Dylan whimpered, “I’m not good with girl-parts.”
“Well, I can’t do it.” I said.
Phoebe looked at the pair of us, hatred for our pathetic-ness oozing out of every pore, “Please.” She said, “Just pretend I’m your pet cat or something.”
Dylan nodded resolutely, “I can do that.” He said bravely. He turned to me, “Zoe.” He said, “put a couple of towels or something under her while I go and wash my hands.”
I nodded. Running around like a headless chicken for a good minute, I finally found something that would suffice as ‘a couple of towels or something’ and Dylan re-appeared wearing a clean apron (I know – he really was amazing). He’d discarded his suit jacket and had rolled up his sleeves and he was talking to someone on FaceTime, “They haven’t turned up yet,” he was saying, “And the baby is definitely crowning.”
How did he even know what he was talking about? I had no idea what he was talking about.
The person on the other end of the phone clearly did though, “Okay, sweetie,” she said, “Ask Phoebe if she went to classes and learned how to breathe through the pain.”
Phoebe was listening as intently to the phone conversation as Dylan and I and she nodded, “Yes,” she panted, “I did.”
“Good. Hello Phoebe, I’m Harriet – I’m Dylan’s mum and I’m also a midwife. I want you to breathe slowly and deeply through your nose…”
I tuned out a bit. I felt nauseous enough and seeing Phoebe, propped on cushions on the floor with only a towel covering her modesty but with her legs really wide apart was making me feel even worse. I had no idea how Dylan was coping.
“Dylan,” Harriet said, “What’s happening downstairs?”
Dylan lifted the towel, “Oh, God.” He whimpered again, “Baby’s a little further out. Do I have to touch anything?”
His mother chuckled, “Turn the camera around, sweetie,” she said, “I’ll take a quick look.”
We all waited as he turned the camera around and let his mother see Phoebe’s girl-parts. “Not yet,” she said, “You’re doing really well, Phoebe.”
Phoebe made a sound that was barely human.
I ran to the toilet...
I’d had the worst day possible. Let’s make that the worst day possible in the worst month possible…
Not only was I suffering with the worst heartbreak I’d ever felt but I’d also missed the train back home from uni to get to work, so I’d gotten into work late, which wasn’t so bad, really – let’s face it, no one really cared since you only got paid for the time you did, but I was then put on checkouts... All I wanted to do was skulk in the shadows of the warehouse, so I could nurse my broken heart alone and not have to talk to anyone...
Now, though, I had to be the cheerful face of the supermarket – at its most cheerful time of the year – Christmas. Great. I was feeling as un-Christmassy as it was possible to feel. I saw no joy whatsoever in the twinkly lights and the music made me want to put my fingers in my ears and hum loudly just to stop myself from being able to hear it. Being the cheerful face of Hancock’s was quite possibly the last thing I wanted to do...
And just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse. The fucking sparkly, beautiful twink walked into the shop, wearing a Santa hat – in sparkly pink with rainbow coloured trim.
“Ohhh, God.” I murmured to myself as I watched him swinging his perfect little behind around the aisles. Little bastard. He wasn’t even the type Dante had ever shown any interest in before. Why now? Why did he have to cheat on me with someone like that?
I looked up and pasted on a smile for the old fellow buying cat food. It occurred to me in that moment that I was like looking into the face of my future self. I’d be this old dear, forty years from now ... buying my cat special packets of food because it was the love of my sad and lonely, little life... I swallowed painfully. I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t live my life without Dante. I just couldn’t do it.
“It might never happen.” He said with a grin.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced another smile for the company, “What?” I asked.
He shook his head, “There’s no need to put on a cheerful façade for me, son.” He said, “I recognise heartbreak when I see it.”
I nodded, “My boyfriend cheated on me.” I said, “With him.” I nodded towards the sparkly twink.
The old guy turned and looked at him and then back at me, “Was he blind?” he asked, raising his eyebrows incredulously.
I shrugged, “I’d like to think he was at least drunk.” I muttered, “But I don’t even think he was that.”
The old guy shook his head, “Well, son,” he said, “I hope you find someone else that treats you right. You seem like a very nice young man to me.” He winked, “If I was only forty years younger.”
I laughed and gave him his change.
I looked up to the next customer and my heart almost dropped through my arse. It was only the twink...
*
He smiled at me nervously. I glared back at him, the supermarket ‘smile’ policy be damned...
Rolling his eyes, his smile got a little wider, “It’s taken me weeks to find you.” He said in his ridiculous voice.
I blinked, “You’ve been looking for me?” What the hell?
He nodded earnestly, “I believe I gave you the wrong impression the other week. I was apologising for kissing your boyfriend goodbye... I can promise you, nothing else happened between us. He wasn’t, uh... he wasn’t actually interested in me.” He blushed and his beautiful little rosebud mouth turned down, “Which is a real shame because, as I’m sure you’re aware, he was gorgeous.”
I raised an eyebrow. I couldn’t actually argue the point. He was gorgeous... “Your point?” I ground out.
He smiled, “My point is that I feel as if I was somehow partly to blame for you and he breaking up – and I wanted you to know that he didn’t do anything other than talk to me at the party. He talked a lot about you being into girls – well, one girl really – Isobel? He had a bit of a thing about that.” He shook his head and the hat’s bell rang, reminding me strongly of Noddy, “I don’t know what’s going on with you guys but he seemed really nice and I wanted to tell you that you were throwing something really good away if you threw him away.”
He was bright pink at the end of his little speech and matched his hat beautifully. He’d come here to defend Dante.
I didn’t know what to say.
“Anyway,” he busied himself gathering his purchases together and stuffing them into his bags, “I just came in to say that.” He sounded slightly flustered and I guessed that he didn’t do this sort of thing every day. He was undoubtedly telling me the truth.
I nodded, “Thanks.” You’re a month too late. He’ll have definitely moved on by now. Dante can’t go a couple of days without dick.
He smiled sweetly, “You’re welcome.” He said softly, “Merry Christmas.” He left as suddenly as he’d arrived.
“What do you think they’ll all say?” I asked.
He blinked as he turned and fixed me with his big, green eyes. He smiled, “They’ll all be delighted, sweetheart.” He said.
I smiled back at him, “You don’t think they’ll be horrified that I’ll be a bride instead of a groom, do you?”
He frowned, “Honey,” he said, “They see us pretty much every weekend. How many of those weekends have you rocked up in jeans or sweats and without makeup?”
I chuckled, “About twice.” I said, “And it shocked the hell out of them – particularly when I had my hair up and that hat on – they thought you’d dumped me and gone out with a guy.”
Karl laughed, “So, why would they worry if you got married in a dress? I sure don’t care. As long as you’re there, I’ll be like a pig in shit.”
So eloquently put…
I was bubbling over with excitement to invite them all to our wedding. They’d all gotten married, years back and they were all popping out babies these days. I couldn’t deny that the idea of becoming a parent was daunting. I still struggled from time to time actually dealing with being me and I still had the odd meltdown about Karl being better off with someone less flaky – but they were few and far between. I’d learned to accept that he loved me, warts and all. Hell, he’d seen me at my absolute worst and still loved me, so who the hell was I to argue?
And I loved him more than I could ever explain. It was all-consuming. I couldn’t imagine my life without him in it – right alongside me, for always.
Marriage was absolutely the right thing for us.
We’d been to a wedding a couple of months back and we’d performed for the two guys getting married. They were big fans of the band and their wedding planner was a guy called Dylan who was friends with the guys.
After I’d seen what an amazing job they’d done, I’d had a word with the little guy, Dylan, who had organised the whole thing and I’d known instantly that he was the guy to plan ours.
“I want three bridesmaids,” I said, thinking of Misty, Fizz and Tina.
Dylan nodded earnestly, “Are they all queens, too?” he asked, looking up at me.
Instantly loving him for being so intuitive, I nodded and sat down at a nearby table, indicating for him to come over and join me to discuss it in detail.
Within a few minutes, Dylan had outlined the entire day for me and had given me a ball park figure for his fee. I couldn’t wait to tell Karl…
At last the day had arrived. Our wedding day. I was so excited I hadn’t been able to sleep a wink the night before – and Trey had been just as bad. We’d spent half the night whispering and giggling with each other the way we used to do when we were kids.
We were, therefore, a little bleary eyed at breakfast, which was stressing out our wedding planner, Dylan, no end.
“Oh, my God!” he shrieked when we stumbled into the kitchen, scratching our chests, farting (that was Trey, not me) and yawning. “What the hell happened? You went to bed looking beautiful last night!”
I shrugged, “Couldn’t sleep.” I said with another yawn, “So we talked all night.”
He shook his head, “Well,” he huffed, “It’s a good job I have excellent make up skills.”
I grinned and ruffled his hair, “Oh, Dylan.” I said fondly, “I’m really going to miss you when you leave us.”
He smiled, “I’m going to miss you guys, too.” He said mistily, “Now let’s do something about that luggage beneath your eyes.”
He grabbed hold of my hair and yanked my head back.
“Steady on!” I gasped, “I’m sensitive you know.”
Dylan chuckled, “Yeah, sure you are.” He said, “About as sensitive as a teaspoon.”
Trey grinned, “And I bruise like a peach – just so you know.” He quipped.
Dylan raised an eyebrow, “Is he always like this?” he asked.
I nodded, “Totally.” I agreed.
“Oh, Fort,” Mum’s eyes filled with tears, “You look so beautiful.” She turned to the wedding planner, who was looking every bit as teary, “Doesn’t she look beautiful, Dylan?”
Dylan, who had been recommended to us by one of Mum’s friends, nodded, “She looks amazing,” he gushed, “Just amazing.”
I smiled and turned back to the mirror. I did look amazing, there was no denying it.
My queens had come up trumps and had got me an Italian designer dress, complete with beaded veil and the most delicately jewelled tiara to finish the look.
I was a bride and a half… Blake wasn’t going to know what had hit him when Dad walked me up the aisle towards him…
We were getting married at the marina. Well, it totally made sense – the weather was perfect and the venue was incredible – because we’d tailored it to us perfectly.
All of my queen friends were coming, some of Blake’s old teammates had been invited – you’ll be glad to know that Sheridan hadn’t – and lots of our other friends and family were coming too. It was going to be one hell of a big party.
Dylan had proved himself to be the most amazing wedding planner – with some really incredible ideas.
“I love that it’s a marina.” He said, twirling around on the spot and taking in everything, “Weather permitting, we could have your wedding breakfast outdoors, overlooking the reed beds and the nature reserve.”
Blake and I had been totally on board with that idea, “Oh, that would be fabulous.” I breathed.
Blake nodded, “Sounds awesome.” He agreed.
Dylan smiled, “And what about a band or something to serenade you from one of the bigger boats? And then we could get a DJ to provide entertainment, either from your promenade or from the boat for the evening.”
He narrowed his eyes slightly as he looked around; he was clearly visualising our wedding as he gazed around. With a delighted smile on his face, he turned back to us, “With twinkling fairy lights all around – strung along the boats and the promenade…”
Blake grinned, “We could even have a bit of a funfair for the kids.” He suggested.
Dylan’s eyes lit up, “Oh, yes!” he agreed, “Leave it all to me. What’s the budget?”
Dylan answered the door, his eyes red and his lovely little nose all pink. “Oh,” he fluttered his hands in front of his face, “I wasn’t expecting anyone…”
Least of all me, no doubt, since he’d totally told me to go to hell the last time we spoke. “Has someone been upsetting you?” I growled, ready to murder the next person I saw.
“Oh, no – no.” he shook his head, “I was just reading the best book… it’s been made into a movie too...”
I blinked, “You’re crying over a book?” Jeez, my mum and my sister did that – but I’d never done that. “What the hell were you reading?” He held up a book that I vaguely recognised as an award winning ‘gay’ film, “Oh, that.” I nodded. It was, apparently, a bit of tear-jerker but I wasn’t into stuff like that… Never had been – and not because I was in denial. I just didn’t like chick-flicks… or whatever the gay equivalent to that was…
“It was brilliant.” He said, sounding like he had a bad cold. “Brilliant but very sad.”
I nodded, “Okay. I don’t know how to respond to that. I don’t like sad films. I like action movies.”
He rolled his eyes, “God, you’re just like Zoe.” He muttered. He looked back up at me, "I don’t want to be like Oliver and Elio.” He said.
I looked at him blankly. What the actual hell was he on about? “Who?” I asked.
He held the book up in exasperation. He was often exasperated with me and I truly wondered why the hell he liked me, never mind anything else… “The book I read,” he said, “the characters. They fell in love but they couldn’t be together. Well, you know – it was the eighties…”
I frowned at him. What the hell did that have to do with us? “You’re really not making any sense, Dylan.” I said helplessly.
He turned around and fixed me with his frankly mesmerising eyes. I stared back, momentarily lost, “I know I’m not,” he said passionately, “but listen to me – everything ends. We all die.”
I nodded. I had absolutely no idea where he was going with this but I was on board with whatever it was he was trying to say. When he got passionate like this, I couldn’t help myself. He was always stunningly beautiful but when he got all fired up like this, he was utterly compelling and I was like a fly caught in a web…
