My first morning as Mrs. Dylan Hale. Wait, was it Mrs? Lady? Oh lord, I was going to have to figure this shit out. Could I even say oh lord anymore if I was actually married to a lord?
My first morning as Dylan’s wife, and I woke to the smell of coffee and toast. My favorite toast—seeded rye with lots of butter. I fluttered my eyes open and saw the delicious breakfast on my nightstand. Then I felt Dylan’s hand stroke my back.
“Baby,” Dylan said. “It’s nearly eight. Do you have to work?” He looked slightly pleading as he asked the question. “Let me rephrase: Can you get out of working?”
I smiled, because there was nothing I wanted more than to get out of working. Technically, it was our honeymoon. But technically it was also the opening day of the pop-up store. My shoulders sank, and he knew as well as I did that I had to go.
“I have to go to the store, and I committed to a month, but then I want to go home, to London, with you. Can you stay? Work from here for another two weeks?”
“Damsel.” He looked at me like he was explaining something to a child. “Don’t you understand? I never want to be apart from you again. Of course I’ll work from here for the next two weeks. Just promise to get your arse home to me every night.”
And I did.
For two weeks we lived our New York life. Dylan worked from an office at the Yale Club, working on the final touches for the Olympic Stadium, checking in on Humboldt from afar, and conducting preparations for the MI6 operation of some kind—apparently, against all my hopes, he was going to have to go through with it after all. I went to SoHo for the pop-up shop, and the days were a blur with sales and press exceeding all of our expectations. And I found myself daydreaming about what exactly my career might look like when we got back.
We just went about our days. One night we hosted a dinner party for Daphne and the rest of my college friends. Other nights we went back to Great Lakes and had a drink with the guys before coming home and ordering takeout. And other nights we walked to Prospect Park, went to the movies, and made our own version of Brooklyn life—not the one I’d known before him—the one we made together.
We were married, and we felt it. It was as though our little world, the one that consisted of Dylan and Lydia and all of our wants and needs and inside jokes and annoyances and private gestures, grew. That world expanded, made its mark. And the rest of the world felt like it was falling away. I was pretty sure this is what a honeymoon was supposed to be, even if ours was happening on the fourth floor of a Brooklyn brownstone. And there were nights we just stayed in. Dylan made sure we took our marriage consummation duties very seriously; by the end of the two weeks, I seriously doubted there was any part of me he hadn’t consumed.
* * *
We decided to fly back to London late on a Saturday afternoon. So that morning I woke early to pack and try to put the apartment back together for the management company. A tenant would likely be moving in the next month, and I needed to make sure all of my personal belongings were put back in the storage closet.
“I think we should keep this place, use it,” Dylan said, while I was taping up a box of my dad’s stuff that I planned on bringing by the bar for the guys.
“What do you mean?” I finished that box and started moving the boxes that would stay here back into the closet. Otherwise we were ready to go.
“This is your home, I want it to be our home. Or, one of them, rather.” Dylan held up the framed photograph of my father and me at my high school graduation, and then turned it back so he could look at it. “You were adorable. I love this picture.”
“It was a good day.” I smiled back at him as he approached me and wrapped his strong arms around me. “But, Dylan, this is New York. We live in London.”
“I come here for work. So do you. There are people here who love you. We should come back more and stay here. I love this side of you. And I love this place. This will always be the place where we were first married, baby. I don’t want other people staying here. It’s yours. It’s ours.”
I thought about it and immediately wondered why I hadn’t thought about it myself. He was right. It was perfect, it was me.
“Okay,” I said. “Deal.”
Dylan reached behind me into one of the open boxes and picked up a photo of me and a bunch of high school girlfriends before prom. “If you’d been at my school, you would have had a boyfriend.”
“If I’d been at your school, I would have been twelve when you were a senior.”
Dylan chuckled above me. “You know what I meant.” He swatted my behind. “Now we’re taking some of these. I want your pictures in our London house.”
“Our London house.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Feels different now, doesn’t it? Like before it felt like we were playing pretend when I called it our house. Now it feels real.”
“It’s always been real.” Dylan looked around the apartment. “So does that mean we’re done here then?” He looked around, and he was right. Especially if no tenants were going to come in, we were ready to leave.
“Yeah, I guess we are.” It was going to be strange reinhabiting this place, reclaiming it, even from afar.
“Good. Then let’s get going.” Dylan grabbed my bag and handed it to me.
“Where are we going?” I looked at Dylan’s watch—we still had a few hours before we’d planned on heading to the airport.
“To meet your father.”
* * *
When Dylan said he wanted to see my father’s grave, I felt guilty. Like I should have thought of that myself. But the truth was I still wasn’t used to the idea that I could visit him like that. That his grave was someplace I could go.
We rode in the car in silence. No tension, just quiet. My hand was in Dylan’s and he twisted my rings between my fingers. They still felt so new to me. I hadn’t even had a chance to get used to the engagement ring before Dylan had fixed it there with a wedding band. When we got to the cemetery, I realized I hadn’t been there since the funeral. And in that moment, I realized just how avoidant my grieving had been. I was looking out the window, passing the uniform grave markers, flowers adorning some, others long abandoned, and I realized that I hadn’t been ready before. Ready to talk to him while still acknowledging he was gone.
Dylan leaned against the edge of the car and nodded, indicating that I should go ahead. He obviously realized I might need time alone with my dad before introducing him to my husband.
I walked slowly to the grave, noticing how odd it was that grass grew there now. The fresh pile of dirt long gone. I laid the bouquet of flowers we’d stopped for at the base of the marble stone, and waited. I waited for the tears. But the funny thing was that they didn’t come.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been before, Dad.” I looked down at the grass, as though he could see me through it. “I know. I know you didn’t expect me to. You told me to go live life to the fullest, and well, boy did I take that directive seriously.” I actually found myself laughing, thinking about how he’d be laughing right along with me. I looked back to Dylan, who smiled at me. “See that guy? You’re not going to believe it, but we got married two weeks ago. That’s right, married. Your straitlaced, careful, responsible daughter married a man she’s known for less than a year. Can you believe it? Yes, he’s good enough for me. I promise. He’s kind and funny and generous, and so talented. And he’s helped me, Dad. The way he loves me, it’s like I can see myself more clearly. It’s like just by loving me, he’s helping me become who I want to be. You’d really like him.” I paused for a minute imagining an alternate universe in which they could shake hands and have conversations. “Our life is back in London, so I won’t be able to visit as much as I want, okay?” There was the first tear; I wiped it from my cheek. “But, Dad, I love you. And I miss you. And I think about you every day. I’m doing really well over there, with work, with Dylan. I think I understand why you loved living there so much.” I sighed and looked to the sky.
I looked back to my father’s grave, and whispered to him. “I’m happy, Dad. I want you to know that. So wherever you are, you can rest easy. There is someone here taking care of me.”
“And your daughter takes care of me.”
Dylan had approached so quietly, I couldn’t be sure how long he’d been there. He placed his hands on my hips from behind and pulled me against him. I took his hands and wrapped them around my body, hugging him to me. “Dad, this is Dylan.”
Dylan turned me around and placed his fingers beneath my chin, prompting me to look into his eyes. He wiped away a tear I didn’t even know was there.
“Can I have a minute with your father?” he asked, both with his words and his eyes.
I nodded and kissed him slowly on the lips before walking away.
I took up his spot by the car and watched him. This tall, imposing figure looking down at my father’s grave. His broad shoulders and lean waist. He actually wore his hoodie with his fancy jeans. Somehow even with a hoodie he looked like a duke. Some things couldn’t be helped. I had no idea what he was saying, or if he was even speaking at all. But somehow, this moment, maybe even more than standing before a clerk and exchanging rings, made me feel like he was my family.
And thinking of family, I knew we had one more stop to make before we went to the airport.
* * *
“Thanks for doing this with me. I know you don’t really know them.” We were standing outside the Franklins’ apartment. I’d had dinner with them the first week I was back in New York, but we hadn’t discussed Dylan. I was sure this was going to be a shock.
“They’re important to you. Of course I want to see them.”
I leaned up to kiss him, our hands intertwined, and my lips were still on his when the door to the loft swung open. I could feel the blush spread across my face as I turned to see Charles and Maddy at the door, quickly followed by Kate and Cole.
“Mommy! That man was kissing Lydia!” Dylan started laughing, and I covered my face with my free hand, a little less mortified than I had been in Canada when Maddy asked Dylan if he loved me after I’d known him for about ten minutes, but mortified all the same.
“Maddy. What did we say about saying everything that comes to our mind?” Kate asked her seven-year-old daughter.
“Sometimes it’s not appropriate,” Maddy recited back as though bored by the entire concept of appropriateness.
“Yes, I was kissing her,” Dylan said, looking at Maddy. “What do you think of that?” I noticed Cole couldn’t have been more bored by this topic, and just drifted over to me, hugging my leg.
“You’re just like Anna and Kristoff,” she said. “So I guess that’s okay.”
Dylan looked at me, confused.
“Disney characters,” I explained quietly, and he nodded in understanding.
“Glad to have your approval, Maddy, because I intend to kiss your friend Lydia here often. For the rest of my life in fact.”
My eyes shot to his. I hadn’t exactly thought we’d get to this place in the conversation before we’d even gotten past the front door. He was smiling. The man couldn’t help himself. I looked to Kate and Charles, who were looking at each other. Then at me. Then at our hands, where our rings were still shiny and new. Then back to me.
I shrugged my shoulders and found that I couldn’t keep the smile from my face. “Surprise,” I said softly.
“You’re engaged?” said Kate, eyes wider than I’d ever seen them.
“Married, actually,” said Dylan before I could respond.
Eyes even wider.
A slightly awkward moment passed before Charles clapped his hands, grew his own big smile, and said, “This calls for Champagne!”
“Oh my goodness! This is so exciting. Come in. Come in. I want to hear everything.”
“You’re married?!” Maddy screeched as she grabbed Cole’s arm and twirled him into the room. The poor boy was slightly confused by all the fuss.
Over the next hour, Dylan and I told them our story. While I braided Maddy’s hair “like a mermaid,” we told them about the run-ins we’d had with the media, about how we’d decided to lay low with the engagement, and about our very small spontaneous wedding. Eventually Cole and Maddy decided they’d had enough of sharing me with the grown-ups and dragged me into their playroom. I looked back to Dylan, who smiled at me, and to Kate and Charles, who were riveted by Dylan. They’d met him a few times before, in Canada, where we’d met, but I had a feeling it was different seeing him as my husband rather than a friend’s nephew. He was just starting to proudly tell them about the store and everything I’d been doing in London, when I disappeared down the hall with the children.
Even in just the nine months I’d been gone, they’d grown so much. They showed me their new toys, and Maddy showed off how much her reading had improved by reading aloud a chapter book. Meanwhile, Cole sat in my lap with a deck of cards, patiently waiting to explain the rules of a game he’d learned. And it was heaven.