Chapter Thirty-One

Scarlett awoke to blue sky flooding through the skylight in the hallway, and she turned over to find a gorgeous man gazing at her. ‘Hey there.’

‘Hey yourself, beautiful.’

She stretched languidly, pushing her feet down towards the bottom of the bed, pointing her toes and flexing them. ‘I love that.’

‘You love what?’ He continued to study her as if he couldn’t get enough of her features.

‘Being able to move freely in bed. I hate hotel sheets and the way they’re always tucked in so tightly. I lose the circulation in my feet.’

‘That’s the best you can come up with, is it? Nothing to do with the fact that the man of your dreams is right next to you, in the bed?’

Scarlett giggled. ‘It’s the easiest way to find out if I’m at work, before I open my eyes.’

‘I’ll remember that when I’m on tour in America.’

‘You’re going to America?’

Dylan raised himself up on one elbow and gazed down at Scarlett. ‘Is that a problem?’

‘No. Why would it be?’ She twisted away from him and slid under the duvet, hiding her face.

Dylan slid himself down with her, threw a leg over hers and pulled her around to face him until they were nose to nose. ‘It’s very dark under here,’ he whispered.

Scarlett giggled, already sorry that she’d shown her insecurities, threatening to ruin the day before it started. ‘Why are you whispering?’

‘I thought we had to if we were under the covers, so we don’t wake the monsters.’

Scarlett smiled in the dark. ‘No monsters here — not anymore.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. Monsters in bed are well overrated. Can we surface now please, I think I’m running out of air.’ He shucked off the duvet and breathed in deeply. ‘That’s better,’ he said once they were settled on the pillows once more. ‘So, we have the whole day to ourselves.’

‘Yes, what will we do with our time?’ Scarlett said, smiling cheekily and snuggling into his shoulder.

‘I know a good place to start.’ Dylan trailed a hand down to her breast and leaned in to kiss her.

‘That’s a very good place to start,’ Scarlett said, returning the kiss languidly.

‘I know a song about that,’ Dylan said. ‘We start at the very beginning: that’s A. Here,’ he said, kissing her throat. ‘And we work our way down, like this. Until we get to Z.’ He proceeded to show her what he meant, slowly and tenderly, the frenetic rush of the previous night’s lust having quenched their desperate need for each other.

‘I’m not sure that was what Julie Andrews had in mind, you know,’ Scarlett breathed, as she tried not to groan in pleasure.

‘I’m not hearing any complaints, though,’ Dylan said as he continued to explore Scarlett’s body.

‘None from me. Take your time, we have the whole day,’ Scarlett agreed.

And they took their time as the morning sun climbed high in the sky, until they were ready to tackle the day.

‘We should have some breakfast,’ Scarlett said, as she eventually made to climb out of bed, but Dylan pulled her back down beside him, his urgency surprising her. His eyes were, for once, grave and serious and sent her anxiety soaring. ‘What is it?’ she asked, searching his face.

‘Don’t go to Dubai, please.’

‘Oh.’ Her breath quickened. ‘I don’t really have a choice. What if I asked you not to go on tour?’

‘I have to.’

She raised her eyebrows.

He nodded slowly. ‘Okay, I get it.’

‘I’ve signed a contract,’ she added just to make sure he knew she wasn’t being awkward. Was it declaration, or decision, time? They stared at each other for what seemed an age.

‘We need to sort this out,’ Dylan said finally.

She exhaled, relieved. ‘We do, but I’m not sure how it can be resolved.’

He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘You’re forgetting how great I am.’

She flicked a corner of the duvet at him and escaped from the bed, before he could demand a repeat of the last few hours.

She showered and dressed quickly, preoccupied with their predicament, but determined not to let it get her down.

Dylan prepared breakfast, his phone tucked between his shoulder and ear, as he caught up with his mother then returned a call from Harrison. Scarlett heard the pride in his voice, as he recounted his awards night to his mother, and the polite way he thanked Harrison for everything he’d done for him. She was so proud of him, she wanted to tell the whole world, but still, their future together was disturbingly vague.

After breakfast, she phoned the airline and wrangled two days off, instead of being on standby. While grateful for their understanding, she couldn’t help but wish her temporary break from real life could last forever. She and Dylan would both have to make decisions before too long, work out how they would find time to be together. Scarlett desperately hoped that there’d be a solution — she couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from him again for more than a couple of days at a time.

Dylan seemed to tune into her morose mood and suggested a walk along the beach to blow away their worries.

‘As long as you’re not going to take me fishing,’ she said. ‘And only if I can borrow a different coat, instead of wearing the pink fleece again.’

‘Ungrateful wench.’ He scratched his chin for a moment. ‘I tell you what, I just have to pop into town for a bit. Will you be okay?’

‘Umm, okay? Yes, I’ll be fine. You don’t have to keep checking on me, Dylan. I’m not going anywhere.’

He looked dubious. ‘Okay then, I’ll be right back.’

He returned before too long, back to his usual upbeat self and waving a carrier bag in her direction. ‘A present for you.’

‘For me? How lovely. It’s not an air stewardess nightdress, is it?’

‘Damn, rumbled again.’ He winked as he passed over the bag.

‘Dylan, you shouldn’t have.’ She took out a long cream woollen jacket, smoothing down the soft warm pile of the fabric. ‘It’s . . . wow, it’s amazing.’ She checked the label and pressed her palm to her chest. ‘Oh, my goodness, Dylan!’

‘The assistant from one of those boutique shops in the high street suggested it — it’s from the new spring season, apparently. You know my sense of fashion, you’d have ended up in frayed denim, if it was left to me.’

‘I love it. Thank you so much.’ She reached up and kissed his cheek, before slipping on the coat and preening a bit. ‘It’ll go great with my boots. Come on, let’s go for that walk so I can show it off.’

They soon found themselves on the beach at the seafront, dodging children and watching dogs of various shades and sizes snuffle and weave their way in and out of legs and buggies.

‘I think I need a dog. What do you think?’ Dylan asked, as they strolled along.

‘How will you look after a dog when you go away so frequently?’

‘Not sure, yet, but I feel my house needs a dog, don’t you?’ Dylan stopped a tennis ball with his foot as it went to roll past them. As he picked it up, a black and white mongrel raced up to them and stood panting, wagging its tail, and Dylan threw the ball far into the sand, the dog racing after it. ‘Definitely need a dog,’ he repeated, as he stared towards where the dog skidded to a halt, sending a spray of sand over itself, returning the ball triumphantly to its owners.

‘A fluffy, white Maltese puppy,’ Scarlett said dreamily.

‘No way! A chocolate Lab is the smallest dog I’m prepared to accept.’

They discussed the merits of various dogs, Scarlett playing along, hoping it would show them a way to make a long-distance relationship work. In that moment, though, all she could envisage was inappropriately-timed, static-filled phone calls as they tried to catch up with each other, pretending to be happy, while Scarlett wondered, in every quiet moment, if he was about to confess to an indiscretion.

She really needed to stop thinking such things, but she couldn’t picture it any other way. She also fretted that Dylan might decide it was too restricting, being faithful to a woman he hardly ever saw.

‘When are you going on tour?’ she asked him. She might as well start planning for lonely times ahead, see if he’d thought through the effects the distance would have on their relationship.

‘End of the month. When do you go to Dubai?’

‘I have another three weeks in Liverpool. I’ve already handed in my notice.’

‘Right.’

‘Yeah.’ She couldn’t inject any enthusiasm into her voice.

They walked in silence, Scarlett’s spirits dipping. It wouldn’t work, she knew it. They’d never manage to see each other.

‘It’s a long way to Dubai, isn’t it?’ Dylan’s eyes were bleak, the usual full wattage of startling blue dimmed.

Scarlett’s lips twisted. ‘It’s not too far, in relation to, say, Cornwall, or the moon.’ She parroted Dylan’s earlier comment about travel and tried out a smile, but it was a poor attempt. ‘Pushkin International is only, what . . . four hours or so away.’ But they both knew the distance was the easy part to master, it was the time factor with them both working that was going to be the problem.

Dylan hunched into his jacket, shoving his hands into his pockets. She pulled her coat tighter around her body, suddenly feeling cold and empty.

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