20. Dylan
— ? —
Dylan
The flash of cameras is blinding, but I barely notice.
All my attention is fixed on the woman beside me.
My wife, resplendent in an emerald gown.
She looks divine. A goddess descended from Olympus to grace mere mortals with her presence.
She’s navigating the red carpet with the ease of someone born for this, fielding questions from journalists, posing for photographers, commanding every ounce of attention in the vicinity.
And I’m right beside her, holding her clutch purse like it’s my most important job in the world.
Because it is.
“Dylan! Dylan, over here!”
I turn toward the voice, offering a practiced smile for the cameras, but my eyes drift back to Selene almost immediately. I can’t help it. Watching her work a room is mesmerizing. A master painter at her canvas.
“Mr. Riego, how does it feel to be attending as a plus-one instead of the main attraction?”
The question comes from a journalist near the press line, and I can hear the slight edge of mockery beneath the professional tone. A year ago, that might have stung my ego. Now, I just laugh.
“It feels exactly right.” I keep my voice warm, genuine. “My wife is the star tonight. I’m just here to carry her things and look supportive.”
Selene catches my eye at that, her lips curving into a smile that makes my chest tight.
“He’s very good at both,” she tells the journalist. “The support and the purse-holding.”
“It’s my greatest talent.” I hold up her clutch demonstratively. “I’ve been practicing.”
The press eats it up. The headlines are already forming. Dylan Riego Plays Devoted Husband at Wife’s Premiere. I don’t mind at all. Let them write whatever they want. As long as Selene knows the truth, nothing else matters.
We work our way through the rest of the carpet, and I keep my hand at the small of her back, a constant point of contact that grounds us both. When we finally escape into the venue, the relative quiet is a relief.
“You handled that beautifully.” I lean down to murmur in her ear. “Very diplomatic response to the purse-holding question.”
“I considered saying something about how you’re also good at other things, but I decided that was too suggestive for a family-friendly event.”
“How thoughtful of you.”
“I’m a very considerate person.” She plucks her clutch from my hands and tucks it under her arm. “Now, let’s go find our seats before someone else tries to interview us.”
***
Selene
The ceremony passes in a blur of awards and speeches and standing ovations.
I win the Best Director for my latest project, which still feels surreal.
Dylan is on his feet before my name finishes echoing through the auditorium, clapping with an enthusiasm that borders on aggressive.
When I return to our table, he pulls me into a hug that probably qualifies as inappropriate for the setting.
“I’m so proud of you.” He says it directly into my ear, his voice fierce. “So incredibly, ridiculously proud.”
“You say that every time I win something.”
“And I’ll say it every time after that.” He pulls back to look at me, and the love in his eyes makes my throat tight. “Get used to it, wife. I plan to be aggressively supportive for the rest of our lives.”
The rest of the evening unfolds smoothly. We mingle with industry professionals, discuss upcoming projects, and navigate the complex social dynamics of Hollywood with the ease of two people who’ve been doing this for decades. But throughout it all, I’m hyperaware of the secret I’m carrying.
The secret tucked into my clutch.
A secret I’ve been holding for two weeks, waiting for the perfect moment.
Tonight feels perfect.
When the formal program ends and the crowd begins to disperse toward various after-parties, I catch Dylan’s hand and tug him away from the main flow of traffic.
“Where are we going?” He follows without resistance, which is one of the many things I love about the new him. He trusts me implicitly, doesn’t question, just comes along for whatever adventure I’m planning.
“Somewhere quiet. I have something to show you.”
His eyebrows lift with interest, but he doesn’t press for details. He just lets me lead him through the venue, past the crowded ballrooms and busy corridors, until we emerge onto a secluded veranda that overlooks the city lights.
The night air is cool against my heated skin, and the stars are brilliant overhead, undimmed by the light pollution that usually plagues LA. It’s as if the universe knew I needed this moment to be special and arranged the perfect backdrop.
“This is beautiful.” Dylan moves to stand beside me at the railing, his shoulder brushing mine. “How did you know this was here?”
“I scouted it earlier.” I lean into his warmth. “I wanted to find somewhere private for us.”
“Private sounds promising.” His voice drops into that low register that always makes my pulse flutter. “What did you have in mind?”
“Close your eyes.”
He complies immediately, a smile playing at his lips. “Should I be nervous?”
“Definitely not.” I reach into my clutch and pull out the folded piece of paper I’ve been carrying for days. “Hold out your hand.”
He extends his palm, and I place the paper carefully in it.
“Okay.” My voice comes out shakier than intended. “You can open them now.”
***
Dylan
I open my eyes to find a folded piece of paper in my hand.
Selene is watching me with an expression I can’t quite read. Nervous. Excited. Her eyes brimming with tears. Her hands are clasped in front of her, and she’s practically vibrating with anticipation.
“What is this?”
“Open it.”
I unfold the paper slowly, and the image that greets me makes my brain stutter to a halt.
It’s an ultrasound picture.
Black and white, grainy, the kind of medical imaging I’ve seen in movies and TV shows but never in real life, never in my own trembling hands. There’s a small bean-shaped form in the center, barely distinguishable, but unmistakably there.
Unmistakably alive.
“I finished my lead role last month.” Selene’s voice washes over me, soft and tremulous. “Everything has been going smoothly for both of us. We have that upcoming film together, but I think…” She pauses, swallowing hard. “I think the Heavens have blessed us this time.”
My hand is shaking so badly I’m afraid I’ll drop the picture.
“Yours…?” The word comes out cracked, barely a whisper. “This is… you’re…?”
She flashes me the most radiant, tear-filled smile I’ve ever seen and cups my face in her hands.
“Ours.”
The word crashes through me.
Ours.
A baby. Our baby. A tiny human that we made together, growing inside the woman I love, proof that our story didn’t end with divorce papers and empty mansions.
Our story is just beginning.
The tears come before I can stop them, spilling down my cheeks in a way that would be embarrassing if I had any capacity left for embarrassment.
But I don’t. All I have is this overwhelming surge of joy and terror and love and gratitude, crashing through me in waves so powerful that my knees threaten to buckle.
“Selene.” Her name becomes a prayer on my lips. “Baby. Are you serious? You’re pregnant?”
“About eight weeks, according to the doctor.” She’s crying too, her mascara probably ruined, and she’s never looked more beautiful. “I wanted to wait until I was sure, until I’d had the first scan and knew everything was okay. And then I wanted to find the perfect moment to tell you.”
“This is…” I can’t find words. There are no words big enough for what I’m feeling. “We’re going to be parents?”
“We’re going to be parents.”
I pull her into my arms, crushing her against my chest, burying my face in her hair. I’m laughing and crying at the same time, probably making a spectacle of myself on this beautiful veranda under the stars, and I couldn’t care less.
“I love you.” The words pour out of me, desperate and true. “I love you so much. I love you, and I love this baby, and I love our life, and I can’t believe I almost threw all of this away-”
“Hey.” She pulls back to look at me, her hands still framing my face. “We don’t live in the past anymore, remember? We’re here now. Together. Building something new.”
“Something new.” I rest my forehead against hers, my hand drifting down to splay across her stomach. “Someone new.”
“Someone who’s going to have the most devoted, adoring, probably slightly overbearing father in the entire world.”
“I’m going to be so overbearing.” I’m grinning through my tears. “I’m going to be the dad who cries at every school play and embarrasses them in front of their friends and gives their prom date a thorough background check.”
“At least you’re self-aware about it.”
“I’m very self-aware.” I press a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, then her lips. “And I’m going to be the best father I can possibly be. I’m going to give this kid everything I didn’t have growing up. Love and attention and presence. I’m going to be there for every moment.”
“I know you will.” Her voice is soft with certainty. “That’s why I’m not scared.”
“You’re not scared?”
“I’m terrified, actually.” She laughs wetly. “Terrified and excited and overwhelmed and about a dozen other emotions I can’t identify. But I’m not scared that you’ll let us down. You’ve proven yourself, Dylan. Over and over. You’re not the man you used to be.”
The words land somewhere deep in my chest, filling spaces I didn’t know were still empty.
“Neither are you.” I stroke my thumb over her cheekbone. “The woman I’m looking at right now. The director, an actress, my wife, a soon-to-be mother. She’s everything I always knew you could be. Everything you might have been years ago if I hadn’t gotten in the way.”
“You didn’t get in the way. We got lost together.” She turns her face to kiss my palm. “But we found our way back.”
“We did.” I pull her close again, holding her against me under the stars. “And we’re going to keep finding our way forward. Together. All three of us.”
Her hand comes up to rest over mine on her stomach, and we stand there in silence, marveling at the miracle we’ve created.
Later, much later, I take her home.