Because what kind of father would he be if simply thinking about the future led him to panic?
Luke grabbed a white pebble from the ground and rubbed it between his thumb and finger. It was smooth, perfect, and, hopefully, lucky.
Let her be okay with this.
Willow stood suddenly, pressed her hand to her stomach, then grinned before carefully stepping over the uneven rocks to get to him.
“I just felt Cletus.” She pressed her hand to her stomach again. “He’s moving, Luke. I can’t feel it outside, but I can feel it inside and it’s the weirdest yet most amazing thing.” Laughter laced her words, and her smile reached her eyes.
“You did?” Luke placed his hand over hers, even though she’d told him she couldn’t feel it outside. Yet. He’d been reading a book about when he’d be able to, and knew it would be a while before he could share the experience with her.
“Yeah. I can’t tell you what it was. Hand? Foot, maybe. Possibly hiccups because I know you can supposedly feel that at eighteen weeks.”
He gently tugged her down next to him. “He’s letting us know he’s there.”
“Which is a good thing, right?”
Luke faced her, took in the way wisps of her messy bun fluttered in the wind, the way her eyes shone brighter than they had in days, and the way her lips curved in a smile.
The sunshine and lazy days had done wonders for both of them.
“It’s a very good thing.”
She looped her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder as they listened to the lapping of waves in the marina. Sun warmed their skin, soaking in all the vitamin D they didn’t get in the grey of Manchester.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asked, tossing the pebble into the water with his free hand.
“Of course.”
Luke focused on the gentle waves. “I wasn’t sick last night. I had a panic attack.”
“Oh, Luke,” she said, placing her hand on his chest. “Why? Are you okay?”
He was glad he wore sunglasses, thankful for the thin piece of tinted material giving him the courage to continue. Luke sucked in a deep breath. Then, another. “Can I just ramble? Because if I think about it too hard, I might have another.”
Willow rearranged herself on their rock so she faced him, shifting her hand to his leg. “Say whatever you need to say.”
“They started a few weeks ago. I don’t say this so you think it’s your fault. I think part of it is stopping using drugs. Anxiety can be a side effect of coming off coke. I didn’t think I was an addict, but I think my body is telling me different. Plus, there’s shit I need to deal with that is connected to what’s going on here. It doesn’t mean this is a bad thing, it just means I get stressed. Yeah, panicked. I think that’s the best way to describe it.”
“I’m sorry, Luke. I didn’t mean for this to cause you panic attacks. They’re no fun.”
He focused on the way she stroked his leg, a slow and steady back-and-forth that kept his pulse even.
“You didn’t cause it. Alex said something the other day when it happened in front of the band. He said I should speak to someone. And I’m starting to think I should too. I want to be happy with you, Willow. You and our son. And want it to be more than a contract. But I realise I’ve got defences up, and when I try to talk about taking them down, I panic. And it’s not just you. It’s every facet of my life.”
“Can you expand on what you mean without . . .?”
Her eyes never left his and finding the confidence from her touch and kisses, he lifted his sunglasses to the top of his head and looked at her. “Without panicking?”
“Yes.”
Luke sat up, and lifted her hand to his lips, kissing the back of her hand softly. “The first time, the band staged an intervention of sorts, to get me to be honest about shit. And Jase asked me if I was fine with a gorgeous woman asking me to pretend to be in love with her so she could save her career, then fuck off back to America and take my kid with her?”
“Luke, no matter what happens to us, you’ll never be out of our lives if you don’t want to be.”
He leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. “I know, but I panicked, and I think I misread what it was. And then, it happened again when I was telling them about the ultrasound and what it meant, and I wanted to see a vision of the three of us in the future, happy somewhere, and I couldn’t. Like, I could see you and a little boy on a beach in Malibu, and I could see me here. But not together. Fuck.”
He breathed deeply, and Willow rummaged around in her tote bag. “Here,” she said, thrusting the bottle of water into his hand. “Drink this and just breathe for a few minutes.”
It felt like that was what everybody wanted him to do. Just breathe while iron bars were squeezing his chest. Willow placed her hand on his back, circling softly. He inhaled and exhaled in time to each circle.
“Then, last night,” he began.
“You don’t need to tell me just now.”
“No, I need to get it out, flower. You asked how often do you look back, specifically at something that was tough that you survived, and think how good it was. How much it taught you? How much better you know yourself now? And I feel like all that happened . . . I never had time to process any of it. I just had to get on with it. So, I think I shut down a little. Hell, a lot.”
Willow took his hand this time and kissed it before holding it in her lap. “I think talking to someone is a great idea. You need to have a safe space to talk about it, with someone who can navigate questions while recognising what triggers you.”
Luke huffed. “You said a whole bunch of words there, sweetheart, that don’t sound a lot like me.”
“Like what?”
“Safe spaces and triggers. Such snowflake words.”
“They are important words.” Willow smiled at him softly. “You’ll still be my alpha rock star hero.”
Would he?
“Are you sure? This doesn’t feel very much like the strong kind of presence my dad was. A man’s man. It feels weak.”
“Weak? There is nothing weak about admitting you are only human, Luke. And I bet your dad had his moments too. When he felt like the world was too much. We all do. What you’re doing, confronting what is happening instead of continuing those behaviours, is brave.”
The sincerity and force in her tone caused his words to catch in his throat. Suddenly, he wanted to put his sunglasses back on, like a physical shield. “It all feels like a lot of work, but the idea you won’t be around at the end of it terrifies me.”
“I don’t have a crystal ball. I don’t think any of us know what the future holds. But I’m here. With you. I’ll hold your hand, hold you up, and help you through this. I mean, isn’t that the point of relationships? To be there in sickness and health. To see each other through the rough and smooth.”
“Our relationship has been a contract one, so far.”
Willow stroked his hair back off his forehead. “So is marriage when you think about it. Prenups, licenses, marriage certificates. Perhaps our contract looked a little different to other people’s at the start. But it’s ours. And it’s working.”