Page 53 of How We Loved

“Actually no.”

Ben, who was sat next to me on the sofa, squeezed my fingers, giving me a gentle nod.

I swallowed hard, surprised by how much this actually meant to me. “I’ve never mentioned it to you, but I’ve been writing a diary the whole time I’ve been at university. Since I met Ben, really.”

Mum nodded and didn’t look overly surprised. “Yes, darling, your notebook you are always scribbling in.”

“Oh.” Well, so I guess it wasn’t so secret diary after all. “Well, a newspaper has reached out to me because they want to publish it as a weekly column, a kind of contemporary living for the millennial generation, I guess.”

Mum and Dad were nodding. The room suddenly got very hot.

“So I’ve signed a contract. I wanted to tell you, though, because obviously there is stuff about us in there, you know, year one…” I trailed off. “And year two…”

“Delilah,” my dad’s voice boomed, and I instantly became the seven-year-old who could never do anything right. “This is amazing.” He turned to Ben. “Ben, isn’t she amazing.” He got up and came over to me, patting me awkwardly on the shoulder, a bit like a Labrador, until I got up and gave him an unexpected hug.

“So you don’t mind then?” I asked.

“Mind? Of course not, you were always destined for great things. This is perfect for you.”

I stared at him open-mouthed. “Great things?” I repeated. He’d never said this to me before in my life.

“Amazing things. You are Delilah McCannon, you can do anything, and achieve anything you want.”

My eyes prickled at the back with sharp little tears. “Thanks, Dad.”

“And what else, what comes next? A novel maybe?”

“Uh, well, hold on.”

“Of course, how wonderful.” Mum picked Hope up again, I think she just liked an excuse to hold her. “Imagine that, our daughter the bestselling author.”

I glanced down at Ben, my emotions clearly on my face because he gave me a smug smile. A told you, know-it-all smile. “I didn’t carry that writing desk upstairs, chipping all our new paintwork for nothing.”

My heart swelled then. Double, tripled. For the first time in my life, I had nothing left to prove. Nothing to try and be. I swallowed hard, wild tidal waves washing over me.

“Thanks, I love you.” Love you isn’t an emotion the McCannons are known for uttering very often. “It is only a newspaper article, though. I’ve still got to look after Hope and try to finish my degree.”

Dad gave me a funny smile. “You’ve got nothing to prove, look at everything you’ve achieved. No one is going to judge you if you follow a new path.”

Hadn’t Ben said a similar thing? I thought he had, but sadly my baby brain is so extreme I can barely remember any of our conversations.

As if on cue, Ben stood up, his skin tingling a little pale. He slipped his hand into mine, and inexplicably my stomach twisted in knots. “As you know, I’ve been working on new material since February.”

We all nodded.

“I’ve also been in talks with the record label.”

Had he now? I narrowed my gaze. He squeezed my fingers again—never a good sign. “The thing is, Lilah. Since we met, it’s all been about me, about Soundbox, about America, about what happens next. But the truth is, I don’t think I want that life anymore. I’m not sure I have since we met, everything just got swept away and carried me with it, nearly losing you in the process.”

Not this again, I thought. “Ben…”

He held up his free hand. “No, wait. It’s not that I’m quitting. I just don’t want to be a global megastar. I want to write songs about you, and maybe sing them to small crowds every so often. I want to be home with you, watching my child grow up, and most importantly I want to be there for you, the way you’ve always been there for me. This is your turn to shine, Lilah. I’ve been heading this way for a long time; you being offered this opportunity is the catalyst I needed.”

“But Ben…”

“Wait. I’m going to look after Hope, give you a chance to explore this new path that’s been offered to you. And…” He grimaced a little. “I’ve made an offer on Baz’s shop.”

My mouth fell open. “What?”

“I’m buying Baz’s shop and taking over the music academy that was all your idea.”

"Shouldn’t we have discussed this?” I became very aware of the parentals staring between the two of us. “You can’t give up everything for me?” My words were whispered, not because of our audience, but because the enormity of the moment was crushing the life out of my chest.

“I should have done it the moment I realized loving you was more important than anything else."

I couldn’t argue with that. If I were being truthful with myself, now that I’ve had time to process it all, it feels right too, although that’s a hard thing to admit.

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay.” We grinned at one another. “So what are you going to write about next?” he asked.

“You,” I replied.

Can I write a book? Is this what I’ve been heading to all this time? It’s crazy. It feels crazy.

But then I’ve always been a little bit crazy, haven’t I?