10th February

Just before four on Tuesday afternoon, there's a knock on the door while I'm buttoning up Lydia's coat. Nathan is taking her out while I tutor and I'm not nervous because I don't trust him, I'm just. . . bewildered about how willing he is to be here for us all the time.

He loves Lydia. I can tell, I can see how much she means to him and that's part of the reason I'm falling so in love with him. Because she deserves the kind of father he has the potential to be and while I won't ever refer to him as such, it's enough that he wants to be in her life.

Nathan comes from the hall and crosses the living room, winking at me as he goes. The things he makes me feel is wild and I desperately wish we could be more open.

Tonight I'm going to talk to Lydia about the fact that Josh and I have separated.

I'm not sure how long I'll wait before I talk to her about Nathan and I. It depends on how she takes the first piece of news I suppose.

Nathan swings the door open and a teenage boy slips inside, clutching his backpack to his shoulder, a big coat keeping him warm, it's speckled with snowfall. He's a tall kid, lightly tanned with bleach blonde hair, dark roots, done up in a bun on his head.

"How's it?" He tips his chin up in a quick nod. His accent is one I feel is familiar but I can't place it.

Nathan slaps him on the shoulder. "Gabrielle, this is Wiremu," he introduces, pronouncing Wiremu's name with a roll of the R. "Wiremu, Gabrielle."

"How's it, miss?" He extends his hand and I stand up, shaking it. Miss? I don't question him, but I do give Nathan a quick look. His amused smile offers no explanation.

"And this is Lydia," Nathan gestures to her, standing beside me watching the television.

"Oh far, she's cute as, man," Wiremu has the biggest smile I've ever seen. He drops his backpack beside the door and slips out of his coat. "Coach, you didn't tell me the tutor was fine."

Wiremu laughs and it's not just a chuckle, it's a loud, loud laugh, one that gets Lydia's attention for a brief moment. Nathan rolls his eyes and smacks him in the arm.

"Behave," he warns, getting his coat off the hook. "Come on, kid. We're going to see Jack and Toby. Wiremu, focus man. You want a spot next semester, those grades need to go up. Don't spend the whole time clowning off, got it?"

"Yes, coach."

Wiremu wanders over to the breakfast bar with his bag while I say goodbye to Lydia, lifting her hood onto her head. After giving her a kiss and a hug, she bolts out the door, excited for her afternoon.

I'd given her the option of leaving, she didn't have to if she didn't want to. But there was no hesitation when I asked.

Nathan lingers for a second, looking at me. We could kiss right now and it wouldn't matter. Wiremu is inconsequential in terms of our relationship. It feels so natural when I tip toe and press a chaste kiss on his lips.

"Have fun," I step back and see the dazed grin on his mouth.

He shakes it off, biting on his lip as he slips out of the door, beaming like a kid on Christmas. When I turn back to Wiremu, he's getting his books out of his bag and putting them on the breakfast bar.

As I cross over to him, he looks at me. "Coach doesn't tell us much. Never even said he has a mrs and kid."

"Oh," I slip onto the stool beside him, the metal squeaking when it moves under me. "Um, it's— he and I are complicated and Lydia's not his daughter."

Wiremu's gaze goes wide. "Does he know that, miss?"

I laugh, sliding his English text book toward me. "Yeah, he knows. I just moved in here a while ago, Nathan is my best friend's brother and he's helping us out. The kissing is. . . new."

Wiremu rests his head on his fist and wiggles his brows at me. "Best friend's brother huh? A classic."

I clear my throat, opening the hard cover text book, the spine creaks. "So, Australian?"

He tuts, his brows pulling tight in a playful scowl. "Miss, don't do me like that. I'm Aoteroa born and raised."

"That's New Zealand, right?"

He straightens up, smiling down his nose at me. "You know."

His sentences all sound like the ends have dropped off. It's unique and I like it. "What brought you over here?"

"Sister's a gymnast. Better options to get into the Olympics over here. I want to get into football while I'm here but I'm going back to the motherland as soon as I can. This ain't home."

There's a brief moment of sadness in his cheerful disposition, the edges of his bright brown eyes turning down, but it doesn't last long. I lean over and get a pen from the cup beside the microwave. "Are you doing okay here though?"

"Yeah, I'm all good, miss. Got some cool mates. I miss the whanau though, Nan the most."

I can't imagine being that far from home, the culture shock must be challenging too. I'm not surprised he wants to go back when he can.

Clicking the pen, I look down at the books and the work sheets. The concept of doing high school English again is surreal, it's like going back in time, back to when I would sit in this seat and help Dallas with her own homework.  "Uh, so, what do we need to work on?"

            Wiremu is a good student, he's patient, polite and he wants to learn. He's not bad at English, but he is struggling with the differences in our languages. Like most of the world, New Zealand follows the British English. U beside O, S instead of Z, British English keeps the spelling of words it's absorbed from other languages, mainly French and German.

American English spellings are based mostly on how the word sounds when it's spoken. We spend an hour going over the basics.

At five, I let Wiremu know we'll pick it up again next week, but I have faith he's a quick learner.

Nathan and Lydia come home while I'm cooking dinner. I'm getting nervous about the fact that I have to talk to her tonight, about Josh and I. Stirring the ingredients on the element, a little pair of arms wrap around my middle and squeeze.

"Guessed what, mommy. When I was at Jack and Toby's, I got to have an ice cream sandwich. It had cookies and ice cream in the middle."

I turn around and smooth her hair down, kissing her head. "That sounds delicious. You had a good time then?"

"Yep. What's for dinner?" Lydia leans around me, tip toeing to look at the pot on the element, her nose scrunches. "I don't like that."

"You haven't tried it."

"Yes!" She shouts.

"It's a new recipe with new flavours."

Nathan saunters into the kitchen, we share a smile as he heads to the fridge.

"I know I don't like that," Lydia continues, backing up with her hands raised, as if the food is about to hold her at gun point and force itself down her throat. "It looks gross!"

I sigh. "You give it a go and if you don't like it, you don't have to eat it."

She makes a big scoff of protest and turns on her heel, marching out of the kitchen. The sass sometimes, I'm not sure where she gets it from and I refuse to think it comes from me.

Nathan peers over his shoulder, popping the cap off his beer bottle as he walks toward me. The coast is clear enough that he gives me a quick kiss, the cap pinging around in the sink as he throws it past me.

"How was tutoring?" He asks, stepping back,  putting a distance I'm starting to detest.

"It went well. There was no clowning off and I think he'll pick it all up fast."

"Did he flirt?"

I laugh. "Of course not."

"Wouldn't put it past him, he's got all the lines. Kid is making his way through the entire freshman year. A couple of juniors too."

"Oh, so nothing has changed since I was in high school then," I turn around and check on the sauce for the hot pot, adding a bit of cumin and paprika, the sauce bubbles, aroma floating on steam.

Nathan leans his back on the bench top beside the oven, he smells so good, his t-shirt clings to his biceps. "I'm guessing my soon to be brother in law was the man whore of your time?"

Scoffing, I give him a side on glare. "Were you the man whore of yours?"

"Yeah, babe. I was."

He has no shame, winking at me. That's not news to me, Dallas used to tell me all about the friends that came in and out of her brother's bedroom. As we got older, it was more obvious that friends wasn't quite the right definition for Nathan's after hour guests.

"Drayton wasn't innocent but he wasn't as bad as he liked to pretend. Plus, once he met Dallas, it was all over. No, our man whore was his friend, Maxon. Total sleeze. Last I heard, he's still the same."

Nathan tips the bottle up to his lips, brows pinched in thought. I shamelessly watch his throat roll, swallowing. There are things that are so attractive about him and I can't even explain why. He lowers his bottle, moisture glistening on his lips. "I don't recall a Maddox."

"Dallas wasn't friends with him, she just tolerated a few of those jocks for the sake of her man. Most of them drove her insane."

"Yeah, true. You were about the only friend she ever brought home."

I grin up at him. "That's because I'm special and lovable."

"Yeah, it was real special when I had to deal with you hungover, lounging all over the sofa on a Sunday morning."

"Bite me."

"Can I?"

Giving him a gentle shove, we both laugh and I turn the faucet on to rinse my finger tips. "I hope you don't expect me to deal with that beer cap."

Nathan reaches into the sink and plucks it out. "No ma'am," he grins, leaning into give me a rough kiss, a fleeting swipe of his tongue against the seam of my lips makes me breathless.

He slaps me on the ass and saunters over to the bin to throw the cap away and I get on with dinner, head and heart spinning at how beautiful it feels to have these moments.

I add the meat to the pot of sauce, giving it a stir. I'm not an outstanding chef, but there were a few staple recipes mom passed onto me growing up that I've always been able to cook.

It was one of the few experiences we had together, that I loved. Eating the actual meals wasn't a bonding experience, not when it came to how forced I felt to finish an entire serving that'd be better off in front of a grown man. I survived, I suppose.

Nathan inhales the steam coming from the pot. "That smells good."

"It needs to go in the oven," I slip the mitts off the hook beside the window. "So, how was the afternoon?"

"It was casual. Lydia had heaps of fun. You should expect a request to color her hair soon. She wants to look like Holly."

"Aw, that's cute. Her hair will be hard to color though, it'll need to be bleached."

Nathan steps back while I open the oven door and slide the pot in, the warmth hitting me in the face. I haven't even closed the door when I feel his hand on my butt, giving it a squeeze, his palm slides down, slipping between my thighs and I giggle, hips shifting side to side to shake him off, even though I never want him to let go. I crave these moments, the ones where we can't keep our hands off each other.

"I'm making a hot chocolate," Lydia's voice is unexpected and I straighten up just as fast as Nathan's hand lets go of me.

The oven door slams closed and I spin around, Nathan beside me, we both fluster, looking at each other and then at the little girl scuffing her slippered feet through the kitchen, totally unaware of the less than PG behavior going on. We need to be more careful.

Nathan clears his throat, reaching up to get the mug out for Lydia while she gets the milk, all of us quiet. I'm doing my best not to stare at Nathan's broad shoulders in his fitted t-shirt, the veins crawling up his arms.

"Uh, Nathan will do that. Lydia, come with me," I nod at him when he looks back at me. Somehow, that's all it takes for him to understand that I need him to give us a minute.

Taking Lydia's hand, I lead her out of the kitchen. "We need to talk, bub."

I've been preparing for this conversation for so long now that I can't keep putting it off. All of the pep talks I've given myself, the gearing up, the nerves and tension are all coming to a head and it's now or never. It feels like word vomit. I just wish I knew how she was going to take it.

We go into Lydia's bedroom because it's become her safe space, news like this requires a safe space. She plants herself straight down in her corner, under the window beside her shelf of crafts and trinkets. I sit down in front of her.

"So," I start and struggle to find the right words. "Um, so, dad and I have decided to break up."

Her face doesn't change, she sits there staring at me as if I haven't said a damn word. Scratching my brow, I shift and start again. "We've decided to separate. We're not going to be a couple."

She tilts her head. "Is it because he's sick?"

"No," I scoot forward, snatching her hand in mine. "No, it has nothing to do with that. It's just that, we don't. . . love each other like we used to."

"Do you not love him because he's sick?"

I start to deflate. I can't blame her for jumping to those conclusions, given the sequence of events. Us leaving our home, Josh becoming 'sick', he and I 'breaking up'. She's looking at the facts right in front of her and if she needs me to shoulder the blame, if that makes it easier for her, I'll do it.

"It's your fault he's gone, isn't it," she leans back against the wall and swipes one of her stress balls off the shelf, pinching it between her fingers with a furrow in her brow. "I think it's your fault he won't come and see me."

I thought I was handling all of this well, telling her things that would make it easier to forgive Josh in the present. But perhaps I've made it all worse for the future. Tears start to blur my vision, but I sniff and keep it together, my voice tight.

"We don't love each other, Lydia. It wasn't just my choice to break up. Dad and I both agreed we don't want to be together but it has nothing to do with him being sick, I promise. Sometimes it just happens. People fall out of love."

She won't look at me. "Go away."

"Baby—"

"Get out," she shouts, throwing her ball at me. "It's all your fault that daddy isn't here."

Pain sticks me right in the heart, grief bleeding into resentment. All of the anger I've buried over the last few months, just so Josh wouldn't have to suffer or lose his relationship with our daughter if he ever decided to reappear.

All of the blame I've carried so Lydia wouldn't end up feeling rejected. I wouldn't change that, I never want Lydia to suffer and I'll never know how best to handle his disappearance.

But perhaps ripping the band aid off is best. Perhaps she needs to know he's gone and he's not coming back. At least she could start the grieving process and lean on me, instead of feeling like the hero in her life is being kept from her. Who else is going to give her that support if I'm the one she's blaming?

I stand up and kiss her on the head, slipping my phone out of my pocket as I leave. Nathan must see the hurt and rage on my face as I walk back into the living room with the phone to my ear. He caresses my elbow as I pass him and go for the door. Drayton answers as I'm grabbing my keys, coat and hat.

"What's up, Gabs?"

"I need an address," I tell him, sounding far angrier than I realized I was. "I need to know where Josh is living. Right now. I have a half hour drive to Denver. I need it by then."

"Fuck, what are you doing?"

"Just get me the address, Drayton. I don't ask for much."

"Look, if you're going to kill him, at least hire someone. Keep your hands clean."

"Shut up," I grumble, not in the mood for his shit right now. With the phone pressed between my face and shoulder, I slip into my coat and blow a strand of hair out of my face. "You going to help me or not?"

He sighs. "I'll text it through. He's not far from your old place."

"Thanks." I hang up before he can say something else and I'm practically trembling when Nathan comes up beside me.

"I have to go to Denver," I slide gloves onto my shaking hands, refusing to look at him. I'm scared that I'm going to back down or lose steam if I look at Nathan because all he makes me feel is mush and that's not going to get shit done right now.

"Can you stay here with Lydia?"

"No," he says and that's when I do look at him. "I'm coming with you."

"Nath—"

He tips my chin up. " You got this," he kisses me, his lips lingering. "I'm just going to make sure I have you afterwards."

To be continued. . .