10th March

Lydia, Nathan and I came back from California on Sunday, one day after Nathan arrived and we kissed and made up. I'm not proud of the way I upped and disappeared from him, but I know how I feel now. The space made me certain that I don't want to be without him.

Not that I couldn't survive. I could, I know how to be a single mom. I just don't have to and I can't remember the last time I felt this happy.

The happiness is what's encouraging me to put one foot in front of the other as I walk up to momma's front door, ready to have a conversation with her that could either go really well, or horribly bad.

I don't bother knocking, I never have and I'm not going to start now, even though I've adopted an almost professional disposition. I've locked my emotions down, the years of her snuffing out my flame, the resentment I feel over how she's belittled my choices and tried to control the narrative in my life.

If I'm going to get through to her, I have to be calm and collected. Letting those emotions take the lead is only going to end up in a screaming fit.

Momma is in the kitchen cooking dinner when I walk inside, a podcast is blaring on her portable speaker. It sounds like an episode about gut health and fiber. She's not facing me, so I tap pause on her phone and the room descends into silence, apart from the sizzling in her pan. She turns to look at me.

"Oh," she blows out a light laugh. "You alright sweetheart? What's going on?"

She watches me over her shoulder, still stirring the vegetables and eggs in her pan.

"I want to talk," I force the words out. It feels strange and unnatural, almost embarrassing to set up a conversation like that. I've never asked my mom to 'talk'.

Whatever serious issues need to be discussed between us, usually come out in a heated, impulsive argument. I've never had the confidence to approach her and tell her in a rational way, that she's hurt me.

Mom stares, her confusion obvious. Slowly, her expression morphs into something hard and frustrated.

"You're pregnant?"

I huff out a sigh of disbelief and lean back against the counter. "No and you would be the last person I'd come to about that."

Finally, she sets her wooden spatula down and adjusts the heat on the element, all the while staring at me. "I would be the last person you come to?"

"Yeah, your less than understanding attitude sort of makes it impossible to confide in you. Which is part of what I want to talk to you about."

She doesn't interrupt me, but I can see from the look on her face that she's already on the defense. Her scowl is dismissing whatever's going to come out of my mouth next and I debate whether it's even worth it.

My confidence waivers but I know if we have any chance of getting to a better place, this needs to happen.

If she doesn't listen, at least I'll know I've done what I can.

"Your constant," I pause, searching for a word that won't grate her so much, but I have no such luck. "Judgement of my life and the snippy little comments and disapproval you give me, is getting old. It's been old. It was old when it started but because I was barely a teenager, I didn't have the backbone to be honest. I'm an adult now. It needs to stop."

Mom's jaw flutters. "Gabrielle, you thought you were grown from the moment you could walk. You might have thought it was unfair, but it's literally a parent's job to teach their children and guide them. The older you got, the more attitude you got, you wanted to run around all over town with Dallas, who by the way, didn't have a parent minding her-"

"She had Nathan!"

"He was a teenager and was more worried about himself, leaving that girl to get up to no good and drag you along with her. So no, I won't apologize for keeping a tight leash. Not that it seemed to help. You still managed to get pregnant."

I tip my head back and stare at the ceiling, pursing my lips while I search for strength because this is going just how I thought it would.

"I thought you'd understand even more now that you have a daughter of your own," mom says and I lower my head to look at her again, she's folded her arms across her chest. "How would you deal with her befriending some girl that had no supervision and was allowed to get up to God knows what?"

"I'd talk to her, mom," I put a little more bite in my tone because I don't like the challenge in her voice. "I would talk to her and make sure she understands the dangers that exist out there. I would make sure she knows she can trust me so if she ever felt unsafe, she could call me. I would talk to her about birth control and the importance of her future. But I'd also understand that teenagers are curious about the world and they will make mistakes and they will live and learn and when she stumbles, I will help her back up again."

Mom slowly shakes her head, staring at me as if she's appalled at what she's witnessing, as if she can't fathom that I won't do things like her. "We're all perfect parents until the time comes to actually be one, Gabrielle."

"I'm not perfect," I say, working to control the urge to shout, I swore I wouldn't go there. "I'm not. I just know what pushed me to hide things from you and I want to do it differently."

Some parents will never understand the urge to break generational trauma and the cycles our families have been stuck in forever. I can't tell if she's too proud to admit that she was wrong and risk having to face the fact that she can't go back and do things differently, or if she just thinks she's right.

I admit, it must be a hard pill to swallow, knowing you made so many mistakes with no chance of a do over. She twirls the end of her braids around her finger, staring at them, a frown marring her otherwise flawless face. Mom has aged so well. I should tell her nice things like that more often.

"Mom," I sigh after we stand in silence for a while. "I'm not telling you all of this to make you feel bad or attempt to change the past. I just needed to remind you that I'm an adult now. You're still doing it. You're still giving me attitude over choices that I make as an adult."

"Sometimes people can offer perspectives to you and it comes from a place of wanting to help, Gabrielle. Not judge. You're still my daughter even as an adult, I still want the best for you."

She genuinely sounds sincere which makes me soften a little bit. I understand the feeling of wanting the best for your child. "I get that mom, but there's offering a different perspective and then there's guilt tripping and nasty looks and put downs. If you want to offer me advice, learn how to word it. Because it's not getting through, it's just making me resent you."

She flinches and lowers her gaze.

I'm not sure how much more communication I'm going to get from her today. This might be enough for her to think on. I slip my hands into my pockets and wrap them around the keys. "You look really beautiful, mom. You always do."

Nathan and I check on Lydia, sleeping in her bedroom later that night. The fairy lights are casting a soft glow on her serene face. Nathan takes my hand and we walk down the corridor, back to our bedroom. Even though we'd moved into the same bedroom, Lydia didn't want to take my old one, which was bigger. She preferred the little garden we'd made for her.

Perhaps it wouldn't matter soon. Nathan and I were having serious conversations about moving to California. It had started on the flight when I asked if he really meant it when he said he'd follow me there.

Neither of us could see why we shouldn't. Sure, we both had things that tied us to Castle Rock. Nathan's job and my mom. But I could live a distance from my mom. We didn't have the sort of relationship where I needed to see her all the time. As sad as that was to admit, I would never let her hold me back from exploring new opportunities. And Nathan could get a new job. He would miss his friends but he assured me they would understand that family comes first.

The three of us were a family. He, Lydia and I. The thought made me breathless.

California could be a new beginning and even if it doesn't work out, at least I would've tried something for myself. Lydia was thrilled at the thought of being close to her aunt and uncle and not all that worried about being far from her grandmother. Which again, was sad. But that was the relationship my mom had created.

I put my phone down on the dresser, which the television and a few candles were sitting on top of. It was obvious the room was now more feminine than before. A throw draped across the end of the bed, throw pillows, some plants, book shelves, art on the walls. I looked around, pleased at the result.

Nathan sits on the end of the bed and rests his elbows on his knees, watching me. "All moved in."

"I was moved in before."

"Yeah, but this is different, more official. I like knowing that this is our bedroom."

I couldn't stop the smile blooming even if I wanted to. "Aren't you a cutie."

His face fell serious.

"Oh, don't be too macho to be called cute."

He stands up and saunters toward me and I take a moment to admire his chest and the swell of his biceps. He stops and slides his hands onto my waist, staring down at me with a grin so sensual it makes my legs weak.

"Baby," he mumbles. "If you keep calling me cute, I am going to fuck a much more fitting compliment out of you. Got it?"

"Is that a promise?"

His laugh is low and aroused as he leans into my throat and kisses it. My entire frame shivers but I put my hands to his chest and give him a light push backward.

"I have a surprise for you."

Nathan raises an eyebrow, intrigue in his expression as his hands coast up and down the small of my back. I tiptoe and give him a chaste kiss before I back away from him.

"I'll be right back."

In the bathroom, I dig out the reusable shopping bag I'd shoved to the back of the cabinet. Inside is the Bronco's jersey I found at a store in the airport. It cost me a small fortune but I figured Nathan deserved a cute little surprise. I thought back to our date we'd had at the night market, when he told me he'd love it if I wore one of these and nothing else. Such a simple man.

My grin grew as I undressed. I love him so much.

I slip the garment over my naked body and throw my clothes in the washing hamper. It's almost full and I take a mental note of the fact that I'm going to have to do at least two loads tomorrow. I was almost tempted to go and put a load on now, but quickly shove that thought aside for more important things.

Nathan is sitting on the edge of the bed again when I peep inside the bedroom door. He's on his phone, the device looks small in his large hand. His eyes snap up when he hears me and then I walk inside, letting him get the full picture and I watch as eyes glaze over with desire and his lips part. His focus lingers on my bare legs and the low neckline, exposing my cleavage. That wasn't intentional but the jersey was oversized so it didn't sit the way it should.

"You are the sexiest woman I have ever seen in my life," he stands up and abandons his phone. "You're the dream girl. The girl hopeless men write songs about. The main character. The one I can not believe I get to call mine."

There he goes again, being poetic and telling me what's on his mind. He never keeps his feelings from me. It's as if he says exactly what he's thinking all the time and I appreciate it so much. There's no other way to know what someone is feeling unless they say it and he never hesitates to be honest.

He stops in front of me and drags his hand up between my thighs, finding my heat bare. His tongue darts out as he licks his lip and glides his finger along my clit. I shudder and lean back against the door.

"Nothing on underneath," he grins and lowers to his knees. "Leg over my shoulder, baby."

I do what he tells me to because I love it when he takes the lead. With the back of my knee resting on his shoulder, his hands glide up and onto my ass, his fingertips pinching hard. He comes in close, his tongue laps out at my clit and I convulse, thudding against the door. Nathan isn't gentle or slow for long. He devours me, licking and sucking, dragging his tongue up and down.

The back of my head hits the door and I hold onto Nathan's hair, pulling it, trying to get him closer while I also try to push him away. He starts to lower himself onto the floor, going backward and guiding me with him until he's on his back and I'm sitting on his face.

This is by far one of his favorite positions.

I use the edge of the bed to hold my balance so that my entire weight isn't on him, not that he seems to care. I think he'd happily suffocate underneath me. I can feel the build, the nerves pulsating through me, igniting a sensation that can't be put into words. I do my best to muffle my moans. Nathan's hands move from my ass, up the front of my stomach and onto my breasts, further sending my entire body into a state of live wire currents. My legs start to tremble as his fingers toy with my nipples, pinching, palming, squeezing.

My fists squeeze the comforter and I bite down my jaw, breathing hard and fast until the white hot waves crash into me and the release shoots through me like a starburst, pleasure firing off in all directions. I pant, coming down from the high and find Nathan staring up at me from between my legs.

"That was delicious, thanks babe."

I giggle, I can't help it. He makes me delirious. I swing a leg over his frame and sit on the floor, feeling sticky between the legs. Nathan sits up, drawing one knee up to his chest. He drapes his arm across it and smiles with wet and glistening lips.

"You need to clean your face," I tell him, still a little breathless.

He shakes his head. "Nope, I like having your taste all over my face."

I screw up my face, pretending to be grossed out. In truth, I love how content he is right now.

"I had a thought," Nathan says, his gaze roaming me, as if he's not done ravaging. "We should host a dinner."

"Host a dinner?"

"Yeah," he licks his lips and smacks them with a big smile. "Damn, that tastes good. Yeah, uh host a dinner and we can invite our friends and their kids. I have been to a thousand of their dinners but I've never hosted one. I have a family now, I think it'd be nice to host a dinner, together."

I could cry.

"We should do that," I agree, swallowing the emotion balling itself in my throat. "We don't have a table though."

Nathan's brows fall into a pinch. "We don't."

"We don't even really have room for one."

Nathan thinks, his eyes drifting without settling, until he looks at my legs and then I can practically see the thoughts flying out of his head. "You look so fucking good, Gabrielle."

"Focus, my love. A dining table."

"Fuck the dining table," he quickly shifts, coming over to me and pushing me onto my back. He crawls over my body and I squeal when he starts licking my throat, his face smells like my juices and I don't know how to feel about it.

"Nathan," I wrap my legs around his waist. "We should-"

"I will get a dining table and I will make it fit," he assures me, his lips still working on my throat. "We will host a dinner and it will be fucking fantastic."

"That sounds great."

"Mhmm, now shut up and let me do unspeakable things to you."

"Yes, sir."

He groans into my ear and drops his hips, grinding into me.

"I'm going to fuck you now."

"Yes, sir."

An almost growl rips through him as he reaches into his sweat pants, pulls himself out, lines up and pushes into me without even taking his pants off. He immediately starts slamming into me, hard, fast and rough while he bites and sucks on my neck.

It's loud, the sound of our flesh slapping together, both of our breathless gasping. It's animalistic and desperate. As much as I love gentle sex, getting feral unleashes something within me that is so senseless and primal, I lose my damn mind.

We've ended up scooting so far back my head is about to hit the wall. But Nathan puts his hand on the top of my head to stop it from smacking into the wall over and over again.

"Fuck, fuck," he hisses and then he shudders as he cums and I watch in awe at the beautiful man above me, coming undone because of me.

His smile is sleepy as he leans in and kisses me. "I love you, beautiful, beautiful woman."

"I love you too."