11th January

We drop Lydia off at momma's without much of an explanation for either of them, but when I tell mom that this is about Josh, she doesn't ask more questions.

Nathan drives and for the most part, it's quiet, tense. I thought the anger would wear off in the time it takes to get to Denver, but the more I think about Lydia and her pain, the worse it gets.

It's dark when the car pulls up outside of a small townhouse in Rino Denver. A steep set of concrete steps lead up to the front door and I stare at the worn blue paint and brass numbers as I unbuckle and reach for the door handle. Streetlights illuminate the footpath and cast shadows through the tree branches.

Nathan rests his hand on my thigh. "Let me know if you need me."

Leaning over, I kiss him, grateful he's here. For a moment, I take him in, drink in the comfort he provides, the promises and support. I could tell him I love him right now, the words are sitting right there, on the tip of my tongue. But now isn't the right time because when I do tell him, I want us to have the time to bask in it afterward.

There's a sharp knock on the window and I twist around in my seat to find Josh standing outside, looking at us with utter confusion.

"Gabby?" He looks past me at Nathan and then he peers into the back seat before gracing me with his attention again. "What the hell is going on? Where's Lydia?"

I'm swinging open the door, almost knocking him over with it, before I can even think about what I want to tell him. No, not just what I want to tell him, what I want to scream at him. I'm tempted to break his fucking nose.

He rears up on the pavement and I'm vaguely aware of Nathan getting out of the car behind me. But when I take a quick look back, I notice he's opting to lean on the car with his hands in his pockets. He's here, but he's letting me handle this.

Just the threat that he provides is enough.

When I look at Josh again, his brows are furrowed at Nathan. "Is that—"

"Your time is up, asshole," I shout, letting whatever comes out of my mouth take the lead. "You wanted to live some fucking bachelor lifestyle, fine, that's fine. But I have a little girl at home who misses her dad, and I'm not taking the heat for it any more."

Josh has the decency to flinch with guilt when I mention our daughter. It's not enough though. Nothing will be enough until he's back in her life.

"Look, Gabs," he slips his gloved hand into his pocket and that's when I notice the clothes he's wearing. Designer, all of it. The slacks, his big coat, even his beanie has Tom Ford across the front of it. Good to see what he's doing with the cash he saves on child support. "I know what I did was fucked up."

I scoff, looking at the pavement for a moment of composure. It doesn't help. When I meet his pathetic stare again, I start to laugh. "Fucked up? Fucked up? Re evaluate the meaning of fucked up, Josh. Abandoning your daughter is a conscious decision. Not a whoops. You are a fuck up. But you don't get to make it sound like some sort of accident."

He swallows, shifting his weight on his feet. "I wasn't happy. Isn't it better to be honest and make changes. Did you want me to be miserable?"

For a moment, I'm so stunned, I can't even respond and then I'm screaming at him. "Leaving me, I could've handled. You walked out on our daughter. Lydia. Do you have any idea how hurt she's been? You didn't have to leave her too."

He drops his cowardice stare and then looks at the house, gesturing to the door without raising his head. "Should we take this inside."

"No, bitch," I shout, getting in his face. "You don't want the neighborhood to know what a dead beat you are, don't be a deadbeat. I'm not interested in seeing what your new slut pad looks like."

He looks at me, his jaw tight. I can turn into a vicious bitch when I'm pissed off. "I'm not a deadbeat."

"The definition of it."

"I'm not a deadbeat, I tried, Gabs. I don't want to be a dad. I don't want the domestic shit."

I shove him in the chest. "You decide that when it's still in the womb, Josh. Not when she's fucking five and you've developed a relationship with her. You soulless shit."

Just because it felt so good, I give him another shove in the chest, I know I shouldn't put hands on him but I'm so wound up with rage and the weight of it is clawing itself into the tips of my fingers, begging for the satisfaction of his pain, the same pain he's caused our girl. Worse.

"Stop shoving me," he bites, gripping my bicep tight.

His hand is on me for less than a second and then Nathan is there, his elbow connecting with Josh's nose so fast I barely see it. The only reason I know it happened is because Josh gasps, clutching his nose while blood drips between his fingers.

Nathan stands defensively in front of me and I'm not surprised he took the chance to hit him. Not when he knows how badly he's hurt Lydia.

"What the fuck is this," Josh waves between us, sounding breathless as he uses his scarf to wipe at his hands and face. "You can get physical but I put a hand—"

"Yeah," Nathan interrupts, his voice dangerous. "You put a hand on her, I'll fucking remove it."

Josh glares through watered eyes, but he doesn't argue. Part of me wants to apologize, because I started that, I shouldn't have acted with aggression. Nathan would step in regardless of what I'd done first and I guess that might've had something to do with why I felt brave enough to push him in the first place.

A couple of windows from the nearby house have people peeping through the curtains, watching the scene unfold. I'm not sure what I came here hoping to achieve. Perhaps I thought if I could talk some sense into him, he'd want to change his mind, for Lydia at the least. But if he didn't come to his senses on his own, I'm not sure why I thought I could make a difference.

I start to lose steam, hurt taking over while Nathan caresses my lower back, his chest to my shoulder.

"Josh," I blink up at the full leaves of the tree hanging over the sidewalk. Tears are starting to well now and I hate it. "It isn't fair. It's not fair."

He sniffs and folds the end of his scarf over, still wiping the blood from his nose and wincing. "I feel bad, I do. I just. . . I can't. . .do it. I don't want the picket fence and shit. We were just kids when we got pregnant, Gabs. I went from living with parents to being a parent. I never had an ounce of freedom and I felt resentful."

Now, the tears do start falling. "And if it was me?" I sob, taking a deep breath to steady my voice. "If I was the one who decided I missed the freedom that I never had and I walked. Then what would that make me? Mom's can't do that, Josh. We can't just walk because mom's who walk, are the fucking worst. But when it's the dad, we all just nod and say, yeah, that happens."

"You wanted to walk?"

"Not even for a second," I snap. "I love being a mom. I miss that little girl, right now. And it's been less than an hour since I last saw her," I wipe my face with the back of my hand. "I don't get how you don't have a gaping hole in your heart for her. Fucking insane."

He shrugs. "I don't think I ever connected to her in the same way. I mean, I never got the chance. You didn't let me do a damn thing with her."

My sobs turn into a spluttered laughter. "Didn't let you? You didn't lift a fucking finger, Josh. You were incompetent all the time. I couldn't have a shower because you had a melt down if she cried. You didn't take her off my hands to give me five minutes of rest. You didn't like it when she spit her food out so you didn't feed her. You didn't change her diapers because I told you, you did it wrong one fucking time. You were incompetent and you didn't want to be better."

He winces at the mess on his scarf, shaking his head. The lower half of his face is smeared with red.

"I have defended your disappearance to her, I've given her reasons to forgive you, I've made it easier for her to swallow but I'm done. If you're not coming back into her life now, you never are again and you can call and tell her that."

He's silent, nothing but pathetic shame and conflict in his expression. There's no way he'll call and tell her he's gone for good. He's too much of a coward to be up front.

"You don't get to come and go, Josh. You either have regular visits with her, or nothing. None of this months or years of silence at a time. Can you commit to regular visitation? Twice a month?"

The silence stretches and I plead, "Something?"

I sound desperate, but I don't care. I'd rather beg for his bare minimum than have to tell Lydia she'll never see her dad again.

Josh blows out a breath, his nose has finally stopped trickling. I can't believe I ever loved him, or saw him as someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

Our happiest moments were all before I got pregnant, before things got serious and we spent our weekends drinking and going on adventures.

Josh wanted the fun, he checked out when it got serious. I'm surprised he lasted five years. Now that I think about it, he probably stuck it out for fear of what our friends would think of him. His best friend, particularly.

"She's going to be happier without me, Gabs," he murmurs, swallowing hard. "She's little, she'll recover fast."

"Not even once a month, a sleepover or something?" I ask, leaning on Nathan because I'm losing the strength to stand the longer this conversation goes on. His arm tightens around me and he kisses my head, which catches Josh's attention, though he has the good sense not to comment on it.

"It's better like this," he balls his bloody and ruined scarf into a ball and goes toward the steps. "I know it sucks, but I'm allowed this choice. I can choose to move on."

White hot rage courses through me, anguish, devastation. I'm being carried across the footpath on a violent wave of emotions and then I'm in front of Josh, slapping him so hard across the face, his head snaps to the side. It's not going to solve anything, it's not going to lessen the hurt Lydia goes through, it's not going to change his mind, but he deserves it.

"You are the most disappointing pathetic excuse for a man, I've ever met."

He glares at me, holding his jaw as I turn around and walk back to Nathan. My hand stings, but I won't let it show. Nathan wraps his arm around me, a safe haven of strength and caring like I've never known. He doesn't budge when I go to tug him toward the car.

Staring up, I notice his jaw fluttering, his focus locked on Josh, like he's far from done seeing his suffering.

"She's a beautiful little girl," Nathan's voice is rough, like he's trying to keep himself in check. "Don't worry, I'll be what you couldn't."

He doesn't wait for a response, his hand threading with mine and pulling me to the car. As soon as we're inside, Nathan starts it up, casting another look out the window, his glare hard. He rests a hand on the steering wheel.

"I could fucking kill him."

I've never heard Nathan sound so dangerous and I believe him, I believe he's struggling to stay in his seat. I move into is line of vision and caress his jaw, feeling the stubble beneath my fingertips, the hardness from having his teeth clenched so tight. His eyes move to mine, softening just the slightest.

"Take me home, Nathan, please."

He kisses me, just a soft one, but it's enough to steal some of the heartache.

His lips linger on mine. "I've got you, Gabrielle."

"I know."