A/N FINALLY! Broken the Top 100 romance. First time since Haunted By The Past! Thank you all for reading, it's the little things that make me smile. Another chapter...maybe this time???? Enjoy, Mz

Chapter Twenty Six

The room was comfortable, a bit feminine with its bag of makeup and row of high heeled shoes in the corner. But with plain navy blue bedding and his own belongings in bags, he felt as at home as he could. But that night as he lay there, looking between the ceiling and the clock on his bedside table, he found sleep evasive. He wondered if it was jetlag, but he'd never had this before and he was used to moving through time zones. It was three am when he pulled himself out of bed and slipped downstairs. A drink and maybe something to eat...it was times like this that he wished he smoked. His smoking colleagues said it was a dead cert to insomnia. Though he wasn't sure he believed that.

A cup of hot chocolate and a biscuit later, he was just making his way back to bed when Lizzie's bedroom door opened. He'd seen her in her pyjamas a lot recently, but it seemed even more intimate there, on the landing, face to face, Lizzie half asleep, pillow creases marking her face, her hair unruly, and he strappy top and shorts, far too revealing. He offered her a smile and she opened her sleepy eyes wider.

"Can't you sleep?"

He shrugged, "blaming it on the travel."

She sighed, "not the room?"

Shaking his head he stepped out of her way, "no. It's a great room, stop worrying, I'm just grateful that I'm here."

Nodding she trudged past him to the bathroom, and he was tucked up under the duvet when he heard her bedroom close a few minutes later. He, however, needed to think cold and ugly thoughts to see his body relax after the encounter with her.

Lizzie didn't really relax the next morning until the front door closed behind Oscar. He was taking Nate in her car to the supermarket, and that would give her time to start de-cluttering and sorting through her sister's bedroom.

It wasn't an easy challenge, fortunately her sister hadn't been a hoarder, years of travelling meant that she lived without many material things, but she had clothes. A lot of them.

It took an hour for her to sort through drawers and the ottoman at the end of the bed. She hadn't touched the wardrobes, but toiletries, personal things...they'd all been sorted into three piles, keep for Nate, trash and then charity, she could fill half a dozen goodwill shops when she started on the real clothes, but even now she'd generated several bags. She'd stored the 'keep' bags in the attic, and disposed of the rubbish. She'd visit the local charity shop later, they'd be glad of the things she'd already stored for them.

She was making coffee when the front door opened and Nate came running in.

"Aunty Lizzie, we bought cake!"

She rolled her eyes at the man who followed him in, but squatted down to his level and gasped, "really? Is Daddy spoiling you?"

Nate gave a little shrug, then rushed to the back door, "can I play on the swing?" When she agreed, he glanced back over his shoulder, "Daaaaad! Are you going to come?"

"Let me unpack the shopping first mate."

Nate's disappointment lasted for a moment, until he was outside and whooping and hollering like the child he was. For a moment Lizzie watched him through the glass and sighed, he was desperate for company, he'd asked for a brother for Christmas, and that had devastated her. She felt that same sense of sadness as she watched him. It was only the sound of noise behind her that dragged her from her reverie.

A dozen bags sat on the dining table, and she turned to him in trepidation, "you've bought...a lot."

He laughed, "boy size portions!"

That made her roll her eyes, he was anything but a boy. Returning to silence she continued to help him fill the fridge and cupboards.

"My mother called earlier."

She'd poured them both a coffee, he sat at the table, but she was perched against the work surface, her eyes on Nate outside. At his words, she turned to him. She'd been so anxious about this moment, his mother, she knew from him and then Freya, was a devoted grandparent. That scared her, someone reinforcing to Oscar his role as a father, she still feared Oscar taking him away. And a grandparent could be the very person who could do that.

She watched him as he looked at her, waiting for him to speak.

He ran a hand over his face, then smiled, "they're good people."

That made her smile, "he deserves good grandparents." Unlike her parents.

"So I was going to take him there on the weekend...if you're ok with that. Either that or my mother arrives here, and she's rather overwhelming."

"Your family are welcome here," she offered, genuinely.

He watched her, and she felt self conscious in that attention, "I love that you'd say that."

She finally met his gaze, "what?"

He shrugged, "you've just had the torture of my sister and Coop interfering; now you're suggesting that my parents visit. Willingly, when I'm sure the major part of you is worried sick about what that will lead to."

She gulped, then gave a half sigh, "I am trying to trust you."

That made him smile, "You are FAR too nice, far, far too nice."

Blushing she stepped away from him, backing out of the door, "I doubt that, but if you want them to visit...then it's fine."

"And if I take him away for a night or two?"

That was a reality she hadn't thought about, so she answered quickly, unemotionally, "I can go see Vic in Liverpool. That is something I haven't been able to do in years."

She didn't want to do it, she wanted to lie in her bed and clutch Nate closely to her chest and never let him out of her sight, but that wasn't sensible, practical, and definitely not probable. She had to share this boy, let him be a part of the family that wanted him so badly. It was no win, not for her anyway, but she had to stop being so selfish.

He as watching her again, it was like he knew exactly what she was thinking.

"You don't have to do this..."

She looked up at him again, "what?"

"Pretend that it's easy."

She sighed, "it is what it is Oscar."

With that she turned and left the room.

Two hours later and she'd packed the car and emptied it of the remnants of a life, the start of a process that would all but erase Janis. That was such a hard and painful thing that she was glad that she was alone to do it. When she got back to the house she felt morose, depressed, this was a huge comedown after their trip away.

The house was quiet, but that wasn't a surprise it was mid afternoon on a Sunday, and the sun was shining. Collapsing onto the sofa she closed her eyes, and let the pain and fatigue embrace her.

Oscar's concern for Lizzie was mounting. Since they'd come back she'd been quiet, distant, and she looked drained. Initially he'd guessed that it was jetlag, but that didn't seem to be easing. He'd brought up the topic of his parents in the distant hope it might cause a reaction, but she trudged along sadly accepting.

She'd gone out without much announcement, and Nate seemed to be struggling with being tired, history told him he needed to get the boy outside, beat the time changes, so they walked to the local park with a football. When they got home they were muddy and tired, but had laughed so much.

They kicked off their coats and shoes in the hallway, but as they entered the lounge giggling loudly, Oscar froze, putting a silencing hand to Nate's mouth. Still dressed in her coat, face finally free of worry lines, fast asleep on the sofa was Lizzie.

Oscar guided Nate past his aunt into the kitchen and proceeded to make him dinner, chicken strips and chips, at his request. He'd almost finished when Lizzie half staggered into the room looking exhausted.

"Hey champ, you got dinner?"

Nate nodded enthusiastically, "my favourite."

She smiled, "You've been really spoilt these last few weeks, you're a lucky boy."

Oscar grimaced at that, but Lizzie wasn't angry when she looked at him, "thought he deserved a little treat before school tomorrow."

"I couldn't agree more."

That surprised him, but he took the support in his stride as he poured her a mug of coffee and handed it to her. "Feel better for the sleep?"

She shrugged, "feel like I've been hit by a truck. I'm just going to take a shower."

"Take your time; I've got dinner in hand."

Smiling she glanced back at him, "not just Nate being spoilt then."

The man was a demon cook, there was no denying that. She sat opposite him demolishing the most indecently good steak that she'd tasted in a long time. Every time she managed to lift her eyes from the plate he was watching her appreciatively, seemingly enjoying watching her eat.

"Am I making a pig of myself?"

He laughed, "no. It's just satisfying seeing someone enjoy the fruits of my labour."

She giggled, "I'm a steak addict."

"There are definitely worse things to be addicted to!"

They both cleared their plates, then he topped up their wine glasses.

"You ok?"

She nodded, taking the glass, "you keep asking me that, I'm fine, I swear."

There was a hint of anger in her voice, and she spotted him flinch a little, "you're very quiet...and you look exhausted. I am thinking that I'm in the way, maybe me moving in was a bad idea."

"Not everything revolves around Oscar Wicker."

She closed her eyes for a moment, hating that she'd snapped too angrily. Because he wasn't the issue really, this was all about her loss, her life...he didn't seem to get that. When she opened her eyes he was studying her. So she got up and moved towards the sink, desperate to escape, but knowing that he'd follow her. As she looked out the window into the dark garden, she felt him move behind her.

"I get that Lizzie, but I am well aware that I am not helping things around here."

Turning, she sighed, the air hissing out her pursed lips, "actually you ARE helping, because for the first time in I don't know how long, I have some time for ME."

"You deserve that so much."

She laughed ironically, "and what do I do? Spend the day sorting through my recently dead sister's belongings. And that was HARD, Oscar. Really hard. So forgive me if I'm not jumping and dancing around. But being in America, it helped me forget, just for a couple of weeks. But here..." she swiped at her eyes. "The fact that she's never coming back...it's everywhere I look."

Grief, Lizzie silently berated herself, is ruining your composure. She'd never have shared such personal and intimate thoughts with anyone else, this man was here, invading everything and seeing her at her worst. And she hated that.

He stepped towards her, a hand coming to each of her arms, "it's ok to be sad. And I can help you do these things."

She snapped, pushing him away, "it's NOT ok, Oscar, it's never OK. I'm not anything will ever be ok again. And I don't need your help to bundle her life up into carrier bags and throw in the bin. I can do that alone. Maybe, just maybe, you've done enough."

She tried to flee, to leave the kitchen, leave his scrutiny, but he reached out, pulling her back against his chest, his arms wrapping around her. It was too much, it was hard for her to breathe, she needed space, distance, time...away from him. But he turned her in his arms, held her close, and she lost her head. Broke down in his arms.

They were in the lounge, sat on the sofa. She had no idea how they got there, but she could see the damn circle on his chest, tears, and quite possibly snot, from her grief.

But Oscar was smiling at her as she lifted her head from him, his blue eyes gentle, his arms allowing her to move, but not sit away from him.

"Better?"

She sighed, "it's all still there...but maybe it's not swallowing me whole now."

He dropped his lips to her forehead, "don't bottle it up, Lizzie. It's not healthy."

She shook her head, dropping it back to his chest, "I don't DO this, Oscar. You don't understand."

He used a hand to tip her chin back, force him to look up at him, "it's YOU that don't understand, Lizzie. You are not on your own anymore. Ok? I'm here to help you...the same ways that you help me."

She thought she was devoid of tears after crying as much as she had, but a sole tear trickled down her cheek, "I don't help you."

He laughed softly, "you help me every hour of the day, help me be a father, push me to the man I want to be. You've already changed me so much. You have no clue."

His eyes were on her, his heart beating beneath her cheek, their breath mingling as he stared at her, and she could do nothing but stare back at him.

Then he moaned. Not a sigh or a groan, not a hint of frustration or anger, but a moan that made her whole body tingle. And when his lips lowered to hers, she couldn't resist.