If you are uncomfortable reading erotic scenes, know that they can be skipped. They are marked with a bolded heart where the scenes begin and end.

Things are finally falling back into place. After a month of wishing, daydreaming, wasting away, lusting, and despairing, things are finally going to get fixed.

All will again be fine. I'll be happy and productive and Devon will finally give me a break from crying and protesting certain things that I usually don't do with him.

The sliding door opens and closes, opens and closes, opens and closes, and the person or persons that walk through are always people I don't recognise and mean nothing to me.

I get restless, but more than bouncing my leg and occasionally getting up, walking around and leaning back I can't really do. Those gestures in no way reflect how I actually feel.

My eyes are glued to the door that is still sliding first left and then right, and when it's somebody's turn again to walk through, it slides left and then right. And left and right. And left and right. I've been staring at it for so long that I get a nauseuous feeling in my stomach and I see no other way out than to stop following the door's movenent so religiously.

I wait for what feels like an eternity and I'm sure that when I'll be leaving the place, my hips will need to be replaced urgently. Kind of hard to thrust if they keep squeaking and dislocating.

When my stomach calms down, I immediately return to my look out post where I stubbornly remain. People bump into me and I barely budge, I don't even give them a nasty glare that I usually would because what if I miss it!

When my heart has given up and almost extinguished the flame of excitement , it erupts like a volcano when the next person's clueless facial expression when they walk through the door, changes into my favourite bubbly smile in the whole wide world and as their eyes stop on me.

My heart flutters so hard that I fear it might fly out of my body, and whether I like it or not, the smile could not be held back under any circumstance.

The initial slow steps that she took as she walked through the door turn into a sprint in my direction, the luggage flying around uncontrollably behind her until she crashes into me with an all-embracing and jittery hug.

She almost knocks me down, and the moment that she's back in my arms, I clasp around her like a flytrap. The scent of her hair that is so familiar and calming to me immediately spikes up my happiness level, like it's some kind of a drug, and I tighten my grip around her.

"I missed you so much," I whisper and kiss her hair as I'm still hugging her close and feeling her hands grip onto me for dear life.

She tears her cheek away from my chest and looks up with a big bubbly smile and slightly teary eyes. "I missed you too. I'm so glad I'm back."

She makes a nudging gesture with her chin and nose, which is basically her sign that she's too short to do it herself and means that she demands a kiss. That I obviously oblige, but only with a soft, society-accepting peck because if she gave me any more freedom, I'd straight-up devour her right here at the airport.

She gladly accepts the kiss and then adds three more to it and the quick pecks all around my face, while giggling happily.

"Okay, okay," I laugh at her attack as well, and though my hands try to stop her, I am really relishing this. One month of not seeing her or going out with her is a long damn time.

She gives me another tight squeeze when I get her hands off of my face, and she sighs dreamily.

Caressing her back during that time, I murmur, so intimately that only she can hear me: "How about we head home?"

Without looking up or moving at all, she asks: "Which home?"

If I weren't so happy to see her after such a long time, my heart would've already dropped, since this was kind of the argument we had had right before she left on her ballet tour. It still catches me a little bit off guard because I really don't want to fight about anything, let alone the separate residence thing we've got going on.

When I don't say anything for a bit, she adds in a cautious tone: "Have you maybe given it any thought?"

You left me marinating in it, what do you think!

"Yeah, a little bit." I let go of her and grab her luggage. "I guess I wouldn't mind it if you left this over at my place. Long term. How does that sound?"

Annabelle investigates me at first, which I know because I see the slight narrowing of her eyes, but once she hears the words 'long term' leave my lips, even her shoulders sink down with relief. "Really?"

"Yeah. In case you stay over for a few days or something. That good enough?"

I know what she wants, she is ready for the whole shebang, diving in headfirst, and I guess that should have been expected by now, we have been together for almost a year now, and from what I understand, which has been clearly, but heinously hiddenly implied to be, Mason couldn't wait to move in together with her, to which I may have clearly, but heinously hiddenly implied that he was also the first one who couldn't wait to move out. And then she flew several states away from me and I was only honoured with a simple: 'landed in Minnesota' and 'in Rhode Island now' messages to let me know that she was at least still alive.

"It's a start. Thank you." That's all she says, and she better be happy with it, or I'm gonna fly several states away from her next.

"It's not like you gave me any choice." The words leave my mouth before I have an opportunity to think about them, and when I realise I have in fact said them out loud, I, in shame, cannot bring myself to look her in the eye.

I'm not holding her suggestion of eventually living together against her, nor am I completely opposed to the idea. It's the silence of her absence that followed the argument, which triggered in me all the wrong kinds of feelings, from abandonment to powerlessness. All that not clearing it up before she left did to me is that I almost felt like I have to cave into anything she suggests.

"Is that how you feel?" She says and the guilt her voice is ridden with is honestly heartbreaking. But I can't exactly disagree with any of it.

I sigh as regret washes all over me. I should've just kept my mouth shut, say 'you're welcome' and be on our merry way. "It felt off, that's all."

"Nathan, I..." Her gaze drops down as she probably contemplates what to say, or now she's marinating herself in feelings. "That's not what I was trying to say. I just wanted to see things move a little bit." She takes a hold of my free hand and squeezes it between her palms. "I didn't want to make you feel like we were in danger, and I do want you to be comfortable with the idea of things heading somewhere."

Well, you were heading somewhere, that's for sure.

I have to really tame the spite in me that wants to say something bitter and, in all honesty, hurtful as well. I have to remind myself that this isn't Patty, who'd return something similar and then we'd be a happy couple once again a few hours later. Annabelle would straight up whoop my disrespectful ass by taking none of that bullshit.

The thing is that I'm really not opposed to the idea of her being around more. It's scary as hell for me in theory, but when I think back on all the days that I was the most relaxed and at my ease when I came back home, 85% of the time, she was there. She wasn't necessarily doing anything, or she was doing her own stuff completely separate from me, but she was there.

Yet, when on one lovely day, she hit me with 'have you ever considered moving in together', it was as if she broke a bottle on my head in a barfight. It took me by surprise and when she started mixing in Mason and how he did things, I was fuming with rage that somehow Mason had still done things better, and to me it sounded as if I've been ignoring the seriousness of our relationship ever since I met her parents ages ago. While she might be right, I was simply enjoying our vibe. Mix that with everything that I've been afraid of my entire life, and what you have is a nice mess that she then left me with.

"Look," I say and grab one of her hands with ehich she encapsulated mine. "It's all good. I'm comfortable with the new arrangement. Is it good enough for you?"

Her eyes visibly light up and she gives me a quick nod and a held-back smile. "Yes. Very."

How am I supposed to not be happy when she looks at me like that? I'd probably agree to murdering someone if she gave me the right look. "Then that's all that matters. Now, let's go home."

***

The ride home and the rest of the evening were full of Annabelle's impressions and memories from the tour. At first, she only mentioned and described what happened, then she got excited in the middle of her story-telling and even demonstrated a few of the things that stuck with her and wanted to share with me.

One moment she was talking about and reenacting how one of her co-dancers got drunk and she sloppily tried to fight off everyone who wanted to prevent her from calling her ex, then she switched to the most perfect unwarmed up pirouette I have ever seen with illegally angelic grace.

Nothing humbles you and your physique more than a well-trained ballerina. Now I'm almost ashamed to say that I keep in shape around her.

She, however, seemed incredibly happy. And as I listened and watched her relay all those stories over to me with a big smile and escaped giggles, I realised I have not felt as warm ever since she had to leave for the tour. Really, things were back in balance now, and weirdly, it struck me all of a sudden that things feel that way primarily when she's in my proximity, so the new arrangement is exactly what I want, it's just a bit scary.

After the Chinese take-out delivery, with candles - because though I'm lazy, I'm still romantic - we both got nested on the couch, she in a bunch of blankets and decorative pillows, and me just man-spreading next to her. We found a channel with Crazy Stupid Love, the film I have grown to despise because ever since we watched it together for the first time a couple of months ago, she's not stopped making comparisons between me and Ryan Gosling's character.

By the end of the first half, Annabelle's head is serenely resting on my shoulder and her hand over my hips. With my hand that's holding her behind her shoulders, I am gently caressing her with small movements up and down her arm.

Life's just... Really good. Life at that moment is what it was always meant to be. And yeah, would it be really that bad to have something like this multiple times a week until it became... well, an everyday thing? I don't think so.

She has asked me if I'm fine with our recent arrangement a couple of times this evening, and every time guilt was written all over her face, which is something I don't know how to feel about. She did push it, so it is kind of her fault, but she's also been very patient and never compared our relationship to the ones that her friends have where they ended up moving in together after only a couple of months. I get it why she wants it. And every time that she asked me the same thing, I'll be honest, I gave her a half-assed answer that I'm fine, nothing more and nothing less, which, if she did the same to me, would probably enrage me with its uncertainty.

Her eyes are fixed on the screen when I nudge her from the side until she looks up. "Annabelle?"

"Hm?"

She lazily blinks when she glues her eyes away from the screen and her cheek cuddles closer to my arm, so it looks the exact same way as when she does her bubbly smile.

"Shall I put your worries to rest?"

At that her eyes grow wider, but not expectantly, more like regretfully, and that makes me feel like crap. So, you know... Old Nathan's dead, buried and caged, like a medieval vampire.

"Hey," I say and caress her cheek. "For a long time now, I've seen things differently, okay? It's taking that step that's a bit scary."

She gulps and tries to exhale deeply without showing much distress. I guess this has been weighing on her way more than she'd let me know.

"One thing has always remained true, though, which is why I'm happy to get things moving like we agreed to. And that's that... Well... For me, home is wherever you are."

Annabelle's lips momentarily part slightly as she seems to be totally surprised by my words. Her eyes curiously investigate my face, but there's an undertone of happiness or gratitude present as well.

I'm about to add more it and further reassure her by telling her that if I didn't feel like doing any of it or saying what I said, i simply wouldn't have suggested it or done, but she cuts me off mid-sentence with a warm a hasty kiss. That kiss lasts incredibly long and I completely melt into it, so when there is a hint of her pulling away or closing the kiss, I quickly kiss her again. It's all slow and loving, like sending each other a loving text, the kind that calms down your mind and excites your heart at the same time.

She ends up sitting up a bit and gently clasping my face with both of her hands, and whenever she does that, I could die at that moment and think it's fine because I have in this life experienced the ultimate level of happiness.

♥

My body, at first overflown with tenderness, commitment and nothing but desire to make her feel safe, is drenched with ravenous hunger to feel her when simple kisses don't do it for her any longer and she mounts me and starts kissing me like this is the first time she can let her sexual desires run wild. It's like there is a sudden click in my brain and I go from wanting to reasure to desperately trying to devour.

Leaning down and kissing me, while moving her hips ever so slightly, but enough to teasingly grind against me, her hair makes a beautiful veil of red around me. With her mini movements of her hips, she is stirring every sense in me, and after a month of not seeing her and of missing her in every aspect possible, I almost unknowingly respond to that tease with a slight lunge forward in attempt to reach her and really show her how much I've missed her.

But with her hand on my upper chest, she pushes me back away from her and whispers against my lips: "You're at my mercy now."

Ooooh...

I beam up at her with clueless eyes, but filled with nothing but desire and shock how she's just put me in my place. She smiles widely at that, and never breaking the eye contact, she pushes her hips deeper and more firmly against me, "Have you missed me that much, huh?"

I try not to show the effect that this is having on me, but all I manage is holding back a grunt in exchange for letting out a tiny whimper. Super manly.

She grins at that and runs her hands over my chest, neck and up to my face, before she leaves down and leaves sloppy wet kisses all over my neck, saying in-between each: "I have missed you too, you know?"

All the while, my hands are travelling over her back, her hips, her shoulders, feeling every speck of her physique and her body, like I'm trying to remember what she feels like in my arms and to compensate for all the days and nights and mornings and afternoons and evenings and breakfasts and events where I couldn't get my hands on her.

She lifts herself up again and presses her forehead against mine, leaning me so far back that my head's basically resting on the back of the sofa, and she's towering over me. "I'll show you," she says at first and makes a pause, which she uses to spread her legs even farther apart, and then makes a single grind so aggressive that my whole body almost contracts at the burning desire to have her, to feel her, to give myself to her, and then come what may. When she sees me gasping for air, she smothers that with a kiss, really putting me at her mercy, and then says while making a strong, but slow grinding move: "I'll show you how much I missed you."

Please... Please... Please, do...

Her hip movements and her grinding against me becomes a constant thing that gradually starts moving at a faster and more demanding pace, and it feels like I have never before hated for us to be fully clothed. Every instinct in me is telling me to rip off whatever we're wearing and go completely primal. If there's anything that makes me human, that's all gone.

Sooner than later, her sighs become moans, and her moans gradually become louder, more prolonged as she's really getting into heat in that very moment. Many times in the middle of it all, she cups my face, which makes my heart jump and sing a serenade, but then when she kisses me like I'm food and she hasn't eaten in months, the libido and the desire completely overpower the heart and send me into overdrive.

When she pulls away the last time, she stops completely, and I'm ready to pounce her because you can't just do all of that and then stop! But then I see her in a mindless hurry getting rid of my trousers and her shorts, and I nicely sit back tightly, watching her wanting me as much as I want and need her as well.

Shorts and panties flying wherever, she presses her naked parts against mine and my mind begins to spiral. There's only one thing clear in my head, and that is that I better get her soon, that I need to feel her or I might actually die.

She takes my hand and puts her right between her thighs and whispers against my lips when she's done wetting them with a hungry kiss: "This, Nathan, this is how much I want you."

Oh, that's not wet... That is drenched.

I look up at her, thinking: I'm fucking sick of these games, and say as I lift her up: "Then take me already." And I ease her down when she positions herself just right.

I don't know which one breathes out a bigger and breathier sigh of relief, but holy mother of fuck, things are finally back in fucking balance.

She exhales and swallows hard as she circles around me with her hips, before she starts moving up and down. At first, she does so slowly, like she's taking it all in, which, like a champ, she definitely is, and then she picks up the pace, which I naturally help her with.

During her moves, the hands on her back, take a hold of her shirt and pull it off of her, so she really is in front of me in all her natural beauty. The first moment of seeing her breasts jump in their jiggly manner with the momentum almost makes me nut right then and there like all stamina's been depleted in that one month.

She leans down to me with her whole torso and my hands slide down her back to her firm and just as jiggly backside and squeeze it with all the aching desire I can't show without completely demolishing her.

I want to bite it.

I want to leave a mark.

I want her to mark me.

I want her to mark me as hers.

She locks her lips with mine again and she moans and grunts and whimpers against my lips. When she pulls back to breathe and to slow down the pace a little, she presses her forehead against mine and holds firmly onto my shoulders, while still moving her hips.

All I feel is an absolute awe of her, how stunning and she free she is, how she's taking all of me and all for her please, how earnest her moves are and how yearningly she whimpers when she finds just the right spot for her.

"Nngh, Nathan..." she cries silently, her fingers digging into my shoulders. "My Nathan..."

My hands travel up her back until they reach the nape of her neck and get tangled among her hair. I hold her down to me, I can feel her rapid breath graze my lips, and I said: "Yours. All yours."

It's like turning a key to start the car, because something awakens in Annabelle that immediately infects me. When she looks down at me, her eyes are hungry for more, but they're so gentle, so soft, so like her, that I feel my heart flutter and something in my stomach move.

Her pace picks up and with every thrust she goes harder, I feel completely consumed by her, I exist right now for her pleasure and as I see her desire climbing the ladder, mine correspondingly intensifies. I want her to enjoy me, I want her to finish both of us off like that.

Her hands climb up to my neck where they stop for a hot second or to. The friction of our bodies is slowly closing in on itself, and nothing else matters to me than to somehow go deeper, my mind is clouded with raw desire to deepen the contact, even if there's no way that that could be done. My body, my mind, my insict, my passionate eagerness and need are all telling me that I have to make it possible. I need to have her here in the deepest, fullest way possible, otherwise it feels like I will perish. No other option feels as good, as inviting, as right as that one.

Every thrust becomes more forceful than the last one, and the steady assertive rhythm soon becomes accompanied with those moans that mean she's getting closer and closer.

If previously I could at least do something, hold her, caress her, touch her, join in on the rhythm, she completely shuts me down when she sits upright, arching her back, pinning me down whether I like it or not, and starts moving like a goddess.

I can feel how her body begins to behave when it's preparing for the grand release, I feel how she's oh so, painfully slowly contracting around, like how her body wants to keep me, like it doesn't want to let go of me, and knowing, seeing and feeling such pleasure emanating from her, it inevitably leads to me getting the first dangerous tingles in my lower abdomen as well.

I sit up more upright and hold her close to me, so our chests are wrapped in a warm embrace, and I bury my face in her neck, leaving a wet trail of hot kisses. Annabelle breathes out a heavy sigh, like it's just another thing overloding her senses, like she can't handle any of it anymore, but she still tilts her head back and exposes her neck to me, granting me more and deeper access.

Her moans become more rapid and frequent, and she shifts her thighs around me a couple of times until she squeezes me between her legs and notably speeds up the movement of her hips. I know how close she is, she is mere moments away from it, and I couldn't admire or love her more for it.

Then in one quick moment, everything changes when the thrusts become more aggressive, and Annabelle's moans become a mixture of disjointed chaos and constant climb to relief. "Nathan... Na-Nathan... Oh god... I'm - I'm...!"

Je-sus Christ!

Intertwining my hands behind her back, I lock her down to me while my free palms find her hair and pull on it, so her neck and back arch in one perfect motion.

Annabelle cries out when I sit up just a little, giving her more space, and so much more depth that it gives me a ravenous vertigo. She buries her fingers into my shoulders and drags them around leaving a red streak over my skin, while I kiss her neck, her shoulders, her jaw, and lightly bite on her breasts and her earlobe.

For a few more thrusts, she is still vocal, but in one swift movement, she completely tenses up and all the moans and gasps get caught in her throat as she tightly presses herself against me and moves more aggressively and even more swiftly with whatever power and strength that are still left in her.

Leaning down to me, she then loudly starts to pant, everything she was unable to express just moments ago.

I am almost deprived of all awareness of what's going on around me, around us, and having Annabelle reach that final is like a stimulant drug to me that clouds my sight and my judgement and leaves only one thing on my mind: make this woman completely mine.

"Uuhhnn... Fuck..." I sigh and let the raw instincts take over.

Still holding her shaky body, I flip the position without ever moving out of her, and lie her down on the couch. She yelps a little bit at that, and even though she's tired as hell, she still somehow sounds impressed.

I've still got more than a few tricks up my sleeve.

Sliding my arms underneath her, so her chest is tightly pressed against mine and our abdomens are basically inseparable, I start moving for my pleasure now, pleasure that is so close, so within reach that I can practically taste it.

For me, the atmosphere in the room is straight up set on fire, and it feels as if I can feel the beads of steam laying down all over my body.

I want her. I crave her. I will take her.

A familiar and almost unbearable sensation makes its great comeback from when Annabelle was mounting me with zero mercy, and it's spreading like a disease all over my body. The more I move, the harder and the deeper I go, the more painful and the more dominant it gets. It's rising in my body slowly like a tsunami that's pulling the ocean back to the horizon and gathering the waves.

And just like tsunami, the explosive release spills all over me, my body, my mind, my goddamn spirit, all of them crumbling under this unstoppable force.

❤️

I pant like my soul has left my body, which probably has before it found its way back in and is now swimming in absolute opium that's overflowing my body.

I gradually relax and lower down on the couch where I can rest without having to hold myself up and without choking Annabelle in the process.

We just breathe in silence for a couple of moments, it might've been more, but who the hell is keeping count when everything's as perfect as this.

"Well, uh... I really really missed you," I mumble, my face smushed in her neck, and I have zero desire to move an inch.

Annabelle, despite the exhaustion, erupts in a giggling fit and then turns her face towards me, which puts an end to my nuzzles.

"I noticed, yeah," she says when her giggling eventually calms down. "You really were saving all of that just for me, huh?"

When she tips her chin my way I automatically press my lips to her, and as I do that, I find it impossible to tear away from her, like I'm an addict in the middle of a relapse and I'm dangerously nearing an overdose.

"I have sworn myself to abstinency for a month, yes. I've been a good christian boy," I whisper after pulling away and then I quickly plant another peck first on her lower and then on her upper lip. I repeat the whole thing multiple times.

In the middle of all these kisses, she finds an interval of my lips not occupying hers and mumbles: "Liar, you're neither good nor christian. Let alone both combined."

I grin against her lips, so damn relieved that she's back because things have been so lonely and quiet and so... obedient and complicit. "I think I've successfully proven that tonight."

"Mhm, your favourite past time activity," she sayd accusingly, but I know, I know she's being playful. This is, after all, a part of my charm. And she knows she loves it.

"Multiple times even. That's how you know I've been purposefully sexually depriving myself for a month."

"First of all," she cringes immediately after hearing me say that, "never say it like that ever again. And second, multiple times?"

"Yeah," I say when I find a spot under her jaw where I leave one wet kiss before moving lower down her neck until I get to her clavicle. That's when I look up at her. "And you know, I'm still..." I don't break the eye contact with her when I leave multiple sensual kisses all over her breasts. "Really... Really..." I watch her eyes grow wider, and after every kiss, she parts her lips and slowly lets out a hefty exhale as her body physically responds to the teases. I move down her abdomen and plant a swift kiss here and there until I'm low enough to leave a passionate lengthy kiss on her thigh, and Annabelle's legs automatically part wider and rest on my shoulders. "Really... missing you."

"Well," she swallows and bites her lip, "my father says never to suppress your feelings."

"Oh, Annabelle, you really don't want to be thinking about your father right now."

***

~ 1 month later ~

I'm getting flashbacks from a year ago when I was waiting in my car in the exact same parking space in front of Annabelle's apartment building for her to come out all dolled up. Even Devon's the same level of annoying. You know what, maybe even worse. He's goddamn insufferable, except that now he's even more vocal with a bigger vocabulary of syllables.

"Devon, do that one more time and I'm dropping you off at the orphanage!"

I am this close to losing my shit, which isn't the easiest thing to do with a baby in the back seat throwing his socks at you and giggling ferociously.

I have already confiscated one and it's resting safely in the glovebox, so even Annabelle can't suspect a thing. I don't fucking care anymore if his toes freeze and fall off. But then the other sock flies my way and just barely misses my face. It lands perfectly on the steering wheel, and I'm incredibly grateful that we're not actually in the middle of traffic, so I can stop and threaten this fucking baby.

I grab the sock, turn around to look at him and dangle it in front of his eyes. "This is the last time you get to wear socks. I hope you've said goodbye to them."

Devon stares at me with big innocent beamy eyes that always work on everybody, but this kid has pushed me too far, I know what's hiding behind them, a carefully thought out strategy on how to bring me down!

And then, of course, waterfalls! Devon starts to cry like his toes actually froze and fell off, but let's add starving for three days and not seeing sunlight in a week to that - he screams like that. He fights against the seat straps like a pitbull who has only known how to bite other dogs and kill for survival.

"Stop it. Now," I say. Not even firmly, just bored out of my mind because he is always trying to manipulate me. "It's not going to work, and I would at least expect a better strategy after all this time."

In that very moment, he stops crying, and goes back to beaming at me, his face red from all the fake crying and loud screaming. His eyes right now are saying something else than before. He tried to look innocent the first time, now he just looks insulted, and if he could speak fluently, he'd probably say: What did you fucking say to me?

This baby, I swear to God...

The traffic control suddenly tunes in and apparently that means green light forDevon because he starts screaming and crying again, and he doesn't stop for ages! My guess is that this is the endurance strategy, which... fair, that's a pretty stubborn way to go that can get you a nice win, so I respect the hustle.

For thirty minutes Devon doesn't cease with his crying. If I weren't so sick of his bullshit, I would've been concerned that he is going to choke or have an aneurism at the ripe age of 18 months, but maybe, in this case I even would've preferred it!

Annabelle finally walks out through the front door, and oh... my... Her hair's pulled back in a high ponytail with shorter strands in the front framing her face. She's again wearing a dress, but this time it's a gentle pastel yellow summer dress that reaches down below her knees and has a gently ruffled short sleeves.

It hits me then that I'm wearing a tight black linen shirt and black jeans. How would people ever believe that we're actually together. I look like a villanous predator compared to her gentle and mannered look.

Just the way I like it.

"Hi, sorry," she says immediately when she opens the door and isn't even properly in the car yet. In that very moment, Devon shuts up and is a happy baby again. I want Annabelle's powers. "I couldn't decide which shoes would match this dress the most and I almost forgot to do something with my hair in this heat as well. I hope we won't be late."

"I don't care if we're late. Stars never arrive on time. I like to leave people waiting. C'mere," I say when she's fully in the car busying herself with a seatbelt.

She looks up completely clueless why I'm summoning her like that, and I quickly stamp a gentle kiss on her lips.

She smiles. "What was that for?"

"Why, I love kissing beautiful women." My fingers rest under her chin and I smile. "Well, a woman."

And when I tell you, the blush!

Annabelle, first looking at me expectantly, quickly averts her gaze down at her hands that are restlessly smoothing out her dress over her stomach and thighs. Almost one year later and she's still weak for my charm.

Heh, the boy's got game!

"Sometimes I think you flatter me way too much," she says a bit reservedly.

I start the engine as she says that, put it in first gear and we're on our way. "And I think that you're wrong." We soon land on a red traffic light and it's then that I look at her directly. "So, how are we gonna solve this issue?"

She smiles and shrugs, but again looks down and away from me. "I'm more than sure you've got plenty ideas for that."

She's got no idea how right she is. I would even let her pick the category.

The drives were usually full of chit-chat or banter or Devon having a go at things, but now that we've done this so many times - gone somewhere together, gentle silence is actually incredibly comforting. Devon in the back occasionally gets vocal when we drive past a construction site or two and sees the cranes, but other than that, it's just the soft and fairly sound blaring of music that fills the air.

At the very first, I opposed it because all of a sudden when Annabelle came with her ABBA and Hozier playlist, and an occasional Mr Worldwide, my alfa romeo because beta romeo. The days of Bruce Springsteen, Bon Jovi and The Cure were now shared with Mamma Mias and Super Troopers. Though, I have to say, even though I will never admit it, Andante, Andante is something more than a melody with lyrics. When I heard the tune, the familiar sequence of the initial ting ting-ting-ting tiiiing, my brain puts everything on hold and I just listen to the song and think of Annabelle. As far as she's concerned, if she ever asks me if I like it, I will say that I don't mind it and leave her to her suspicions.

Eventually, the song does come up and she freely hums to it, and Devon in the back attempts to do the same while trying to fight the force of restriction of the belt keeping his meaty legs in place. Only when Annabelle turns to look through the window do I allow myself to mouth the words.

I'm your music. I'm your soooooong. Play me time and time again and make me strong.

She turns back and my mouth is closed shut as the song keeps playing.

And we were just getting to the best part!

Towards the end of the song, we land on another red light and just like every time that's happened, my hand instinctively slides over to rest on her thigh.

Praying that she's not looking over at me, I mouth my favourite part of the song.

Andante, andante... Oh, please... Don't let me down...

Her hand finds mine and covers it until our fingers intertwine, and she says: "I must've imagined you liking the lyrics, yes?"

Without looking at her, I immediately reply, "Absolutely."

She smiles at that like I'm a hopeless case, but in all honesty, she got me to commit, she's not also going to get me to admit I like ABBA.

Annabelle then lets go of my hand to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, which is perfect because now my hand can go deeper between her thighs. When, apparently, it gets too close to the apex of her thighs, even though I shockingly wasn't even headed there, Annabelle swats my hand away.

"How dare you," I say begrudgingly.

"Because it's improper. And I'm trying to keep you from sex rehab."

"Aaaaand... if I do this?" I slide my hand under her dress and put it on not too much, but quite on the edge of that fine line of her inner thigh.

Annabelle keeps on her poker face. "Still very improper," she says and looks me directly in the eye.

I eye her up and down and smile. "You're not moving my hand though."

She smiles in return, not the bubbly or polite or neutral smile, but the challenging one, which to me is the most seductive one. "No, I'm not."

Little vixen!

The light then turns green and I sigh heavily. "You got lucky right there."

Give it twenty more minutes and we arrive at our destination, the suburbs, a place I still haven't warmed up to. Luckily, Annabelle doesn't really care much about it, she's happy with living either here on in the city as long as I and nice park with lots of greenery are there.

Annabelle, Devon and I barely make it to the backyard with Daniel, who happily eyes Annabelle, even warmer now than last year, and even engages her in smalltalk regarding citylife during the summer and melting heat, when all three nephews of mine locate my presence and charge at me.

There's a mixture of voices and cries all screaming my name as Aidan and Ewan do their best to knock me over, and Bram only hurrying over. "Uncle Nathan!"

When I'm not lying on the floor in defeat like a shot-down Godzilla, and after Aidan tears his present from my hands (which, by the way, he fucking loves again!), Bram flies into my arms happily. After the other two are done marvelling at the green remote-controlled Jeep, they occupy Annabelle with how pretty she is and is they could see Devon. Devon is not as amused.

Over the course of the year, Bram and Ewan were allowed to come over a couple of times, but only if Annabelle was present, and both of them, Bram especially liked being around her. After they had stayed over multiple times, Annabelle quickly became a favourite among the kids, which... I sulked about a bit. But only until it was proven to me that they still like me for how fun I am, which even Annabelle cannot compare with. Aidan also stayed with us for a few days when Patty was busy giving birth to his sister and Daniel was buy being a complete nervous wreck. That's when he took a great liking of Devon, which after seeing Annabelle give Aidan some attention, Devon did not too often exactly happily reciprocate that.

"You doing alright?" I ask Bram who's still holding onto me. Divorce between May and Thomas hasn't exactly been the easiest because the former is being a little bitch who wants to ruin May's life as much as possible while he still can.

Bram hums something that he probably intended to sound as affirmative, but it actually came out as worrisome.

"Is it time for you two come over again and go to laser tag with me or something?" I ask remembering that while Annabelle was away and Bram, Ewan, Devon and I made a total chaos out of my apartment, Bram mentioned he wanted to give it a try.

He giggles boyishly and looks up at me with large beaming eyes. "And tell mum that Annabelle will come with?"

I snort upon realisation that Annabelle's responsible character has become the perfect cover for being allowed to do stupid shit. And the best part? She's always in on it. As long as I behave. Whatever that means.

"Bram, Annabelle will be on the opposing team," I say and Bram laughs excitedly, the child-like quality that all children his age should have returning back to his cheeks.

While Annabelle is supervising Aidan holding a baby bigger than his little sister, I call Ewan over right after I see May at the party looking away and chatting to some other mums.

Perfect!

"Ewan, Ewan, I can teach you a nice little trick for your mum." Ewan is immediately mine. I love my little cult of children. "Just hold this finger very tightly and pretend it hurts, okay? Then you tell her you've got a tiny cut, and when she asks you to show it to her, but be careful, she has to lean down, okay? Then you flick her nose. Just like this." I demonstrate a little flick and Ewan can barely hold back his laughter. "Got it?" Ewan nods with explosive energy. "Okay, go and try it out. And when you do it, don't forget to run away, okay? That's part of the joke."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!" He exclaims, which luckily, gets completely lost among the noise that other children are making.

And he's off. I follow him with my gaze and wait for showtime. Bram and I are like to photographers hiding in the bushes waiting for the leopard to do something interesting.

When Ewan reaches her side, his performance is flawless and immediate concern spreads over May's face as she crouches down and asks Ewan to show her where the ouchie is. At that moment, Ewan with the speed of light flicks her nose upwards, laughs loudly, and like a good boy runs off to other kids.

May has absolute murder in her eyes and without a second thought looks over at me like she wants to see my funeral as soon as possible. Then she starts marching over.

Annabelle sees the ordeal and asks: "What did you do now?"

"Taught Ewan another trick," I grin and Annabelle sighs like the old cop from Lethal Weapon right before he says he's too old for that shit.

May stomps over, turns to Annabelle and gives her a nice smile: "Hi, Annabelle." And then she turns to me: "What!"

I eye her hair very obviously, observing that she dyed her hair blonde. "You look like a whore."

MY sister crosses her arms and happily spits out: "Well, you are one."

I snort and give her my beamiest smile. "At least I'm a pretty one."

May, having no worthy comeback read for me, gives me a second of her ice-cold stare, just to let me know she's annoyed with me, before she looks over at Annabelle. "I really wonder what you're doing with a guy like him."

Annabelle, now already resilient to May's remarks on her judgement and taste, throws me a quick glance, smoothes out the right side of my collar, and replies, "Mostly disciplining him."

"Something a younger sister will never be entitled to," I add and watch May's eyes draw a large circle in the air.

I can clearly see the dark bags under May's tired eyes that are hiding behind a layer of makeup, and I know that her sunken droopy cheeks aren't the result of her aging, but actually a result of many sleepless nights or exhausting and stressful days.

"Do I dare ask?" I ask May and at first she gives me an annoyed look of what the fuck am I even talking about, but when she reads from my face that I'm talking about something serious, she visibly swallows, and she swallows hard.

"Let's make this easier for the both of us, stop pretending like you care." She tries to brush it off, and to someone who doesn't know her too well and is only familiar with her usual cold and abrasive attitude, it would look as exactly that. But to a sharper eye like mine, her tone's a little bit too harsh, her body language too abrupt, her expression riddled with just a little bit too much disinterest. It's impressive though, it definitely fooled Annabelle. At most, she probably thinks that May's reaction is harsher because she's stressed out, but I know that that's not how May works.

Annabelle jumps in to soften the situation, but looks unsure who is she trying to calm down - May from "lashing out" or me from taking it personally. "Listen, we understand. We won't poke around, right, Nathan?"

Fine, May. Let's play your game.

"You're right. I'll stop pretending." I give May my corporate smile, feeling Annabelle's judgemental eyes on me. "How about we talk about something I do care about? You could show me where Daniel's hiding all the cool beer because I as sure hell am not drinking whatever's here on the tables."

"Nathan," Annabelle sighs scoldingly and gives me another pointed look.

May, however, looks oddly relaxed about what I said, and I remember how thankful I was for Justine's arrogant attitude when I was going through my own thing with Annabelle. Blood's thicker than water, huh? "To have the baby shut up, give him a bottle, right?"

With a nod to the side, she signals me to follow her lead. Poor little sister. So easily manipulated. So clueless.

We slip away from the crowd, and I don't dare look back at Annabelle because I fear I'd get stabbed at best.

Once inside the house, May and I practically raid the kitchen. Daniel's the youngest, so he has no say in any of it anyway.

"Wow, he keeps so much shit," I say when all I see in the birthday-stocked pantry is a bunch of fruity juices, three different kinds of pale ale and all of them being entirely unknown to me, and random bottles of wine you get for special occassions all of which must be past their date.

Where's my whiskey!

May, while looking for a cold cocktail mix, absent-mindedly says, "Maybe it's Patty saving them to poison you one day. Or Annabelle since she's now in the mix as well."

I roll my eyes so hard that I'm sure I suffer brain damage from it, but even then I wouldn't be able to hit May's low. "And you'd probably suffer a stroke if you didn't make a Patty-still-wants-Nathan joke." I turn around to look at her and when she does the same, I say, "Please, do that."

She ignores my last remark and immediately goes back to defending her repetitive and stubborn attempts. "You don't think it stings her just a little bit? Pining after you for years only for you to swear off any kind of a relationship, even spiting her, and then suddenly become a reformed man with some new woman?"

I look closely at a couple of pickled things and given what all they've got in these jars, I just might start believing that one of the two is a witch, and we all know it's not Daniel.

"No, I don't."

She snorts. "The same as it stung you when she started dating Daniel? Still no?"

"Because, May," I say and turn around when I get bored and creeped out by the pantry, "we wanted each other in a sick kind of way. So, no. I don't. We're both happier with the people we're with now."

"Looks like it," she mutters and looks through the window where we can both see Annabelle talking to other people, mostly members of my family. "At least for you. That I'm almost certain."

I follow May's eyes until mine stop on Annabelle smiling at the children running around her, following the conversation of the little group she found herself in, while systematically squeezing Devon's little fingertips one by one, which keeps him still and relaxed.

"Are you good though?" May asks.

It's only when I look back at her that I feel a previously-unknown small smile fade off my face. I look back at Annabelle with a bit more awareness, and when I observe the sway of her ponytail when she moves and how the dress rests on her body, I feel the smile creeping back up.

Without looking away, I say, "If I had to describe it with one word?" May's eyes and mine meet again. "Happy. Probably for the first time in a while."

When May smiles a little at me, like she's really proud to hear that, it hits me that I'm talking about my, no longer sex life, but love life with my sister.

"It took you a really long time," she snorts, signalling that pissy May is back, and things resemble normal life again.

"How bad is it for you?" I casually throw that in right when she is passing me a cold beer. Her hand freezes up in mid-air and she refuses to look my way. "You can't fool me, May."

She slowly turns her gaze towards me and sets the beer on thr big kitchen counter. I expect her to grow all malicious again, and at first, it looks as if that's gonna happen, but then she looks around and sees everyone having fun and no one besides Annabelle knowing where we are, and tears swell up in her eyes until the dam is broken and they freely run down her face.

She wipes them all in a rush and tries to dodge my gaze again. "I've handled other hard things, I'll handle this one as well."

Uh-huh, stellar job, genius.

"Sure, never said that's off the table for you. I just want to know how bad it is."

May glares back at me and when she looks away, tears gather in the pools of her eyes even faster than before. She's one little speck of breath away from breaking down.

I look outside as well and around the house, and quickly say, "C'mere, no one's watching." She eyes my spread arms warily. "May, you're not a cornered animal. If you need to cry, do it now."

I'd expect her to furrow her brows and try to threaten me with something, but the current May practically falls into my arms right afterwards.

When I close my arms around her and feel her shake with sharp inhales, I forget that we're both in our early thirties because it's the exact same scenario to my first year in college when Daniel and May stayed at home and I'd only manage to visit them occasionally.

"It's okay, May. It'll all be okay," I say and tighten the hug when she suddenly and clearly completely uncontrolled sobs loudly.

She continues to cry into my shirt for a bit, like a volcano erupting with all the smoke and lava until the intensity of her cries ceases.

"He left me, Nathan, he left me," she says while still crying, and it's like I hear two things at once - the current heartbreak and one of the breakdowns she had in highschool: I'm all alone. I'm alone in everything, for everything. "Why did he leave me, why did he leave his kids?" What do I do wrong that people don't like me? "W-we, his family, we weren't enough, and he blames us!" I'll never be loved by anyone. "I just wanted to have a family, I wanted life to finally calm down and to find peace in him." I will be stuck in this fucking place my whole life, I'll never leave this house and be happy. "I just wanted to be happy." I want to leave, I want to be loved, I want to be away from this house, I want to be loved! "We were happy. I was happy, so happy. Why wasn't that good enough for him?" I'm not even enough for mum! "God, I don't know what to do." I'm completely lost. "I can't do this, Nathan..." Help me, Nathan...

"May, listen," I sloppily rub her back and shoulders before pulling her away just enough to have her look at me. "Don't you dare waste your time crying over a coward like him, do you hear me?" She tilts her head down towards the floor as tears resurface again. "It's really not worth it, please, listen to me." She peers up at me like she's finally hearing the words she was afraid to believe. "There's nothing to be afraid of. He'll grow to regret it, believe me. He'll have nothing. He has got nothing. You've got your boys and the entire family to back you up."

A single tear slides down her puffy cheek when I say the last sentence, and she struggles to normally say the next thing: "But you've got her and the kid."

"So?"

"There's-" She breaks out into a loud sob again and falls forehead first back into my chest. "There's no place for me anymore. And I can't do this on my own."

"May," I sigh and slide my hand up and down her back. "There will always be place for you, and for Bram and Ewan. I'm not going anywhere." The next few moments would have been completely filled with silence if it weren't for May sniffling. "I'll always be there for you. Like I've always been. No one's ever gonna change that."

May whines a little bit, her completely clenched up body slowly, but gradually relaxing.

I pull her away from me, and she inhales sharply while looking high up at the ceiling and patting away the remaining tears.

"Here," I say, take a paper towel and dab her face until it's dry. The puffiness and redness will go away eventually, at least she's not crying anymore.

She smiles weakly at that and nods knowingly, like believing that things really will be all alright. "Yeah..."

We soon gather up all the drinks, May with two cocktail mix cans, me with a bottle of beer because Daniel only buys cheap ass whiskeys that are only drinkable if mixed with a coke, and show up outside.

"How do I look?" May asks regarding the telltale signs that she was a crybaby and draws a quick swipe under her eyes as if that's gonna help anything.

"Well, with this blonde, your weight and tired red eyes? Like a crackwhore."

She grandly rolls her eyes. "Almost forgot you're a goddamn asshole."

Standing on the porch, available to everybody's eyes, I crunch up the wet and used up paper towel and say loudly: "Think fast!"

I toss the paper towel with May's tears right at her. She flinches as if a lightning struck an inch away from her, and the paper towel ball bounces off of her forehead.

She looks up at me like she's gonna bite my face off, and right before I snatch one of the cocktail mix cans from her, I groan: "Wow, you're still fucking stupid."

May furiously draws up a middle finger and walks away into a crowd of other suburban mums, while I head back to Annabelle who has luckily been abandoned by everyone.

She's so lovely... Damn...

I show up right behind her and she flinches a little bit when I snake my hand around her waist. When I press a kiss one her cheek, she turns to look at me over her shoulder and smiles, "That was very nice of you. With May."

"What, inside?"

"Yeah, I went looking where you two were and saw you hugging. I just left you to it."

"Yeah, uh... Don't tell anyone about that."

Annabelle chuckles. "Because being a hero would completely destroy your 'delightful' reputation, wouldn't it?"

"Oh, absolutely," I smile. I lightly tug on her ponytail, so that her head tilts back just a little bit, before my hand slides back down to her hips and I lean down to give her a sweet kiss on her lips.

My pretty lady.

She turns back towards me just a little bit, but doesn't do much more than that because Devon's still chilling in her arms.

With great pain, I close the kiss, and she pulls away by an inch only to look at me, smile, and plants a quick peck on my lips.

"That's a fantastic photo," says a voice from a close distance, a voice that has for years either kept me going or berated in the worst possible way.

I look up, but I keep my hand on Annabelle's waist nonetheless for the sheer reason of not being able to keep my hands off of her. "Yes, Patty?"

Annabelle completely ignores me, and once she sees that Patty's was there taking a photo of us, she immediately says, "Oh, can I see?"

Patty hands over the phone, so both of us can see. Annabelle gasps in that giddy kind of way, that it's cute and adorable.

I, however... I am completely swept away by it. Devon looks like a curious baby safely tucked in Annabelle's arms, while she is leaning back to me, her eyes closed, her face relaxed, looking otherwordly and ethereal like during ballet, and I... I look like I completely adore her, and that every touch of my fingers on her waist and the kiss is done in the most gentle way possible.

Well, I'm completely screwed, aren't I?

Annabelle peers up at me with big happy eyes and it's evident from the way she smiles that she can barely contain how happy she is. "It's pretty, isn't it?"

My eyes are still glued to the picture until I manage to pull them away and give her a quick nod.

You better not fucking leave me.

"Thank you for taking this photo, Patty," Annabelle smiles gratefully.

"Seemed like it would've been a wasted opportunity otherwise. Oh, by the way, I noticed you don't have a drink."

"Nah, I got this for her," I jump in and hand Annabelle the cocktail mix, which, I guess, is pina colada?

Annabelle eyes it like it's infected with a deadly virus, and with a smile tries to soften the rejection of it. "I'd rather not drink any alcohol, if that's fine."

What?

"What?"

"What? Why?" Patty's eyes jump from her to me and back to her.

"Oh, just 'cause he's drinking," says she and shrugs. "One of us has got to drive home."

But we never... discussed that?

"I guess that's fair," Patty nods. "I can get you a soft drink then. Dr Pepper or something?"

"I'd really like some lemonade, if you've got it."

"Don't worry, I'll go get it," I jump in, kinda desperate to get away from this bestie meeting over here.

Patty then points over to the other side of the backyard, "By the way, you can put Devon there for a bit where all the little babies can play."

"Might be a good idea." Annabelle simply transfers Devon over to me who's kicking his little feet in his usual baby way, while stretching his tiny arms first over to Annabelle and then decides that I happen to be just as worthy. "He's been getting a bit restless from being carried around. And he likes to play with other kids."

"Yeah, terrorising them," I add to that when I try to wipe saliva dripping down his cheek, and he takes it personally and bites on my finger.

"He'll be fine," Annabelle says in that usual optimistic way. "He's not an evil baby, just a baby."

I'll believe it when I see it.

"Besides," Patty intercepts the conversation with a self-assured smirk on her face. "Children mirror the behaviour of their caretakers."

"Oh?" I look up at her and smile proudly. "So glad he's not in your care then." When he is chasing my finger with his mouth again to bite on it, I catch his little lips between my index and my thumb and press it together so his mouth closes. "Let's go, Devon. We've got mischief to spread."

"Muh-hu-muh..." he coos and I walk away with him.

I may take a bigger stroll than necessary around the backyard, keeping that photo always on my mind, and the feelings that I got the second I looked at it.

I should've panicked. I've panicked about many things - meeting her parents and spending the Thanksgiving with them, going to Chicago for Christmas, her introducing me to my friends, her appearing at my workplace when we decided to meet during my lunchbreak, going to San Francisco for a week as our couple's vacation, the whole moving in together situation... But not about this? Why have I not panicked?!

I stop by the toddler place that's all made of foam with lots of baby-safe toys and where a couple of unknown brats by Patty and Daniel's acquaintances are playing. Devon gapes at the colourful place, completely mesmerised by it.

"We like her, don't we, Devon?" I ask and rock him in my arms, and as if on que, he turns his curious eyes right up at me, as if he knows what I'm saying. "It's scary. She might be your Ambe, but I don't think she's my Annabelle. I think that I'm hers."

"Ambe?"

"And I might be completely at her mercy." I sigh and meet his eyes as big as freaking marbles. "If you haven't noticed, I don't like being in that position." I look around the place and sigh again. "I didn't know that I was in one, to be completely honest."

Devon realises that he has fingers on his palms and immediately tries to fit an entire fist in his mouth. When he realises that that won't work anymore, he gives up and leans his head on my clavicle.

"Dada?" He says and when I look down at him, he turns around in frantic panic until he sees Annabelle across the yard. Then he happily exclaims: "Mama!"

Man, we're both fucking screwed.

I follow his gaze and when I find Annabelle, who's chatting with Patty, I don't see a redhead in a yellow dress. And it's how I know that I'm gone beyond repair, because I notice the small things in her movements, how she smiles and looks at people, how she encourages the conversation, the hand gestures that she does when she talks about something that excites her, her usual reserved manner, how she nibbles on a small portion of crisps that someone must've brought her. And I can't decide when does she look the most beautiful.

"Mama," says Devon again and points at her.

I hope so, Devon. I really do.

"Yeah," I smile when I recall back all the motherly things that she's always done for him. How she gave him bubble baths at her place and played with him, how she always comes up with some genius idea to play with colours and let him make an absolute mess, how you can see in her eyes that she has the absolute love for him when she sings him a lullaby while caressing his back to help him fall asleep. "Yeah, she's your mama." It can't get any closer to being a mama than that.

It's kind of a shocking realisation when it hits me that I really want her to be his mama.

"You're just a baby and it's not the same, but..." I continue with a heavy heart. "I want this to be it. I need this to be it." I glance back towards Annabelle and I get a strange feeling of the hypothetical fear. "It's either Annabelle or nobody else."

Devon's far gone by that point, he's busy looking around and identifying things. He then points to the play area and exclaims: "Ball!"

"Alright," I smile and raise him over the fence. "You do you, buddy."

Devon is at first unsure why has he found himself inside of a contraption, and he turns back to look at me, while trying to balance himself on his feet. Then another baby runs by him, trips and falls on his meaty knees, and Devon is both captivated and disgusted by the scene.

The kid probably thinks he could establish a dominion over all the babies here.

Anywho, I'm very soon forgotten when he spots Pearl, Patty and Daniel's daughter, whom he actually quite likes, and he marches away like a little drunk person until he plops down next to her and the building blocks.

I watch him play for a little bit and see how he gets along with other kids, and he just plainly ignores them. Pearl's the only one he acknowledges. When it's clear that he's just fine, I tear my eyes away from all the activities and head over to get Annabelle a glass of lemonade. It doesn't escape me that when I start distancing myself from there and see people around me, that there are at least two women in the group that give me the eyes. The so-hot eyes. The fuck-me eyes.

Ooooh no!

No!

I'm a man of the Lord!

...

But thank you. I know.

I speed up the rhythm to get away from the hungry eyes and luckily run into Daniel right by the lemonade stand.

"Hey, I noticed that Patty and Annabelle've been chatting for quite a bit now," he cheerfully says, probably happy that at least this one birthday is not about me throwing hands with Patty, but just people getting along.

"We both know why that's the case." I make a pause to give him an option to reflect on his wife. "Because Annabelle is a nice person."

Daniel scoffs. "Of course. Patty's like a bulldog in your eyes, isn't she?"

"Yeah, a really pissed off one."

"Are you sure you're not annoyed there's no female drama over you? You've always thrived on that."

Ever since Daniel and Patty tied the knot, and ever since Annabelle's become my constant companion, Daniel has really chilled down about everything and has even taken to cracking jokes on my and Patty's behalf. It's good that that's changed, but also kinda concerning that for so long Daniel thought he was living in my shadow, even when both Patty and I yelled a big and nuclearly explosive No! when we were asked if we ever miss being together.

"I thought that was fun, yeah, but Annabelle's so calm, constructive about everything and stable that now I'd rather shoot myself than have women argue."

"But..." Daniel makes a pause as all sorts of contradictions must cross his mind. "You love chaotic stuff."

I find the lemonade pitcher and pour some of it into a glass. "And I'll cause some if I feel the need to."

In that precise moment, my ear catches a specific sound and immediately isolates it from all the noise.

My mother's voice.

I don't exactly hear what she's saying, but I know she's here, chattering with other people, excitedly calling out different people's names, which mans she must've just arrived.

"You know what," I say and immediately down a glass of the cheapest and shittiest whiskey I've ever tasted. When I almost retch animalistically because it's fucking disgusting, Daniel tries to take the bottle away from me. "It'll do." I glance over my shoulder and see my mother robed like Jesus with a handbag, and I quickly down another.

"But you just-"

"She's worse!"

Daniel glances back as well and then looks at me. "What, our mum?"

"Say it like that again and I won't just retch!" After that, Daniel wisely shuts up. He knows better than to try and convince me that I should be nice to our dear old mother. "Anyway," I take one glass filled with lemonade and another one filled to the brink with that poor excuse for a whiskey. "I'll be with Annabelle. Keep our mother away from me or I will. I'll let you decide which one of us would be nicer about it."

I hear Daniel trying to say something, but I don't care about his sappy yapping, not on this topic, so I dash through a crowd to avoid the whore - yes, capital W - noticing me.

I reach Annabelle in no time and she carefully takes the glass of lemonade into her hands not because it's fragile, but because she's eying me like I'm a rabid cornered animal.

"You heard that, huh?" She takes an absent-minded sip with her lips barely touching the glass. I don't need to ask what does she mean because it's pretty self-explanatory with the way she keeps her eyes on me.

I never told, by the way. The whole begging my mother to at least once show up for me before she left me standing outside bleeding. Annabelle's not aware of any of that. I told her that I spoke to her and that that turned out not in a stellar way, all the details completely left out. I'm not entirely sure why. Some part of me doesn't want her to know what kind of power she had and still has over me, I don't like people thinking or knowing if and how vulnerable I am. I suppose I'm also utterly ashamed of it after being so loud and vocal about hating her. Even more, I'd rather gauge my own eyes out than to inform her of the fact that I did in fact behave like a stuttering little boy desperate for my mother's attention.

"As long as she minds her own damn business," I respond quickly and take a large sip from a very full glass. I have to stiffen a cough. "God, this is foul."

Annabelle smiles very lightly and bumps her shoulder against mine. "Foul enough to keep you from fighting her?"

"Believe me, I've no desire to even breathe the same air as her, even less talk to her." I hiss again at the disinfectant that was packaged in a whiskey bottle. "I don't care if she drops dead right in front of me. In fact," I smile beamingly, which always scares the shit out of her in a conversation like that. "Good riddance."

The look in Annabelle's eyes is a whirlwind of a couple thousand emotions - disdain, concern, sadness, sympathy, distrust, pity, and that's just the first ones that I spot immediately.

I used to think that all of that was directed towards my mother, but with time and with many stories that I've shared with her, I began to suspect that, especially the sympathy, pity and sadness ones, are always meant for me.

"Don't look at me like that," I say and try to look anywhere but at her.

I cannot stand being pitied, I've already reached the most pitiful low when I went to beg my mother for some care and concern for me. She doesn't comment, sigh or make any kind of a sound as if she's testing whether I'm gonna break under the pressure of silence or not.

"It's more than obvious that I've got everything I want," I smile to try and ease the tension. I did not come here to have my mother cause a rift between us. "I've stopped caring about what my mother wants a long time ago."

In the midst of me saying that, Annabelle gives me a reassured smile, and it's when I tear my eyes away from her, that my mother walks by.

She seems to be completely oblivious to our presence at first, but then, like something out of a drama film, our eyes meet and she completely stills in her step. She gazes at me in surprise, while I lose zero sentiment over her. One thing that I can't help myself is compare us, think about just how much I take after her - the cheekbones, the brow arch, the shape of the cupid's bow, and it angers me.

Why are you my mother.

She eventually looks over at Annabelle and the back at me, shining with pride.

Yeah, no thanks to you, you heartless bitch.

Her hand lifts up into a wave, but there's reluctancy in every move, every sway, every twitch of her fingers.

Like it fucking should be.

I take Annabelle's free hand out of fear that she'd try to wave back because if that happened... I don't care how much I care about her, I would leave her on the spot.

As my mother and I are still looking at each other, something feels inherently off. She isn't her old seemingly apologetic self, she's strangely reserved, looking at me longingly like she knows that what she's done to me was her royally screwing up yet another chance. Ladies and gentlemen, the living proof that some people just don't fucking deserve second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh chances - Joanna Price, my mother.

It's with full intention that I stare at her, wanting her to know that I consciously acknowledge her, but not in a way of being broken or afraid of her. I want her to see a specific kind of look in my eye that says: I will never forget what you did to me.

The tension between us is like a telepathic connection because I can almost hear her sad eyes bereft of hope say: I know you won't.

"Are you gonna go talk to her or-?" Annabelle mutters to me, probably confused by the silent exchange.

I can imagine that to her it looks like there's some kind of yearning present, the awkwardness being the only thing holding us back. I'm so glad I'm not Annabelle because this must suck as hell for her.

I lift the glass up to my lips, but say the next thing loud enough for everyone in the eight feet radius to hear me, especially her. "I would rather die."

My eyes never leave my mother's as I take a sip and out of pure wrathful spite suppress how disgusting the drink is.

The telltale twitch in her eye as I say those four words packed with disdain for her is the last thing I see before she turns to head the other way, mingling with the next crowd she runs into as if nothing's passed between us, as if her son didn't just reject her mere seconds ago. Not that me being her son means anything to her.

"You know, instead of cake, I can go ask Patty and Daniel to cut the tension between you two," Annabelle exhales loudky as the moment passes and takes such a large sip of lemonade that I bet she wishes it were at least 70% alcohol.

"Don'tbworry, that was our last interaction for today. I think she got the message."

"Nathan," she pulls on my hand that's still holding hers, which I've learnt is a sign that she'd like to say something as quietly as as privately as possible. "Don't you think that this thing between you and your mother should be addressed? To avoid all of this? To maybe let things go and move on from there?"

I know for a fact that if it weren't Annabelle saying this to me, if it were practically anybody else, I would've gone seriously below the belt, not because I'd have to, but because I could.

Well, Patty, how about you address that you still wish it was me fucking you?

I would've divorced you even sooner if I were Thomas, May.

Daniel, you can't even avoid trying to be me to get Patty to love you.

Me meaning any of it is a whole different topic, except with May, but my purpose would be to hit them where it hurts. I could never bring myself to consciously do that to Annabelle. Consciously, mind you. I sometimes do it completely impulsively, like with the moving in together argument.

"Okay, what if I told you I'd already tried?"

Annabelle stares at me dumbfounded. "What do you mean?"

The slow sigh I let out does not match with all the factory workers in my mind trying to find the right words to say and decide which part should be said and which one kept in the dark. "You know what conversation I told you about? Before I fixed things?"

"You mean, before I took you back and gave you a neon warning sign?"

I lick my teeth as I let her words have their little spotlight. So not how it happened! "You mean when I acknowledged change is necessary is there was anything to come out of it? So, yes, me fixing it?"

She keeps the sideways staring contest going, and a smirk, clearly what she perceives will assure her victory, is slowly appearing in her face. "Oh, after I refused to give in to your selfish whims and humbled you?"

I kiss my teeth in protest as I look around. "Whatever. Changing the narrative over here." Guess what, I still fixed it! I had to fucking beg. Nathan Price doesn't beg anyone, people, e.g. women, beg him!

"No, you just don't like straight up admitting that what you did was wrong."

I look down at her with zero humility present in my voice or manner. "And I fixed it."

Looking at me so suspiciously, as she hides behind taking a sip, I for a second begin to doubt how things happpened between us. With that same look, she could tell me that we met during a paintball match and I'd probably start doubting the truth for a second. Which, by the way! Super unfair! Raw, ugly manipulation is my thing!

"Anyway! I tried and she didn't care. At least not about me." I smile in the this-is-just-wonderful sarcastic way and Annabelle subconsciously switches back to feeling sorry for me, but this time she tries to hide it better.

It's strange how my perspective has shifted. Not much, but it has a little. For the majority of my adult life I existed to spite my mother, to make her life living hell wherever we ended up running into each other. As much as I hated seeing her anywhere, at these birthday parties or Thanksgiving dinners, you name it, I, in a way, relished it. I needed it to thrive even if it came with the price of my peace of mind and my temperament lashing out just at the sight of her.

Annabelle's brought me peace that. With her, one of the biggest concerns I have is that she'll misstep during a dance and break or twist her ankle. She is, as much as I hate to admit it, a pillar of stability. Sure, she cries at commercials when she's on her period, where a puppy is taken in by an older lady who rescues him from living in a trashcan, but that's so timid, nothing a tissue and a hug can't solve.

It pains me to say that sometimes it seems like she needs to be softer with me than with Devon. Well... Softer, as in emotionally. Physically, I'm always down for a rough play.

I'm aware I've not been the easiest to be with, even though I make her both laugh and moan, which I'm still not exactly aware how that's not already enough, but whatever. Apparently, I'm a diva. She fucking called me a J-Lo.

Well... My ass is quite fabulous.

***

Throughout the party it hasn't escaped me that Annabelle's kept a close eye on everything that I did and how I reacted to things. It's not entirely uncalled for, since she's always been on the more observant, calm and collected side, but today, it's like she's unlocked a new skill level with that shit.

When Patty and Daniel told brand new horror infant stories, I could see Annabelle's eyes stopping to rest on me. When Devon cried for the lack of attention and wanted to cling onto Annabelle's chest, I could not miss those incognito happy glances towards me. When other parents, whom I don't care if I ever see again or not, would say how often, if ever, they go on dates and spend time together without their kids running around, I felt something in the air around Annabelle tense up. And when May made a nice cheeky comparison between me and my mother, Annabelle followed my every move.

Lookie, lookie who's got issues now!

In general, she's just not been entirely like herself. Usually, she'd always be happy to try new foods, especially cold cuts and anything that even remotely resembles cold cheeses, but those were now completely off the table for her, as if she's grown resentful towards them simply overnight! She even said no to a slice of Aidan's birthday cake because she didn't feel like ice cream.

In the middle of the Bostonian summer!

I don't fucking know what Patty put in that lemonade, but it seems to be poisoning my girl!

And the worst part? She kept sending me back to get her more of that, but with a twist - more lemon juice. I swear, by the time that she was happy with the mix, the sourness was so beyond the pale that it almost knocked me out when I tried it, and I've been on that god awful whiskey the entire party!

Well, that must've finally messed her up - living as a fruitarian for a day and drinking lemonade acidic as fuck, has finally turned her stomach, and she politely excused herself from the party and left me and Devon alone with Deidre, who came to the party late, as per usual, because of my dad - as per usual.

Things could've definitely been worse!

Deidre's eyes follow Annabelle until she disappears inside the house. "She's been a bit tense today, hasn't she? Are you two alright?"

"We're about as good as we can be." I shrug as I recount everything that's happened today and still can't come up with a simple explanation to what's been up with her.

"Are you sure? Didn't you two have a big falling out right before the tour?"

"Hyeah, but we handled that in such a way that it fits us both. She seems to be very happy about living together five days out of seven per week." When I say that proudly, Deidre gives me a look so pointed that it scares the shit out of me. Who cares if I'm over thirty now, at moments like that, I'm fourteen again. "What?"

"Really, Nathan? Five days out of seven?"

"It's our current arrangement and it seems to be working great, what's the issue here?"

"Is there a particular reason you two are not fully living together yet?"

My instinct tells me that I could be listing things for days to elaborate why the way that we do it is just better for us now, but when Deidre puts me on the spot like that, not a single good reason crosses my mind, except the good old 'she will leave you when you're most vulnerable, you need to keep your distance and teach her a lesson.'

The truth is that... I've really enjoyed living like that with her. I initially thought that living together would make me feel engulfed and trapped, but spending math stuff time on my own and then spending time with her later in the day if we both felt like that has turned out to be very... comforting and warm.

My fear of having Annabelle become overly clingy has become something worse. I am the clingy one! Those two days when she's at her own apartment, which, by the way, I've noticed has lost some decorations that magically appeared at my place, I would always call her and tease her and whisper sweet nothings because I missed having her around. Not necessarily right there in my lap, though I've never complained about that, but just there in my proximity, even if there's a wall separating us.

Deidre smiles slowly when this realisation apparently visibly crosses my mind. "Looks like you're deeper in than you think you are." When I look up in some kind of a distress, because now so many thoughts and fears and desires are colliding like traffic in India, she gives me the same kind of warm reassurance she used to give me as a kid which convinced me that Deidre's simply a better person than my mother. "You two have already done the dance of insecurity around each other, and it's clear how you two feel about each other. You can loosen up and enjoy the ride."

"No, that's all fine," I sigh as I keep my eyes on the interior of the house, waiting for her to come back, as I wrestle with Devon in my arms who's in a desperate need of chaos. "I'm afraid of disappointing her or of having her think that I don't care. I don't know, a lot of things."

"Darling, one look at you two should tell you everything you need to know. You're clearly very happy with her, and I don't know why you refuse to fully open the door to her because it's obvious that you want to."

I look down at the ground and absent-mindedly wrestle with Devon. I don't think I'd ever let anyone talk to me about me and Annabelle, except Deidre. She's the only one in the family that I don't perceive as dangerous or as entirely insane.

"He's settled in quite nicely, I've noticed as well." Deidre tilts her chin in Devon's direction who's adamant on keeping his baby flannel unbuttoned, which makes for an interesting race with me.

How can a baby with no motor skills be so fucking fast!

"There are babies who aren't nearly as happy with their biological parents as he is with you. It shows that you care about him very much. That you both do."

When Deidre smiles reassuringly again, my heart flutters in the forbidden-crush way. It, however, quickly grows heavy as if laced with lead and a heavy drug addiction.

"Is that not the case?" Deidre asks when my silence is not the only thing filling the air between us.

I look up as if waking up from a trance, my eyes even feel murky. "Oh, no, it is. I couldn't see Devon more as my own little demon, and Annabelle's-"

Deidre smiles and cuts in, "Very loving? Even maternal?"

I slowly nod while daring not to look at her. "Yes. All of that. Like she adores Devon, and he's of course crazy for her."

"Out of Ray's kids," Deidre looks in the direction of May and Daniel, one enjoying the party more than the other, and one holding back her bitchy nature from exploding, and then looks back at me, "you've always been the suspicious one. You doubted everything and everyone around you. I remember how you regarded me when Raymond first introduced me to you, like you were scanning me for mistakes. While Daniel decided to let bygones be bygones and May turned-"

"Bitchy. Insufferable. Annoying. Bratty."

Deidre laughs and looks at me from under her lashes like we're sharing a private joke and that I'm simply too charming for this world. Which I just might be. "I was going to say defensive. You, however, are still suspicious of everyone."

As I look around the party and observe people whom I do and don't know, a shiver runs down my spine. A fake smile here, an overcompensated congratulations there, I find it repulsive. Kids are the only ones who's got things figured out, when they don't like someone, they straight up say: you're stupid or push each other into the mud. "Because I can smell their lies from miles away."

At that, Deidre hums as if she's now struck a goldmine. "But you don't smell them on Annabelle, do you?"

Yo, what the fuck!

I want to say something back, and guess what comes back at the perfect time - my fucking stutter. "I-I-I... thhhh-that... no-n-no."

"I struck a nerve with that one, didn't I?"

I swear, only because this is Deidre and the way that she says it is in the understanding sympathetic way, don't I completely lose my shit and tell her to find some new husband to take away from his kids. Even though, I'd probably die for Deidre.

"She has given you no reason to doubt her, Nathan. If anything, she could be doubting you with how casually flirty you are, and yet she's not keeping you at a distance. I imagine she must've already been vulnerable with you and she's genuine in how loving she is. Why do you think Ray would immediately leave me for her if he thought he stood a chance?"

I chuckle at that last part, the little inside joke the family's been enjoying for almost a year now, ever since my dad would stalk Annabelle and begging her to dance with him through the entirety of Patty and Daniel's wedding.

"If he throws you into the bargain, I'd consider it," I look at Deidre from the side, and despite her smile being present, she, like she did whenever I said something improper as a kid, lightly pinches my forearm. "Ow... So unnecessary. Like you're not tempted by that offer."

"What's unnecessary is you doubting Annabelle. I'm sure that if she were not genuine in her ways, something would've popped up by now, don't you think?"

Devon keeps insisting on massacring the buttons, and I quickly distract him by putting a small piece of strawberry in his mouth. Man, if he were Coraline, the other mother would've been the prey, Jesus Christ.

"Deidre, you'd be surprised how all of a sudden people change their nature," I mutter while trying to keep the strawberry in Devon's mouth. He wants to spit it at me!

My step-mother sighs, just realising what's really behind all this. "Ah, I see. You mean your mother?"

"Look, in my defence, and this is not some Freudian shit that I want to sleep with my mother, I'm just saying that... at first, she was a great mum. And all of a sudden..."

My voice trails off not because I can't bring myself to say, but because the image of who my mother was and then became starts to overlap with Annabelle.

"By that logic, I should've at some point turned into a wicked step-mother. Have I?" Deidre looks dead into my soul and keeps that deadly eye contact going. "No, I haven't. Annabelle's given you a thousand and one proof that she's nothing like your mother."

"For now. Look," I sigh heavily because the conversation is beginning to tire me out, and I just loathe talking about this topic in general. "Dad also didn't see it coming. If I drop it all, she'll catch onto that and will know that that would be the perfect time to strike. And I can easily prevent that by keeping her guessing."

"Nathan," Deidre's voice drops to a more serious tone, the kind that makes you feel alarmed because you know you don't want to miss a single thing that she has to say. "Keeping her at arm's length and giving her an occasional taste is not going to work. In fact, that is how you will get her to leave."

There is quite a big part of me that's already aware of all this. It's obvious in the way that Annabelle approaches me with a request that I could take as a sign of things moving too fast, or how she retracts her composure when one of her friends announces that she and her boyfriend are taking the next step. I know that she's annoyed and impatient, but she never let me know how hungry she is for taking things further than what they are like now.

Sooner than later, Annabelle comes out of the house and she looks dreadful. She isn't pale, her face has turned green, and she looks tired and out of breath.

Serves you right with that lemonade.

"Look, darling," Deidre quickly disrupts the silence, like trying to get the last piece of advice in before Annabelle's presence makes this a no-talkie-about-Annabelle zone. "She couldn't be more different from Joanna."

"I know, Deidre. I know all this."

"Then why are you punishing her for what your mother's done?"

Completely involuntarily, I shoot my glance at her as those words shake me up as if I were a baby rattle in Devon's hands.

I don't do that, do I...?

When Deidre turns towards the crowd, I follow her gaze, and we see Annabelle get ambushed by my dad's attention and chit-chat.

Deidre shakes her head, however, a smile is present on her lips. "I better go rescue that poor woman."

I point at my dad with the glass in my hand. "You know, my offer's still standing."

She first laughs and gives me a wink - oh, my poor fragile heart - before making a few steps and turning back to me. "Just listen to your heart, Nathan."

Oh, yeah, easier said than done. My heart's been very nicely wrapped in layers of bubblewrap, until Annabelle showed up with a needle, and now the deflated plastic's hanging on for dear life. What's stopping her for driving the needle through me once she's done with the wrapping? I'll tell you. Nothing!

The part that I hate to admit the most is that Deidre read me like a children's book with nothing but pictures. That easy! My heart's been, let's be honest, doing backflips around Annabelle and has obsessively carved her name into its being. Even with the things toned down, Annabelle's called me kinda possessive and quick to jealousy, which, oh, so sorry that I care about you! But basically, the rationality and fear have been more than welcome because they've been pulling the reins and holding the rabid horse that is my heart back.

As I watch Deidre masterfully redirect my dad's attention away, Annabelle keeps up all her genuine kindness and politeness going, while slowly excusing herself from their company. When dad gets completely unknowingly manipulated, Deidre flashes Annabelle a quick wink. Annabelle smiles back gratefully, and in general, she just seems to be at an incredible ease with my family. The only time that she pulls herself back and doesn't make a single sound is when my mother steps in, which is a very smart move. It's best for the both of us if my mother doesn't become a part of our relationship.

I don't even finish that thought when I get a feeling live I've been shot dead in the chest, and it's all because of what Deidre's said - meddling my mother's sins with what I have with Annabelle.

I see her bounding back towards with the general lightness that's present in her movement, even though it looks like she excused herself earlier only to hurl profusely. Still, when she looks up at me, her face lights up with care and some of that colour returns into her cheeks.

Man... I'm down bad.

When I'm about to return the smile and ask her if she thinks she will live to see another day, a wet gooey splatter hits my jaw, directed at me by a tiny hand that sometimes haunts my dream.

Annabelle laughs promptly as I look at Devon and his tell-tale gooey hand.

"You little-" I mutter as I try to wipe the chewed up piece of strawberry off my face only for him to press his dirty hand on my shirt now, and I am ready to screech.

Devon laughs and then drags his hand across the shirt to really rub that shit in.

"Oh my god," Annabelle manages to utter in the middle of her laughing fit.

I swear, I look at her like the tragedy theatre mask and extend my hands. "Take him!"

At least she listens to me, if he doesn't, and once he finds himself in her arms, he turns into a little angel, while I'm busy drying myself off and picking those stupid little seeds off my clothes.

"I hate to break it to you, Nathan, but you know that the reason why he does that to you is because he sees you doing it to other people?"

"Who?!" Yes. I yell.

"You did it just earlier to May! And you do it to me all the time with freaking popcorn and half-melted chocolate."

"See," I begin, while patting the fabric. "The difference is that then I lick that chocolate off." I unbuttoned my shirt a bit to see how bad it is, and I want to cry. "This is a Lacoste..."

Rocking him in her lap, the baby, of course, wide-eyed and clueless, she smiles. "He only sees that you do that to me and then I laugh. Or you do it to May and somebody else laughs. He's just doing the same thing as his role model."

I look at her exasperated. "Then why's he putting me through all that shit?" Annabelle stays quiet and only presses her lips tightly together to stifle a smile, clearly indicating that I put others through a lot of shit. "Oh, really? That's a load of bull."

"He doesn't do it to me, does he?" She adds a high pitched tone to the last part of the question as he clearly signal the redirection of her attention onto Devon, to which he replies by throwing both his little arms in the air, which basically means: momma hug, and announces that very thing vocally as well. Then she looks back at me when Devon gets his hug, and I'm sure that if I looked at him, I'd get a major side-eye from him telling me that he won this round.

"Yeah, 'cause he's busy doing that to me."

"No, because he looks up to you and learns from everything that you do. I'm just his momma," she says and plants a kiss on a baby cowlick on Devon's head.

I am completely unprepared for what this statement of hers does to me. I mean, one part is that I think it's royally unfair, because I'm always under his attack one hundred percent because he's jealous, which I don't even know if babies can do that. Even if they can't, Devon for sure can. But the other part, that one hit a particular chord in my being, because the first thing that popped into my head completely unaware was: He couldn't ask for a better one.

And as he's all nestled on her shoulder and slowly dozing off, even though kids around us are screaming, people are talking and laughing, and the music is blaring, he is completely serene. My man reaches nirvana just by cuddling with Annabelle. From that sight alone it's clear that he agrees with my pleasant little intrusive thought.

Annabelle notices me staring, and her relaxed small smile, which is always present when it comes to Devon, hides away. "What?"

"Nothing," I smile, but she's not fooled. So fucking unnerving, like I'm not allowed to have a private thought anymore! "No bra. I approve. Private burlesque show later?"

Annabelle rolls her eyes the moments she hears the word bra. "Surprised it took you that long to notice."

"Oh, it didn't," I grin proudly. "Noticed it the moment you walked out of your place." She shakes with her head lightly, like she's sliiightly annoyed, which she might be, but I have a funny suspicion that that's because she knows I said something else instead of what I was actually thinking. "Really, it's nothing."

I pray that she drops the subject. I'd rather not lie to her more than necessary, and I really really don't want to tell her that Deidre shamelessly called out my mummy issues and spared me no judgement, even if she was kind about it.

Annabelle nods, but she's still laced with suspicion, on top of how strangely reserved she's been the entire day.

Naturally, a tiny voice in me is trying to scream at me that this is exactly how one gets hurt which should be avoided at all costs, but whenever I'd see that something about my girl seemed lighter, it was clear to me on all levels that this was the right thing to do. You know, back then when Annabelle wasn't this fucking weird! But like Deidre said... I can't be with Annabelle if I don't trust her. I just don't know how to trust her right now when everything in me is screaming at me that she's gradually detaching from me, and not that she's just in a bad mood.

I don't know. Perhaps... Perhaps I should give Deidre's words more credit and, maybe, perhaps, perchance, even take them into consideration.

Fucking sucks ass.

***

I thought that I have practically won the battle. As happy and delighted as Annabelle seemed to be at the party, it was only for everybody else. There was a certain tension present in her demeanour.

Similar reactions to before clouded her expression, the tone of her voice and distrustful looks. It was as if she was constantly on the lookout and at times I could've sworn she was even avoiding me.

Now, not to be dramatic, but... what... the fuck!

What do I get for going head in with her? I'm here scared to death, reduced to a pile of worries and suspicions, but that doesn't matter. If she wants to fuck with me, I can think of many better ways to do that than to mindfuck me raw!

She spoke a lot to others at the party. Daniel and my father seemed to be the chosen ones, and I don't know which one of them was more pleased about that. Daniel, who is just a sucker for women I like, or my dad, who's long ago stopped trying to hide his admiration. Through it all, something about her was... strange. I don't know how to put it, but this wasn't the Annabelle, it was clear that something was gnawing at her, even if she did an excellent job at hiding it.

Devon was, of course, passed along to different family members because the little devil relished in the attention he got until he finally passed out from excitement and good deeds like the rest of toddlers. I would say that the prime tiring thing for him is mischief because he does it so much, but I think that's his default setting.

I tried to follow Annabelle multiple times because if we're together and attending these things as a couple, then we might as well parade like one!

Well, that didn't work out well for me. In my presence, she was either quiet or didn't give out more than a chuckle or a sigh, not even a giggle. I noticed, though, that when she managed to find an excuse to leave me behind, which she masterfully succeeded every time, the next person she found herself in company with... Let's just say it was a full-on conversation.

Sheer curiosity and stubborness stopped me from completely spiralling. There's got to be a reason for her being like that. She seemed happy when I presented her with my fucking fantastic idea to unite our forces.

That tiny little voice sure did grow like a fucking beanstalk, and my name's Jack because I'm climbing that fucker like it's the fucking Olympics. 

If she was so eager to see things progressing, this sure is an odd way to show it because to me this now looks like she is panicking about something.

You know that moment when the Cupid's arrow pierces your heart? Well, it's the exact opposite that electrifies me dead when the idea of her being sceptical crosses my mind.

This, exactly this is what I've been trying to avoid at all cost, but oh, everyone's been so damn smart, and now look what I've got.

It really seemed as is she put on this show for everyone else to see, even me.

The only time when she seemed to be genuine about her mood and affection was whenever she was with Devon. I know that I've been raving on and on and on about it, but today it's been more apparent than ever before, and as much as I love that about her, something about it felt... melancholic.

There was one time, one time, when my vigilant nature, as Deidre so kindly pointed out, detected a hint of my old bubbly Annabelle, and it was when the three of us were leaving.

Lovely. When the day was drawing to an end, that's when gimpses of Annabelle as I know showed up. I know I've had my fair share of that shitty whiskey, a bottle or two of beer and family drama with encountering my mother, but I'm far from being drunk or so unstable to be more dramatic about it than necessary.

I will say though, when the three nephews tackled me yelling 'This is Sparta!' before climbing into the car and Annabelle's eyes rested softly and lovingly on us, it seemed for a second that everything's fine. And then the terrorising began with the kids chanting how they want to go home with us, and even appealed to Annabelle's kind heart when I didn't budge. Bram stood a bit in the back and admired from afar, and Ewan and Aidan both hugged her, pulled onto her dress hard enough that I wish I were in the right mind to admire and desire her, and looked up at her with big peering begging eyes like starved orphans. She laughed and smile and them that not today, some other time before pretty-pleases rang through the driveway. Even though she was nothing but grace and kindness, when she shot me a tired glare, I knew that her heart wasn't in it. 

I just wish I knew where it was because it didn't seem to be with me either.

It's been gnawing at me little by little the whole day. It's a lot like scaring away a mouse. Over time we all know how they multiply, and just like that I ended up trying to drown out loud noises because I couldn't muzzle the whispers, none of them good.

"Boys!" I yelled and they looked at me stunned before lining up like I was some sort of a military general. "Like Annabelle said - some other time." Their disappointed face turned back to Annabelle, but before any of them could've said anything at all, I repeated the same thing again, just most forcefully. "Some other time."

If Annabelle will even be there for it.

Sadly, my mind's brought me to that point. Her mood and her manner don't change so drastically for no reason, and it's the only thing I've been able to think about on our way home.

I look over at her behind the wheel every so often and initially I always want to smile. She looks so with the seat pushed totally to the front and with her slender fingers holding the black leather of the steering wheel. It's really obvious that it isn't her car because even as she drives it, she gets annoyed why isn't it smaller and more practical. Then my heart sinks immediately because what if the source of this annoyance isn't the car but... me.

Man, I wish I were behind the wheel because then I could at least have to focus in the traffic. Now, all I can do is marinate in this spicy sauce of my thoughts and fears likr a fucking chicken wing.

Even if it means that I'll never put myself back together, gonna give you my heart to break.

My hand flies to the radio of its own accies and silences Kim Petras with a clumsy thump on the screen. I can't put up with some cheeky heartbreak sing.

Annabelle turns to look at me, little Einstein over here sensing that something's off with me now. "What was that all about?"

"Nothing."

Marinate!

Annabelle visibly swallows and then minds her own business, which... why! Since when do we do that? Annabelle!

The ride home lasts for an eternity. I haven't decided yet if that's good or bad because a part of me wants to lose myself in the turns, lights and speed bumps of the traffic, while the other part is anxious to reach my place and make her tell me what's got into her.

And lo, the whisper, a very loud one, makes a great comeback.

Hey, Nathan, remember when you said you want to talk it out with her? Brace yourself for never even having to ask her to move in with you!

All air leaves my lungs and taking a new breath is as painful and tedious as putting clothes on after you've taken a shower and applied moisturiser everywhere. It's sticky and dragging and absolutely overloading.

Oh, oh, oh, by the way! I might know the reason behind it!

I lean against the window so Annabelle cannot see me and I squeeze my eyes shut as if that scrunch will scare all the ghosts away. Maybe in a world where ghosts materialise and chase after you, it would've worked, but I'm being haunted in my mind, what the fuck do I do about that?!

'Nathan, keeping her at arm's length and giving her an occasional taste is not going to work.'

"I'll take Devon," announces Annabelle, which brings me to the present moment and helps me realise that we've arrived home.

She just wants this to be our home. Well... Maybe not anymore.

I stumble my way out of the car, the lack of sufficient air not helping with how downtrodden I feel right now. I'm not even drunk, I'm just afraid.

The ride in the elevator is absolute torture. We ride in complete silence, except for Devon's smacking of his lips in sleep. A few times, Annabelle tilts her head down to his and plants a long feather-like kiss on his forehead.

Why does it look like she's saying goodbye?

Oh god, what if that's precisely what's happening here?

If our eyes meet, we both look away. I've no desire to see resignation written all over her face. For just a few more moments, I want to have this fantasy of us if goodbyes really are in order.

It takes me completely by surprise when halfway, Annabelle takes a step closer to me and leans her head on my shoulder. For a second there I don't want to react until Deidre's words jump in front of me: 'That is how you will get her to leave.'

I use all my willpower to suppress an overwhelming whisper packed with anxiety, and my hand finds itself looking for hers until our finger intertwine.

I know that I might be getting ahead of myself, I don't actually have any proof that her intention is to end what we have, but what else could I assume? You can love someone with your whole heart and leave them because it's for the best.

I look down at us holding hands and I have to swallow a handful. I like the look and the appeal of her French manicure and ring-accessorised fingers in my hand.

I love her, dammit!

I don't want her to give up on me, on us. We did not go through all that shit just for us to call it quits so quickly. I've no desire to bang a different chick every weekend. Sure, I enjoyed it, but it doesn't compare to how it is when I'm with Annabelle. I just want her.

The elevator ping reveals a long hallway before us and something in the air between us changes. Walking down to my apartment feels like I'm on a deathrow without getting my last meal.

I don't want to unlock the door. Things will change immediately.

Before I turn the key and push the door open, I throw a quick glance at my worried girl, who's making me just as concerned.

I mean... This, this fucking door, is the reason why we're here at this point. But surely if she really cared so much about me, she wouldn't have had this sudden change where I'm suddenly just not good enough anymore. Then again... It's been almost a year, and there's something so comforting in knowing that no matter how awful the day may be, she's there when I get home. But it's my home!!!

The door swings open and she mumbles something about putting Devon to bed, and something in her voice cracks.

God, fuck, shit, what the hell are we doing! What the fuck am I doing?!

I run both hands over my face and hope that it'll either bring me some clarity or help me realise that I'm in fact a bit drunk and am just blowing things out of proportion. Neither of my wishes comes true.

I hear a gentle and yet sad lullaby coming from the nursery and I think my heart's gonna tear not in half, but in a million pieces, so I resort to waiting for her in the bedroom after what can barely be called a shower.

I sit on the bed like a pile of misery. It doesn't even matter if I knew the source of her discouragement, my mind's been made that she has decided to leave me. I know that I've got a lot to offer, but man, I know that I've also driven her insane sometimes.

'Just listen to your heart, Nathan.'

My heart, I'm afraid, has almost given up. What could I possibly do if she's already decided our future? I drop my face into my hands as I wait for her to be done with her shower, and I breathe heavily trying to ease my mind and cope with this fucking life. When I hear that the water's stopped running, it all comes back at me with full force.

I don't want her gone. Not a single part of me wants her gone.

The bedroom door opens and Annabelle walks in with wet hair hanging our her shoulders wetting the collar of one my T-shirts that she has stolen from me.

As I see her like that, the hope I thought was gone comes back more stubborn than ever. I like her. I like this. I like us. I want this forever.

Okay... Heart it is.

"Annabelle?" I ask to capture her attention. She's brushing her hair in front of the mirror and she stills when I say her name. "I know something's wrong. Would you please tell me what's the matter?"

I watch her shoulders rise and fall as she breathes until she says with a deadpan tone of voice: "Nothing's the matter. It's been a long and exciting day."

Nothing. It's nothing. It's always nothing with women!

"We both know that that's a load of bull."

She stays silent and climbs onto bed when she's done with her hair. 

"Are you not going to say anything?" 

Again, she stays silent and the panic in me begins to rise at a steady rate. It's always Annabelle who wants to talk things out and find a solution, and now she's the one not saying a single word.

Oh god, I was right, wasn't I? She's made her decision...

As this thought sinks in, my ribcage turns into a junkyard and my heart's the useless broken down car that needs to be crushed into a cube. I'm amazed at how it can't be heard by everyone in Boston because I sure as hell feel it strong enough.

As something in me begins to break beyond repair and as I feel the tears rushing into my eyes, I say like a plea: "Please talk to me."

She sits on the bed facing me, but looking away, and when she still says not a word, I am immediately transported to the time when I begged her to forgive me. Surely I did not fuck this this royally now, did I?

"It's not fair. The thing you're doing right now. I've changed so much and all for you, and you make it look like it still isn't enough."

That's when Annabelle finally speaks up. "Of course it's enough. I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Yeah, for how long? Because this sure as hell isn't very reassuring of your intentions of staying with me." Our eyes meet and I can visibly see pools of tears filling her eyes. I move closer and hold her for both of her shoulders. "Don't you understand I would do anything for you? Is it living together that you want? Fine, screw it, terminate your rental agreement and come here live with me. Because you matter to me."

A tear slides down her cheek. "You don't want that."

"We have practically been living together. I love having you around, you know I love you. Otherwise I wouldn't have done all of these things in the past freaking year!" I lose my breath and struggle to make any coherent sentences from that moment onwards. I do feel my throat closing up as panic and fear throw iron hot chains around me. "Just d-... d-... don't g-ho."

Annabelle shuts her eyes tightly together and both her hands fly up to her face.

God, I'm too late, aren't I?

She then whispers: "I'm not leaving you, Nathan." She then meets my eyes and says: "I think you will."

My eyes grow wide as I contemplate what she's just said to me because she'd have to be selling children into slavery for something like that to happen. "What?"

More big fat tears form in her eyes as she hugs herself and looks down at her crossed legs. "Because you're not ready. And that's fine. Sometimes timing's..." She takes a big sobby inhale and it sounds exactly like something that's been cooking and slowly boiling for a while being set free. "Sometimes timing's not right even if two people really care about each other, and you've been nothing but wonderful. It's why this hurts so much more."

What the fuck is she on about!

"Annabelle, I just asked you to move in with me, what is the issue! I want us together, how many times do I have to tell you that!"

Not gonna lie, her breaking the news to me that she's not leaving me... That's made everything in the world seem possible.

"Because," she then breathes heavily and looks around the bedroom anxiously, her eyes jumping from the closet to the nightstand to the bedframe and to the mattress. "It's not even about moving in together."

Then what!

I keep my eyes on her hoping that this would encourage her to tell me more. What else has been going on between us besides this because I sure as hell don't fucking know anymore.

Annabelle's eyes rest of mine and before she says the following words, tears slide down her cheeks and her eyes seem murky with fear. "I'm pregnant." She looks down at her fingers, and adds: "Found out this morning."

I stare at her in complete shock as everything in the room gets so quiet for me that I can't even hear my own breath or even heartbeat. I know that she breathes heavily only because I can see how her lips tremble at an interval.

"That's what you've been worried about?!"

Annabelle nods slowly and continues: "What was I supposed to think, Nathan? If you don't even want to move in together, why would you be ready to have a child with me. And I really... really want this baby."

When she looks up next, she no longer has the look of a guilty prisoner about her. In that one splis second, it seems like she's panicking about what I'm going to say next.

This really shouldn't have been her reaction...

I know that the majority of people would probably have something else on their minds, but I cannot feel anything else but immense relief. She wasn't going to leave me, I didn't screw it up. It's just a stupid baby!

Oh my god... It's a baby.

As the realisation kind of sinks in, I gotta say... The beanstalk voice doesn't say anything.

"You," I begin and pull her closer as my hands are still resting on her her shoulders, "have no idea how relieved I am."

Annabelle's eyebrows knit together and her tears production stops immediately as she is slowly lowered into my arms. "Huh?"

I wrap my arms tightly around her and with a light heart inhale the fresh scent of her washed hair. When she gets comfortable in the embrace and her shoulders, back and the general manner lose the tension and completely relax, I whisper by hear ear: "There are worse things than having a family with the person you love."

Plus... We already have Devon. It really can't get worse.

She lets out a sound that I can't really identify. I don't know if she's laughing or crying, but all I hope for is that whatever it is comes from a place of happiness.

"And I think that Devon could really use a sibling."

Annabelle smiles and she smiles the correct happy way. It's the bubbly smile, and it's back because of me, and I immediately kiss her because that's the only way that I know things are all good between us.

"Are you really not upset because of it?" She asks as I lay her down on her back and cover her body with mine.

"Annabelle, I thought that you were going to leave me. Trust me, I'm not upset." I plant a kiss on her lips. And then another. And just one more for good measure. "When will you learn that you've got me. There's no turning back now."

"Is that a good or a bad thing," she giggles when I nuzzle her neck and tickle her.

"Why don't you tell me?" You better fucking love me.

She places her palm against my cheek and then slides it up through my hair. "I don't think I've met a man so dedicated to someone before. Definitely makes a woman want to have children with him."

"Mmm, yes, doesn't it just!"

She laughs again and pulls me into a long kiss. As she then tugs on my T-shirt disapprovingly, she says: "That must be a first even for you now, isn't it?"

Being a good obedient boy, I almost tear the shirt off of me because the lady demands to be pleased, and I slowly lift the hem of hers until her abdomen and breasts are exposed, and a strong kind of desire rungs through my veins when I think about her body slowly changing with time. Because of our baby. We will have a baby.

I can't wait for her to start showing...

"Oh, many." Then another thought hits me, and when I grin devilishly, Annabelle eyes me with a mixture of suspicion and excitement. "Because I've also never been with a pregnant woman before. And I heard," I leave a trail of slow and wet kisses around her tummy, slowly travelling upwards where I leave a suckly kiss on her nipple, which makes Annabelle shudder in a good way. "I heard that hormones and pregnant women," Then I climb up her body and press mine tightly against her, to which she responds by immediately shifting her hips to meet mine and by putting her hands on my lower back, pushing me down to her, "make for a very happy Nathan."

Annabelle laughs again, even more heartily now. "I plan to make you absolutely miserable with a taste of your own medicine."

I lift a brow at her and kiss the smile that's playing on her lips. "Oh, I'm counting on it. I love myself a good challenge."

"Don't worry, I'll give you the biggest one yet. Another child."

"Yeeeaaah, but I've got you." I press my forehead against hers and close my eyes for a second as I mentally chop down the beanstalk for good. "And everything seems possible with you."