As if he can feel my presence, he turns and stares at me. His eyes soften a touch, but face-on I can see something is wrong. He’s most definitely upset. He waves and I lift my hand, lamely waving back. Macy turns and her eyes widen and a huge grin appears on her face. She starts talking quickly, waving her little hand. I can’t hear a word she’s saying because I’m outside, but whatever it is has a small smile appearing on Nate’s face. He crooks his finger, encouraging me in. I hesitate. I’m not sure it’s the best idea but he looks troubled, and I’m not the kind of person who can just walk away.
So I walk around the corner, pull the door open and walk over to their booth. Macy leaps out of her chair and rushes over, throwing herself at me. Her tiny arms wrap around my legs. I smile and ruffle her hair. “Hey beautiful girl,” I say.
“Hi Avie!”
She takes my hand and pulls me over to Nate. He smiles at me, but it’s not all there. His eyes are angry and his face is tired.
“Hey Dancer,” he says, his voice lacking emotion.
“Hey,” I say, sitting down.
He looks at me and I hold his gaze, hopefully showing the concern for him in mine.
“Daddy let me come to dinner. I was trying to make some for him because Mommy was sleeping. I did the washing up all on my own.”
I tilt my head and keep my eyes contacted with Nate’s for a long moment. Did something happen at home? Is that why he’s upset?
“You’re a very big girl,” I say, turning to Macy, “doing the washing up all on your own.”
She smiles brightly. “Daddy is going to get me ice cream.”
“You know,” I say, “there’s a really great ice cream place just around the corner. Would you like to go?”
“Do they have strawberry?”
“They certainly do.”
“Yippee!”
I turn to Nate. “Want to take a walk?”
He nods stiffly and stands. Macy runs out the door and we follow her quickly. I take her hand when she reaches the road.
“Make sure you don’t cross without a grown-up,” I say to her. “We wouldn’t want you to get squashed. Look left and right.”
She smiles up at me and does as I ask. I catch a glimpse of Nate, who is giving me a soft, warm expression. His anger seems to have vanished, but his troubled expression remains. We cross the road to a large, gorgeous park. It’s alight with lanterns that run down the long, stone path. We begin down that path to the ice cream parlor near my apartment. Macy runs ahead, picking all the flowers she passes.
“You okay?” I ask Nate as we walk.
“Yeah,” he mutters.
I don’t want to push—I don’t know him well enough.
“Okay,” I whisper.
He sighs and then says, “She was passed out.”
I look at him out of the corner of my eye. “Your wife?”
“Yeah. Macy was in the kitchen, at the sink, washing. She had a knife in her hand, Avery. A fuckin’ knife. She was trying to make me dinner because her mother was out cold.”
Oh God. My heart aches for him. I can’t imagine how scared he must have felt.
“I’m sorry,” I say, not knowing what else there is to add.
“She’s been drinking lately. I feel like it’s my fault.”
“How so?” I ask, keeping my eye on Macy.
“I’m away a lot. She always has Macy, never having a break. Have I driven her to this?”
I think about my answer, not wanting to insult his wife but at the same time wanting to make him feel better.
“You’re providing for your family. I’m not saying it’s easy; I’ve not been your wife or lived your life, but the way I see it . . . when you choose to have a child, you understand that your world will change. Kids are full on—perhaps she could look into finding a carer a few days a week? Maybe that will help her catch up?”
He shakes his head. “Maybe. I don’t know. She doesn’t seem to be coping and I can’t help but wonder if it’s my fault.”
“Have you spoken to her about it?”
“No,” he says, rubbing a hand over his face. “We just end up in a fight. I get mad at her. I was so fucking mad tonight, I stormed out with Macy.”
“It was probably for the best,” I say gently. “It will give you time to cool down.”
“I was hard, Dancer. I put my hands on her and it was rough.”
I swallow and stop, turning to him. “Did you hurt her?”
“No, but . . .”
I take his hand, feeling the rough skin on his palms graze against mine. “Then you can’t blame yourself. You made a mistake, yes, but you walked out and stopped it. If you keep blaming yourself, you won’t find the root of the problem and you won’t be able to fix it.”
His eyes scan my face and they warm. “I’m sure I met you for a reason.”
I laugh softly. “To give you advice?”
He grins, but his eyes are dead serious. “No. To give me a friend. I really need a friend, Dancer.”
My heart melts and emotions flood my body. “Well,” I whisper, “I’m glad I have a friend too.”
We’re staring at each other. Really staring. My body is aware of him, my heart is turning to liquid and I feel the need to step back. I shouldn’t be so close. Shouldn’t be building a relationship with him so quickly. Friendship should be done slowly, yet with us it seems to come effortlessly.