'I apologise,' Lukasz said in a raised voice, and it was probably the only time the staff at Paxton and Colville had heard his voice match his size. 'I tripped with the vacuum cleaner and it went through one of the office walls. There is broken glass everywhere, and Mr Colville has said no entry to the executive suites until the glass has been completely cleared.' Crisis Chris had said no such thing; he was too busy squirming over his business partner's breakdown, but Lukasz was pragmatic and protective.

'But it sounded dreadful!' Mike said, staring at the giant cleaner in consternation. 'Did you fall through it? Were you not hurt? Why aren't you bleeding?'

'I do have a small cut,' Lukasz ceded, before making eye contact with Mandy. She seemed to understand that she was to do what Moping Mandy did best. She burst into tears.

'Are you alright?' she whimpered, her hands trembling with concern.

'It is only a small cut, but Mr Colville will not risk further injury. You are all to return to your desks.' Mandy sobbed some more.

'You could have died,' she fretted. 'You could have cut your jugular, or your femoral artery. You could have bled to death.'

'But he didn't,' Rob told her.

'But the thought of it,' she sniffled.

'Please,' Lukasz said, 'if you could return to your desks.' He glanced at Mike. 'Could you help Mandy; ensure that she is alright?' And Mike still held a soft-spot for the younger woman, so he nodded with self-importance.

'Of course,' he said, puffing up his chest. 'Everyone, back to your desks. Lukasz has a job to do, Chris has accident reports to complete, and the stress is upsetting Mandy.' And everyone knew how sensitive Mandy was. How a small cry could escalate into a big cry, which could escalate into a flood! They promptly did as they were told; some of them weren't strong swimmers, after all. Through her trembling fingers, Mandy saw Lukasz wink at her. Her lip kicked up at the corner in reply, before she shuddered and said timidly, –

'A vacuum cleaner. Anything could have happened.' Like hoovering, and... more hoovering.

'It's okay,' Mike shushed, too keen on the sound of his own voice to realise that Mandy's tears were not so over-wrought as usual.

'I have sent them back to their desks,' Lukasz told Chris, as he returned to Rafe's office.

'Good,' Chris nodded, pacing about the floor, glass crunching underfoot. Rafe appeared oblivious. His head was still buried in his knees, his arms hugging them to his chest, and although he didn't make a sound, Chris was quite certain that his indefatigable friend was crying. 'Raffey,' he said, halting his pacing in front of him, 'Raffey, what's happened? What's wrong?'

'What's wrong,' Lydia sighed, as she strode into the office with Mattie's wrist clasped tightly in her grasp, 'is that he's had no support from anyone whilst everyone's pandered to Mattie. I'm sorry,' she said, turning to the short P.A., 'but someone needs to say it. You've been through a lot and it affected you greatly, but you're married, and something like that affects both of you. He's had cancer, for God's sake. And you think returning to work is sufficient support? What's wrong with you?' she demanded, as Mattie glanced around in horror.

She hadn't heard the smashing glass. She'd simply been dragged – unceremoniously – from the ladies' bathroom by a rather irate Lydia. And now here she was, looking down at her husband and the carnage that was his office.

'I...' Mattie's mouth gaped wordlessly. She didn't know what was wrong with her. She'd thought grief was wrong with her. She'd thought maybe even some kind of PTSD from finding her father the way she had. She'd thought Rafe was what was wrong with her, but stood in his office, in a cluster of broken glass, with her strong husband reduced to tears – his pride in tatters – she thought that she was probably what was wrong. With herself, and with him.

'Raffey?' she said, approaching him carefully. He didn't answer, so she edged closer, crouching, but careful not to touch the floor, lest she cut herself on the glass and force Chris to complete an accident report form. 'Raffey?' she said softly. 'Talk to me.' His face was hidden. He wouldn't look at them. Wouldn't let them see his tears.

'Jack,' he said at length.

'Jack?' bewildered.

'He left you a voicemail. Thanks for Saturday. He wants to know if you fancy getting dinner this weekend. He'll pay.'

'It wasn't a date,' Mattie told him sympathetically. 'I'd never do that. Never.'

'Not even if you've decided that we're over?' he snorted, without lifting his face.

'No, not even then. I love you. I haven't stopped loving you just because I said we shouldn't be together. I could never want anyone else; not while I love you, and I'm pretty certain that I always will. It's you or no one for me. I thought you knew that?'

'Perhaps we ought to give them some privacy?' Chris said, not wanting to hear emotional words. Not in a work environment. Preferably not ever.

'I will stay,' Lukasz declared. 'I will make sure no one comes, and that he does not hurt himself.'

'You need to get him home. Through the fire escape, so that he has some privacy,' Lydia warned.

'I can disable the alarm,' Lukasz agreed. Chris was horrified.

'Disable the alarm?' he stuttered. 'What if there was a fire?'

'The precise moment that Raffey and Mattie leave through the fire escape?' Lydia asked witheringly.

'Yes!' Chris said, sincerely.

'Don't be a fool.'

'But if we disable the alarm and there's a fire, we'd be sued. We'd be liable. It would be negligent. Possibly even criminal negligence. We could go to prison.'

'Calm down!' Mattie scolded. 'Sit down and take deep breaths. Remember your blood pressure.'

'Right,' he nodded, before shaking his head. 'If we turn off the alarm, we'll have to reconnect it afterwards, and then we'll need to test it to make sure that it's properly reconnected. That it's in full working order. We'll need a fire drill.'

'I can do that,' Lukasz nodded.

'I'll need to get my high-vis tabard,' Chris mused. 'We'll need to get everyone to the muster point. I'll dig out the stopwatch. We may as well time it; check efficiency. I'll get the tabard now.' He paused for a moment in thought. 'Lukasz,' he said, 'you ought to be wearing a tabard anyway, because of the glass. Can you put a row of chairs out blocking the entrance to this corridor?'

'Shall I put tabards on the back of the chairs, too?' Lukasz asked, quite seriously, because he knew that health and safety was no laughing matter. Not to Crisis Chris, anyway.

'Yes!' Chris declared, with obvious relief. 'A row of chairs with high-vis tabards. Wear yours as you do it.'

'Now that we've got that cleared up, can we turn our attention to Raffey?' Lydia demanded. 'Mattie, you need to get your things together – his as well – and you need to take him home.' Mattie nodded.

'Home-home,' she told him, as she crouched close to his ear. 'Not your mum's house.'

Mattie got them a taxi back to their church conversion. It was extortionately priced, but she could always siphon money from the trust funds Aunt Vee had set up for the boys if she needed to. Rafe didn't speak; he merely sat with his face turned away, staring out of the window. She hoped it was because he didn't want the taxi driver to be able to see his red-rimmed eyes in the rear-view mirror of the car, but she feared it was because he didn't want to look at her.

Still, she led him into the house as calmly as she could. She hung up her coat, put away her bag and shoes.

'Shower?' she suggested. He didn't answer. 'Take a shower. Take a moment to yourself, and then we can talk, but I promise you now, Jack is nothing to worry about.'

'Are my things still where I left them?' Rafe asked; his voice thick and strained.

'Of course.' And he found that the house was unchanged. Although he hadn't lived there in more than four months, his possessions still sat about every room. His ownership was still evident. And his pillow was turned on its side, positioned in the middle of the master bed. He assumed she'd hugged it to her in the night. Not necessarily because it was his, but because she liked to cuddle or be cuddled. Because she did not like to sleep in an empty bed. He looked on the scene with tired eyes and dampened emotions, but he was able to note that he was glad she'd run out of time to make the bed that morning, for he'd have missed the evidence of her loneliness if she had.

Mattie hovered about the bedroom, anxiously chewing at her thumb nail as she listened to the sound of the shower coming from their en-suite bathroom. She didn't know what to do. How to fix things. She'd thought that her husband hadn't understood her, that he hadn't cared to understand her, but faced with his raw emotion she realised how wrong she'd been. And the pain she felt at realising she'd inflicted such suffering on him was like being drenched in ice water. It was awakening, as though she'd suddenly come to life; the numbness of grief torn away, leaving her not as indifferent to Rafe's situation – not as reconciled to their situation – as she'd thought.

'Hello,' Mattie said, when he emerged from the bathroom some thirty minutes later. She'd changed into loungewear and she'd perched herself on the foot of the bed, waiting for him apprehensively.

'Hello,' not making eye contact.

'Jack is a dad from school. Charlie's dad; Charlie from Sebastian's class. He's American. Really into talking about feelings and things.'

'Sounds ghastly,' Rafe replied dismissively. Mattie shrugged.

'I thought it was refreshing, but it does grate after a while. His sense of humour leaves a lot to be desired, too.'

'You went out with him on Saturday?'

'For lunch, in a coffee shop full of breastfeeding mums, yes.'

'How many times have you been out with him?'

'Twice. His wife died three years ago. We could relate to each other, I guess, but it was all completely innocent.'

'I can relate to you,' Rafe said suddenly, looking at her sharply. 'Has it ever occurred to you that I can relate to you? You said Rudy helped because of Byron, but I lost my dad when we were estranged, too. I know what it feels like to lose a parent and feel as though you might have made a mistake; that you might have failed them.' He said it sadly, with low, but subdued emotion, but his eyes kindled with his usual passion as his words stoked his temper.

'I could have helped you. I could have held you and loved you and consoled you. I would have understood. I'd have understood your dad and your anger. I'd have done anything for you – I still would – but you just shut me out. You never gave me a chance. Not one. And I let you treat me like that. I let you make me feel like I deserved nothing. Like I was nothing.' His cheeks heated and his voice dropped. 'I should have fought harder for you, but it's difficult when the person you love isn't willing to fight at all.' This last, bitter and accusing.

'When I found him,' Mattie said with a strained voice, her heart thudding with emotion, 'it was...' She closed her eyes, and although she didn't want to, she pictured it; her dad, lying in the living room. The smell. 'It was the worst thing I've ever seen. It was like a horror movie, and I honestly wasn't capable of thinking about anyone or anything else. I just... needed you to go away. I was too upset and too angry to see you.'

'I know, and I understood, but afterwards, –'

'But afterwards,' she interrupted, 'I felt empty. Numb. I didn't feel guilty for sending you away. I didn't miss you. I didn't want you. I didn't really feel anything. I couldn't. Then I found Mum's things and all I felt was pain and regret. Everything was centred on them, and it was only looking after the boys that made me get through each day. It was only them needing me; the responsibility and obligation to keep being a parent. I took no pleasure in them; in our boys.' She looked to him in supplication. 'Don't you see? If I couldn't take pleasure in them, if I didn't miss them or feel a rush of affection when they laughed or smiled, how could I feel that for you, when I still blamed you?' She shrugged, as though it was a rhetorical question.

'Blamed?' he asked, because she'd used the past tense.

'Yes,' she admitted, with a grimace. 'You know I've been seeing a therapist...' She frowned. He nodded. 'We've talked things through – again and again – and I do know that his death had nothing to do with us. I know that I'm ultimately responsible for my own actions, too. I can try to blame you for the fact that I didn't visit him sooner – and I do feel let down by you – but I let your decisions affect my decisions. I might have even used them as an excuse. I don't really know, and I'm not sure I ever will, but I don't blame you for Dad. Not now.'

'But you don't want to be with me!' he said incredulously, and she could only shake her head in denial.

'I want to be with you, I'm just not sure that it's healthy. That our marriage is healthy. Wanting something doesn't make it right.' Rafe turned away from her in disgust.

'Is that supposed to console me?' he asked, with his back to her. 'Soften the blow? It's even worse; telling me that being with me is unhealthy? What must you think of me if you can say that?'

'I know!' she agreed, with rising tension, 'but that's how I've felt. It's been small things – niggles really – but added together... and then Dad, and the cancer – that hurt!' – she said, with tear-filled eyes. 'And you saying you had a "moment" with Lucy. It –'

'You know I didn't mean it like that!' Rafe spat; angry that she could so completely misjudge his love for her.

'I know, but I heard the words, and they got stuck in my head at a time when I was feeling low...' She held out her palms to her sides; helpless, uncertain. 'Everything just made us feel impossible. I felt as though there was no way for us to be together unless you changed.'

'You never gave me the chance to change!' Rafe roared, thumping his chest. 'You treated me like I was disposable. You seemed to take pleasure in hurting me, and I don't understand why,' he told her, his eyes now shining too. 'I've never once tried to hurt you. I've never held a grudge. I know I lose my temper and I know I'm stubborn. I'm difficult, I know it, but I've always apologised. I've always tried. I've always put you before myself. And you...' His voice cracked. A tear slipped from his lashes.

'You hold a grudge. You went to Mum's when I let you go as my P.A. You made me wait a week until you'd see me. You sulked and badgered me about having another baby. You tried to make me feel guilty for having a different opinion. You've accused me of being controlling and dismissive, selfish and inconsiderate for buying this house; for trying to surprise you and give you something I thought you wanted, even though I knew you'd never ask for it. You've said and done things that have hurt me, but I don't care. I forgive them all because I love you. Because I would die for you.' He threw up his hand in defeat. 'You obviously don't love me the same way.'

'You interrupted me,' Mattie said softly. 'I had been about to say that I felt – past tense – as though you needed to change in order for us to work, but after today – seeing how upset you are. Lydia, I suppose and what she said, and this – right here –' Her hand moving between the two of them in gesture to that very conversation – 'I realise that I need to change, too. I need to be honest about my feelings. I need to talk things out so that I can let them go. I need to listen to what you're saying, as well as what you don't say. I just...' She sighed. She didn't know how to express herself. 'You're so strong,' she admitted. 'It's so easy to expect so much from you. To assume too much. To think that you're okay when you're not. It's made me hard on you. It's made me feel as though you don't care, at times. We both need to make changes if we want this to work.' He licked his lips with anticipation.

"We both need to make changes if we want this work". It didn't sound half so final as what she'd said to him two months before. It didn't sound half so hopeless as he'd felt, being nothing to her but her employer. It didn't sound half so wretched as the thought of her having dinner with a man called "Jack".

'Can we...' He stopped. Recomposed himself. 'Shall we... How?' He was strangely inarticulate when he felt he had everything to lose.

'I've been seeing a therapist,' Mattie told him once more. 'I was sceptical, but Rudy recommended him. He's good. He's helped.' Rafe only looked at her in confusion. 'We've not discussed you and me – not beyond my blaming you when Dad died – but he did mention that he knows a very good marriage counsellor.' Her pitch went up at the end of her sentence; her words speculative, and clearly not very confident.

'Okay,' Rafe nodded.

'Okay?'

'Yes.'

'Yes?' He rolled his eyes at her.

'Yes,' he told her. 'Let's do this marriage counselling thing.'

'Really?' she asked doubtfully, because Rafe Paxton was the last man anyone would expect to willingly talk to a stranger about his private life, let alone his feelings.

'Obviously,' he said drolly. 'I said I'd die for you. And although I suspect I'd rather be ten feet under than talk to some pompous Freud-wannabe, I am willing to suffer it. For you.'

'That's sweet,' Mattie said, with a fluttering heart.

'I am sweet.'

'I've always thought you rather salty,' she corrected. He had to suppress a smirk. 'It'll be pick-up, soon. Will you come and get the boys with me?'

'I better had if this Jack bloke's hanging around,' Rafe grumbled, but he felt lighter. Better. She was willing to try. She wanted to try, and that meant she wanted him. Mattie's cheeks flushed.

'I did sort of get the impression on Saturday that he might have thought I was sad and lonely and ripe for the picking.'

'Then I'm doing the school run on my own!' he snapped, before hastily throwing on something flattering (everything was flattering on Rafe), which would make him look a far better catch than Jack.

Jack, it turned out, was a very average man, considering the average male in Britain is slightly overweight. Rafe could barely suppress his excitement upon seeing Charlie's inferior father collect him from school. Still, he did manage to, on account of almost everyone was inferior to Rafe – he really was the epitome of male beauty and he'd aged magnificently, which is to say, hardly at all! – and so he'd had a lot of practice at suppressing his smug pleasure at finding himself to be the most sought-after man in the room.

And he was the most sought-after man in the room, when the room was Sebastian's cloak room, and the inhabitants were a group of harassed mothers who thought the sight of a large, powerful man, gently zipping his son's coat and collecting his bookbag, was the most orgasm-inducing thing they'd seen since they'd conceived their offspring. And it probably was, because they were married to men like Jack, who had pedestrian names and averagely-sized genitalia. They had weak jaws and if they did any exercise – which was doubtful – they neglected leg day.

'You're Seb's dad?' Jack asked, as Charlie wailed about being asked to take off his slippers and put on his outdoor shoes. How old was this kid? He was supposed to be six years old, so surely, he'd learnt by now that no self-respecting male would be seen dead in slippers if they weren't obligatory?

'No, I'm a stranger and I'm abducting him,' Rafe deadpanned. What did the man expect; asking such an inane question? But it turned out Jack was thick.

'Who are you?' he demanded more forcefully.

'Sebastian's father.'

'Are you Mattie's husband?'

'Are you worried that your son's been playing with a little bastard, then?' Rafe asked, paying no heed to his language. One or two of the admiring mothers recoiled at that point. A man couldn't use words like that in front of children. A few discerning others seemed only to salivate further. 'Shall we go and get Isaac?' Rafe asked his son.

'Okay,' Sebastian smiled. 'Are we going to Grammy's?' Because that's where they usually saw their father; at least, since Peter's putrefaction.

'No, we're going home to Mummy.' Rafe turned his head towards Jack. Charlie was still snotting all over his top lip. 'That's Mattie, my wife,' he said. 'And she doesn't want to have dinner with you, either. Maybe aim a little lower next time.'

'There's no need to be rude!' Jack complained indignantly.

'I'm not being rude,' Rafe replied in confusion. 'I'm being perfectly pleasant. I'm giving you helpful advice.'

'Arrogant prick!' Jack muttered, whilst Charlie began chewing on his slipper (what did one expect, when they named their child as though they were naming a dog?).

'Watch your language, please,' Rafe warned with polite authority, prompting a snigger from a mum with a raging libido. Then he turned and left the cloakroom, hand-in-hand with his son. He had a very nice backside, the libidinous woman mused, as she stared at Rafe's retreating figure. When she turned about, it was to find Jack's eyes on her; looking at her in reproof.

'What?' she asked, as Charlie began to roll on the muddy floor. There's a good boy! There's a good boy!

'Can you believe that guy?' Jack scoffed.

'He was rather dreamy,' the mother sighed, before grabbing her daughter's hand. 'Come along, Clementine. The doctor does the school run most afternoons. Let's see if we can spot Doctor Fielding in the playground.' Libidinous.

'Bye Charlie!' Clementine said, waving at her friend.

'Woof!' barked Charlie.

***

'I've made an appointment for Wednesday,' Mattie told Rafe as he cooked dinner for his sons. 'I see my therapist on Thursdays, so I thought Wednesday. I checked your calendar. You should be free, and your mum said she could watch the boys.'

'Alright,' Rafe nodded.

'Are you staying?' Mattie asked, knotting her fingers in agitation.

'For dinner?'

'No. Obviously, you're staying for dinner. I meant tonight.' He sucked in his bottom lip.

'I don't know,' he told her, unsure how he felt; knowing only that his emotions had been in turmoil, but that he felt calmer and more controlled around his sons.

'I thought maybe you and the boys could have a sleepover in our room?' Rafe's eyebrows rose.

'We could, but what about you?' She shrugged casually.

'Boy's time, I think.'

'Okay, and then tomorrow...' He wasn't sure.

'Tomorrow – if you're feeling up to it – we'll drop the boys and head into work. If not, we could go to your Mum's? Spend some time, without it being too intense?' she suggested. Rafe nodded.

'I'll be fine to work,' he told her. 'I need to apologise to Chris.'

'Don't worry about it. I've already spoken to him. Apparently, Lydia laid into him for not being a better friend to you and then she felt sorry for him so she said he could file the incident report for the broken glass himself. She said he could make up anything he liked but he didn't want to lie on an official document, so he said that you were "re-positioning the chair" but "didn't realise your own strength", and the chair "inadvertently collided with the wall and shattered it".'

'That's pretty much how I remember it, too,' Rafe agreed, as he heated some pasta sauce.

'You don't have to pretend. I don't want you to,' Mattie said quietly.

'I know. We'll talk about it on Wednesday, okay?'

'Okay,' she smiled.

*** Author's Note ***

Poor Rafe, but it looks like progress might be on the horizon. Do you think the marriage counselling will go well? I think Rafe will love it!

Who's the hero of this chapter? I'm taking votes for Lukasz or Lydia. You can only vote for one of them. I'm torn. Lukasz is a sweetheart but I so want to be like Lydia when I grow up!

N.B.  I have nothing against the name "Charlie". Rafe does though. Probably because he's been saddled with a name like "Rafferty" and grown up with a cousin called "Rudyard".