UNREQUITED.

Andy waves, to convey how much of a small favor it is. He’s happy to help a friend in need, even it’s something as simple as calling his trainer. Working out and being on the ice has served as great distraction and outlet for him – He knows Nate’s in need one as well. “I’ll give ‘em call, we can do a session together so you can get an idea’a how he runs things.” Andy nods, happy to help where Nate needs it. A brow arches as the man continues, clearly only scratching the surface when it comes to what all is going on. He knows his friend is in the throws of a divorce, but he wasn’t sure of all the details – Clearly, more is going on than Andy knows. God knows he’ll know all the gritty details by the end of filming. “You outta get your own place, somethin’ on the beach.” Andy suggests, nodding. “It’ll be a nice change’a pace.” He tries to remain impartial and decently positive, but he knows that it probably won’t help much just to talk about things. 

Nate was grateful for the little sliver of advice, considering he didn’t get nearly as much time on the beach as he thought he should’ve, really — and he nodded, agreeing with Andy. “I mean, really, it’s all going to be so fucking different. We’ve been married twenty years, man… and like that, it’s gone.” He shook his head, giving their conversation a brief, awkward pause, before he glanced over, nodding with sheepish grimace. “Damn, let’s not talk about this anymore. How are the housewives treatin’ ya?” A smirk replaced his frown, knowing that the man was subjected to constant filming; hell, he supposed they would’ve followed him here, had Nate refused to let them in. Once upon a time, he probably would’ve liked the attention, but now, all he wanted was some good peace and quiet.

      There’s an avanchlance of paper work sprawled across the large table near the back she’d sweet talked a hostess into letting her use by herself. Filming dates, coffee orders, a never ending pile of receipts, an unorganized mess of items the twenty-four year old was expected to file, put away, and send off now that the filming of Real Housewives of Catalina Island first season was nearing it’s end. The sound of her father’s voice is an immediate relief to the young woman’s frazzled nerves. Chocolate hues lifting to meet his with a pathetic look in them, nude painted lips pressed together in an exaggerated pout. “Daddy, help,” Lexie whined unabashingly. Her gaze quickly shifting back to the work before her as her hands gesture vaguely toward the cause of all her stress. “I’m drowning. Tell me you’ve come to save me.”

Nate chuckled, though instinctively, her groan instigated a flood of worry into his system, and he leaned in, frowning at the mess of papers in front of her. “What are they making you do, Lex?” He picked up a receipt — six-hundred dollars for dinner? — and he dropped it, putting his hands up. He’d only briefly heard about the Real Housewives franchise on the island through his daughter and a couple of his other friends, including Andy, whose wife was a star on the show. Frankly, he found it all to be quite ridiculous; I mean, really, there had to be other shit that someone could watch other than watching women tear each other apart. “Good thing I married Maggie, huh?” He started, although immediately, he realized, and he grimaced. “Well, except… you know.” 

With every word, Claire grew annoyed. It was a mild feeling, nothing she wasn’t used to feeling around the Island and her friends. But there is something about a grown man’s naivete that makes her count her lucky stars for marrying who she did, and not a second too late. But as any professional, she kept her annoyance tucked inside, her words showing nothing but concern. She was his confidante, and adviser after all. “Getting divorced is not easy. Dividing up assets, changing your life around….not to mention the emotional grieving one does at the end of a relationship, it’s really not easy. What’s really bothering you, Nate?” Because surely, Claire hoped, she wasn’t dealing with a man child.

Truthfully, the daily chores and mundane aspects of adult life were only a cover for what he was feeling underneath — the fear of being alone, after so many years. Maggie was all that he knew, even through all of his mistakes and transgressions he made throughout their marriage. They had kids, for Christ’s sake, ones that he loved with all his heart and would protect to the ends of the earth, and to him, it felt impossible that something so wonderful could come out of a union that was fraying at the seams, held together by a single thread. But then again, that was precisely why he went down without a fight. Maggie always had the last word, and he was just… there, to look good. When he finally opened his mouth to speak, his voice cracked, just in the slightest bit. Thank god Claire didn’t let those rabid cameras into his home. “I guess I’m afraid that things are going to be different. She’s all I’ve ever known, you know? I mean… same with you and Topher, right?” 

SAFIYA TORRES:

Safiya was more than ready to ignore Miles’s snide comments; she was hoping that whatever she had done to piss him off could stay at the workplace, and not when they met outside of Iris and Eve, and the context of their jobs. She watched the new man take his place at the table, whispering to Miles before turning to her. “You must be the Nate Miles couldn’t stop raving about. I’m Safiya!” Smiles brighter than a bulb, she reached out to shake the hand Nate had offered. “Oh, I wish I could stop. He’s my boss at work, and apparently when we go out as well. Anyways…” She wasn’t in the mood to talk about work when there was friends to be made, connections to be had. “How is it going, gentlemen?”  

Miles was about to give Safiya a piece of the honesty pie and just tell her what was bothering him. He knows Jason’s choices and she’s the textbook side piece, as far as Miles can tell. He hates the fact that she lives like she hasn’t done anything wrong, and while a part of him feels good about the vindication in his ever present campaign against Jason Rhodes, he hates that she caused his Ma pain. But Nate returns to the table, and Miles can’t do much but roll his eyes and remind Nate that he wasn’t into the other employees at his workplace. “Be careful, dude…” But it could have come across as straight up jealousy and an inability to share his best friend with someone else. But watching the two of them flirt, it almost made him sick and he decided to just….sit there, and witness a car crash in slow motion. “Like I said, could have been better. Since you’re here, you might as well order. Nate’s paying.” Okay fine, he wasn’t entirely made of stone, and maybe if Safiya’s wandering eyes could find someone who wasn’t his pseudo father, the better. 

“Oh man, dude — you know I don’t pay for the first date,” he groaned, mostly at Miles — at Safiya, he flashed a quick unsuspecting grin, pulling out his wallet. “Anyways, only a matter of time before… well, you-know-who cuts me off,” he muttered, sighing. Unlike other men, Nate didn’t mind being second best to his wife. It just meant he could be as lazy as he wanted to without any repercussions, really. “Bro, don’t be like that… I’ll always pay for you, man.” He patted Miles on the shoulder, nodding. The guy was hands-down his best friend, and though it didn’t seem like it, he would never risk his friendship with him for some silly girl who would be gone within the week anyways. 

More than two decades. Surely that’s accomplishment enough, and when Maggie’s social circles inevitably get ahold of the news that she’ll soon be part of the other half of the population that hasn’t made their marriage work, she’ll draw her strength upon that considerably long time frame, and the memories they’ve shared together, none of which was terribly bad —

— but to reminisce about their time together also casts a shadow of doubt, evident by the way her hands have begun to shake, ever so slightly. Is it worth it? To trade something good, and admittedly, something beautiful for a wide unknown, to drown herself in sea of uncertainty even as she sees no horizon? 

“It’s…” She swallows, then, the earlier confidence in her voice faltering as she holds out the documents, the proverbial period to end all things, “it’s easier to show you.” 

Contrary to popular belief, Nate isn’t dumb — well, he is, but only in the sense that as soon as he had his high school diploma in hand, he’d moved out to the city proper with star-studded horizons in mind. That hadn’t worked out perfectly, but he has a good life here with Maggie. Hell, he didn’t need to be smart to be photogenic, but at the very least he knows how to read a room. And currently all the air in their space has been sapped clean of serenity, and Nate feels his spine prickle.

The papers, neatly packed into a manila folder, says it all. He hurries over, grabbing the folder from her hands and just as he suspects — a jumble of legal jargon, but hidden between the complicated strings of letters is the word divorce — and he pulls his hand down, papers falling to his side, a stoic expression, save for the sadness hidden in his pupils, replacing his earlier smile. “So. This is what you want, huh?” Nate lifted the papers up, attempting to meet her eye, to search for that hint of regret he so desperately needed. “Tell me this is what you want, and... I’ll sign.”  

“Ridiculous. I’ve never met a guy with pecs like yours, after all.” Lourdes was probably laying it on thick, but she couldn’t help it. The need to get laid was trumping all senses of honesty and goodness, and she was weak for a shirtless specimen. “I mean, you’re totally hot down…here…” She gestured to his chest, “but your face, dude…I just really wanna kiss it, you know?” 

“Hey, you’re not so bad yourself,” Nate teased, giving her a bright smile. He couldn’t remember when he started seeing Lourdes around, but he liked her enough — it was hard for Nate to dislike someone, he was so easygoing; but most other girls had an insecurity about them that made them less attractive. “Right — how old are you again?” 

Andy’s trying to be a supportive friend to Nathan while he navigates this divorce – But then he says shit like this. On one hand, he gets it. The other man is so distracted by what’s going on that it’s starting to mess with his daily routine. “You outta hit the gym twice as hard, man.” He suggests, nodding as he speaks. “It’ll help you clear your head, get you back on track.” Andy continues, knowing that whenever he’s stressed – A good workout helps him relax, work through whatever’s bothering him. “I can call up my trainer, see if he’s got any time? That guy’s a fuckin’ beast, I swear he’s what got me to the damn Olympics, man.”

“Dude, are you serious? That’d be amazing,” he replied, always a tiny bit incredulous that people were nice to him. Not that he didn’t deserve it, but he made his way through life not expecting much, so he was always pleasantly surprised when people offered him favors. But after a brief second, he buried his face into his palms again, groaning. “Shit. Have to find a place to live, too. I mean, she hasn’t kicked me out yet…” Nate glanced over at his friend, grimacing. “Only a matter of time, right?”   

Claire isn’t sure what annoys her more at the moment; Nathan’s immaturity, or the can of LaCroix in his hand. She didn’t get the appeal of sparkling water, flavourless and a farce packaged in colours. But she decides it’s the immaturity, and bites the question back; who the hell would say yes to marrying you? But Nathan was a friend, and most importantly, seeking her legal counsel. “Well, if your spouse decides she wants to stake a claim in your…video game collection, I suppose you two will have to split it. But I have a feeling she’ll be coming for your money, more than those. I do hope, for your sake, you two signed a prenup?” 

“Ohhh, I don’t know — Marg handled all that shit when we got married. I was like, twenty-four. She also helped me file my taxes that year, ‘cause I had no idea how to do them. Or she hired someone to do ‘em for me. Can’t remember. Shit — how am I going to do my taxes this year?” Nate groaned, putting his face into his hands. “Getting divorced is a huge bummer.” 

“Good idea in theory, horrible execution in location.I don’t think it would be a hot ticket item, because Panera does that with soups.” Christian was nothing if not a straight shooter, but he felt bad about being too straight with his friend. “But you’re right, you really can’t beat that, and please…don’t spend a million dollars on that.”

“Wait, dude, why the hell not?” Nate asked, forehead furrowed. “Yeah, Panera does bread bowls, but I’m talking about a crouton bowl. That’s like, totally freakin’ different.” He shook his head, a bit incredulous that his friend wasn’t supporting his entrepreneurial endeavors.

“Kinda worse since….” Miles paused as Safiya sat down, trying to wretch at the overpowering scent of whatever perfume she had decided to torture everyone else around here with, “….you sat down with us.” He wasn’t looking for company, and his friend had literally just gone to take a shit when the girl occupied his free seat. “You plan on staying here for too long, Torres? Don’t make yourself comfortable, Nate’s coming over soon.” 

Walking back to his table from the bathroom, Nate spotted Miles at the table with someone he didn’t recognize, and he plopped back down, turning to whisper to his friend. “What the hell, man — don’t hog the women for yourself!” And whipping his head back around, award-winning smile back on his face, he extended a hand. “Nate. Don’t pay any attention to this guy, he’s an idiot.” 

“Man, be glad your wife loves you, and you’re not going through a divorce...” Nate trailed off, shaking his head, sighing. “I’m so stressed out that I forgot to go the gym. That’s like, insane levels of stress right there, my man.” 

tagging | @nathanhaverford​

“Okay no lie, but you’re actually ridiculously adorable. I don’t know how you do it, but I’m…I’m hooked, baby boy.” 

“Huh?” Lying in bed, Nate glanced over at the woman, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “Oh — yeah, I have that effect on women,” he replied, shrugging. “I think it’s my pecs. Or maybe it’s my biceps? Well, actually, that’s what makes me hot… adorable, though, that’s a new one.”

“You doin’ all right?”

It’s the first thing that comes out of his mouth when he sits down across from his adopted daughter. Nate, despite all of his misgivings, never neglected his duties as a father. The countless visits to the hospital, chemotherapy sessions and hospitalizations for minor setbacks — he was there through it all, and now, sitting before him was a strong, beautiful, capable woman, and suffice to say, Nate was proud. But still, he worried about the girl and his gut reaction was to double-check that everything was okay, that everything would be okay for his little girl.

INT. CHEN RESIDENCE, CATALINA ISLAND. NIGHT. 

Maggie’s nervous. It’s an odd feeling. It’s odder, still, to note that this is one of the few instances that she’s felt as such around his presence. 

Being married to Nate was — is, she corrects herself — easy, and she’s yet to figure out whether that’s a good or a bad thing. They’ve survived this long, at the very least, and more than two decades together seems like a good enough run. Certainly not worth scoffing at, as her parents had done in her and Nate’s tenth-, fifteenth-, and twenty-year anniversaries, still holding their breaths and waiting for everything to fail spectacularly. 

She doesn’t want to give them the satisfaction of being right. 

Instead of allowing it to crash and burn, she establishes the setting of a slow simmer: of her, seated at the couch on the foot of their bed; the papers, heavy and weightless all at once, sitting on the table beside it. Slow and steady, just as they are, and may never be again.

“Hey,” begins Maggie as he enters, cracking a small smile as she jokes lamely, “fancy seeing you here.” ( @nathanhaverford​ )

There is a hint of something wicked in the air, and Nate doesn’t like it.

Four beers in him, and he can still feel the tension in the air, like a heaviness that signaled when it was about to rain, sucking all of the oxygen from the space like a slowly deflating balloon, shrinking, until there was nothing left but the remains of stretched-out rubber. It’s what gets him reaching for the fifth beer, though he tried not to drink too much these days, but today (and the entire month, really), had called for it.

When he hears Margaret call out, he stops in his tracks, right in front of their bedroom, furrowing his brow as he nods. “Hey, sweetheart,” he responds, leaning against the threshold, half-tense, half-jittery from the demeanor of the woman sitting before him. “What’s up?”

“Well, I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge, so hit me with your best shot. C’mon…” 

“Okay, hear me out... a huge crouton bowl that you serve salad in ...” Nate raised his brow, waiting for the other to react. “How’s that for a million-dollar idea? You can’t beat that.”