Thank you to Mickey, Sunny, Natalie, Em, Andy Panddy, Jen, stephoc, JenJenxx, Fighting-this-War, kandylover, Ally, Cynthia, Lauren, Ansy Pansy and Kylie for your reviews of the last chapter. I'm determined to finish this fic before season 3 starts, so hopefully the next update should come quickly!

The Return of the Nana

"Pack your bags, we're going to Miami," Sandy declared and he stalked out of the kitchen.

Kirsten shot Ryan an amused look, as he sat looking baffled at the kitchen island, and shuffled out the kitchen after Sandy. She caught up with him in the bedroom where he had already started pulling clothes for the trip. Shirts, t-shirts and trousers came flying out of the closet and Kirsten ducked past the door as she settled on the bed, her legs crossed and her coffee mug nestle in her hands.

"So who is the unfortunate man?"

"His name's Bobby."

"Where's he from?"

"I don't know."

"Where did she meet him?"

"I don't know."

"Well, what does he do?"

"I don't know."

"Has he been married before?"

"I don't know."

Kirsten rolled her eyes. It was typical of a man not to get the essential gossip straight away.

"Look, you can ask my mom all those questions when we get there," Sandy said, exasperated by all the questions.

Kirsten's heart sank. A weekend with Sophie Cohen? Oy.

"Actually…" Kirsten paused as Sandy's head appeared from the closet. He didn't like what he heard in her tone.

Kirsten felt guilt tear through her as he looked at her expectantly, but she couldn't pretend. She didn't want to go.

"I don't think I can come this weekend," she finished. She saw the mixture of surprise and sadness in his face. "I'm sorry, but I've got work to do, plus there's the magazine. It's just a busy weekend."

It was a lie. The next edition of Newport Living had already been sent to the printers and she had cleared the pile of work that sat on her desk.

The thought of spending the weekend under the glare of the Nana made Kirsten shudder. She would see immediately that things weren't right between her son and his wife, and Kirsten could only imagine the pleasure she would take from it. There were also the usual snide comments that she would be on the receiving end of, which Kirsten was just too exhausted to take right now.

Miami offered a weekend of awkwardness and pretence, just like every day at home. Newport offered peace and quiet, her own bed and no mother-in-law. It also offered Carter and Kirsten realised that she would rather spend the weekend working with Carter than in Miami with Sandy.

"Are you sure?" Sandy's pleading voice interrupted her thoughts. "I really want you to come."

Kirsten felt even more guilty as she shook her head remorsefully.

"I'm sorry," she said again.

Sandy nodded, accepting her excuse, but he wasn't sure how much he believed her. He knew that she was busier than ever at work, especially with the magazine, but he saw the reluctance in her face and wondered how much it had to do with work and how much it had to do with him.

Sandy had hoped that a weekend away from Newport would help them, that it was what they needed to get them back on track; but he knew that he would be distracted for most of the weekend by his mother and her new fiancé. He guessed that Kirsten was also reluctant to spend the weekend with his mother given their tempestuous relationship.

"Maybe, next weekend, me and you could take a trip somewhere? When you're less busy," Sandy suggested hopefully.

Kirsten smiled awkwardly. If there was anything she wanted less than a weekend with the Nana, it was a weekend alone with Sandy, when there would be no opportunity to escape the inevitable conversation about them…about what was going wrong.

Because there was something wrong.

"Sure," Kirsten agreed eventually.

Sandy disappeared back into the closet, apparently satisfied with her answer. On either side of the closet door, Sandy and Kirsten let out identical sighs, both exhausted from the effort that it took to have a normal conversation these days. It felt like they were stuck – stuck in a maze of deceit and pretence, with no idea how to get out.

Kirsten hung her head as the vodka seeped into her blood quickly. She smiled slightly to herself. Vodka worked so much faster than wine. She reached for the bottle, which was already half empty, and poured herself another glass.

One more glass wouldn't hurt, would it?

Who would care anyway?

She was alone. Physically, mentally – it didn't matter. She was alone. She had watched someone else walk out of her life tonight; someone else had left her.

Was it her? Did she keep doing something to deserve it?

First it was Ryan, going back to Chino to be with Teresa and the baby; then Seth, running away from the home that she had tried so hard to build for him; and then Sandy, the one person she trusted most in the world, had left her too.

Now Carter was gone – the person who made her feel less alone, the person who made each day bearable.

She ran her fingers over her chin which was still tingling from the bristles of his beard that had felt coarse against her soft skin. She smiled ruefully, remembering the time she had teased him that no woman would want to kiss him with that beard. Carter had argued that it made him look more manly and Kirsten had laughed. He had refused to shave after that just to make his point.

She had kissed another man tonight. Another man who wasn't her husband. She hated herself for it. She had never wanted to be that person – the person her dad had been when he'd had an affair; the person Sandy had become when Rebecca was around.

But she couldn't deny that she hadn't wanted it. Wasn't that the reason she had stayed home instead of going to Miami? As soon as the boys had left, she had called the office craving company – craving his company. She had been excited by the prospect of spending the weekend working with him.

When he dropped the bombshell that he was leaving, she had pretended to be happy for him – of course she was – but, selfishly, she was disappointed too. She didn't want him to leave; she didn't want him to leave her.

She looked around the kitchen at the effort she had made to entertain him – the catered food that she had pretended to cook herself, the candles, the wine. Her eyes struggled to focus, blurred by the alcohol, as they rested on a wine bottle. She remembered the way her body had trembled when his hand had touched hers, helping her open the bottle. No man had made her react like that since Sandy. She had looked down at their hands, but the truth had reflected up at them – reflected off the three rings she wore on the third finger of her left hand. Her wedding rings; the rings that tied her to Sandy.

Carter had told her tonight that he had almost turned down his new job because of her. But deep down, both of them had known that this was the end; that it wouldn't – and couldn't – go any further than the single kiss they shared.

Kirsten ran her fingers lightly over her lips, allowing herself to reminisce until the shrill of the telephone interrupted her thoughts. She turned, stumbling over her own feet in a drunken haze. The glass slipped from her hand and smashed on the floor. The answer-machine came on and Kirsten heard her own voice echo across the kitchen. She waited, listening for a message. Sandy's voice came through the speaker.

"Kirsten? It's me. I was just calling to check in, make sure you're ok on your own…"

Kirsten frowned. She was always on her own, why should this weekend be any different?

"…Things with my mom didn't go so well. Turns out Bobby was more interested in her savings. But she's ok, I think…"

Kirsten smiled cruelly. So even the Nana was losing her touch?

"…Anyway, I should go. I just wanted to talk, that's all. I…I miss you, I wish you were here. Call me when you get home, let me know you're ok. I love you."

Kirsten grimaced when she heard those words. He loved her. He missed her. He needed her, and she wasn't there. She reached for the phone quickly to catch him before he hung up.

"Sandy?"

She only heard the dial tone.

Leaning against the island, Kirsten felt tears pricking up in her eyes and they started to fall down her cheeks. She shook them off, rubbing her cheeks roughly.

No, she wasn't going to cry for them. They had all left her, in one way or another. She looked around her at the messy kitchen – the dirty dishes, the unwashed plates, the broken glass. The only thing Kirsten saw was emptiness.

She stood up straight and walked across the kitchen, ignoring the mess and blocking out the emptiness.

She opened the cupboard and reached for another glass.