13 months after

It had been over a year.

More than twelve months since their lives had been inexplicably changed forever. Phil couldn't quite believe it, often finding himself double checking the date on the kitchen calendar, unsure as to how so many weeks had passed by since he'd lost his other half.

He hoped Audrey would be proud of how he was raising their daughter.

Things still weren't easy, and he had a feeling they wouldn't be for several more years, but at least now he was able to sometimes go about his day without concern, the routine he and Lola had together working some consistency and continuity into his life.

He'd tried to tell himself for a long time that he was fine, and he could deal with this on his own, but after breaking down on Christmas Day, and then doing the same thing at New Year as well, Phil had finally taken the courage to call the number on the business card Maria had handed to him at their mother's house, the previous winter.

Sam Wilson. Counsellor.

It had taken Phil several attempts to dial the full number printed alongside the guy's name, hanging up each time he reached the eighth digit, but finally he completed the call, and as he made an appointment with a secretary on the other end of the line for late February, he knew deep inside that this was going to be a good thing for him.

He hadn't been sure what to expect when he'd taken the drive out of state to go to his first session, leaving Lola for the afternoon with the lovely elderly lady next door, who had been helping out more frequently now that Phil had returned to work two days a week - that had been a necessity, the finances slowly reducing as he stayed at home with Lola full time over the past year.

Phil had heard about these therapy sessions, seen clips on television and in film, but when he arrived at the centre, sweaty palms shoved in pockets, he'd been pleasantly surprised. Even more so when he met Sam Wilson himself.

After spending so long expecting a serious professor wearing potentially a suit, or even a long white lab coat, Sam had been almost the opposite: a youngish guy wearing a t-shirt and jeans, casually talking to the group in an informal friendly yet supportive manner, that left everybody in the room feeling at ease.

Phil spoke with him one-on-one afterwards, thanking him for his words of encouragement and comfort, and Sam had replied with a shake of the head, promising Phil he was welcome to as many sessions as he wanted, at a discount rate for being friends with Steve.

He took him up on his offer, and attended another five session over the following three months.

And whilst his heart wasn't healed, Phil was pretty sure the broken pieces were beginning to find their way back together.

"Dada!"

Lola toddled across the garden towards him, her little white shoes trampling the freshly cut lawn, and Phil's face lit up in a beaming smile.

He could hardly believe his baby girl was both walking and almost talking.

She was growing up so quickly.

When she'd said her first proper word, way back in January, Phil had honestly teared up. The fact she spoke his name had made the moment even more special, and he'd held his little girl close whilst she rambled on about nonsense and incomprehensible babbling, with the occasional use of the word "Dada!" thrown in.

Now she could say a few more, like "bottle", and "book", and "'ragon" (which was usually directed at the bright red dragon toy she now slept with each night religiously), but stringing together sentences that made sense was still yet to come.

He was half excited for her beginning to talk properly, knowing they would soon be able to have full conversations with one another about everything and anything, but at the same time, it scared him how fast she was growing, and that one day she would no longer be a tiny baby, no longer able to stay hidden from the traumas he knew he'd have to tell her about one day.

Phil swept her up into his arms as she reached him, pressing an abundance of kisses to her head, resulting in high pitched squealing from her, and a lot of wriggling around trying to escape his grasp.

"Well done Lo" he grinned, placing her onto his hip, walking them both over to where the buffet of party food was spread across a long wooden bench. "Soon you'll be running marathons."

He stopped in front of the table, scanning the huge - and totally over the top - array of food his mother had prepared for the afternoon, especially considering there were only a few guests present.

"Phillip" Anne had told him, when he'd hurriedly assured her she did not need to make so much effort for just one day. "It is your thirtieth birthday, and we are having a party to celebrate. And at a party, you have food."

There was no arguing with his mother when she had made her mind up about something; it was a trait Maria had inherited more so than himself.

So, as his eyes scanned the insane array of various freshly-made sandwiches, mini golden quiches, bowls of crisps in every flavour, and tiny bitesize pastries, Phil shook his head, reaching out and taking a paper plate off the stack to the side, and handing it to Lola.

"What do you want Lo?" he asked quietly, eyes fixating on the glass bowl of bright scarlet tomatoes, and knowing she was going to point at them first.

He was right.

With a grin, he leaned over, taking a small handful of the fruit and adding them onto the plate his daughter was holding, watching as the small red globes rolled around the edges, threatening to fall to the floor.

A few sticks of bright orange carrot followed, alongside the green of sliced cucumber, and he finished the plate off with a small triangle of cheese sandwich, as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Happy Birthday big brother" Maria grinned, nudging him with her elbow as she grabbed her own plate from the stack, proceeding to fill it with an array of unhealthy options that Phil was pretty sure were about 99% sugar. "How does it feel to be old?"

"I'm not old" he groaned, shaking his head at her with a glare, as he caught a stray piece of carrot that dropped from Lola's plate. "Don't make me feel old."

"Sorry" she shrugged, popping a chunk of sausage roll into her mouth, and holding out a second for Lola to grab. "But you are."

Phil glared at his sister, half tempted to throw the piece of carrot at her that he currently had hold of, before resisting, and glancing behind her, watching Steve chatting away with Anne, the two of them laughing at some joke he seemed to have told.

"How's Steve?" he asked, flicking his attention back to Maria, who was now teasing Lola with half a chocolate finger. "You both still happy?"

"Yeah," she smiled, tucking a strand of Lola's fair hair behind her ear as she turned to watch him walking towards them both. "We're good… in fact," she paused, as Steve arrived next to them all, and Maria linked both of their hands together. "We actually have some news."

Phil raised his eyebrows, a thumping in his chest that he recognised as excitement taking over, and Steve smiled slightly abashedly, before looking down at Maria beside him.

"I asked Maria to move in with me" he announced happily, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, and glancing back up to Phil and Lola.

"And I said yes" she continued, squeezing his hand. "We're looking for a house just out of town which we can make a home."

Phil grinned in response, reaching out and shaking Steve's hand.

"I'm really happy for you both" he told them honestly, taking the empty plate from Lola and putting it back onto the table, letting his now wriggling daughter down onto the grass below them all. "Seriously."

"Thanks Phil," Steve replied, the three of them watching as Lola wobbled slightly, before toddling across the garden to where her grandmother was waiting with open arms. "When we find somewhere, you'll have to come down with Lola for a few days."

Maria mock-glared at the idea of spending a whole weekend with her brother, but Phil nodded in thanks, smiling at Steve.

It would be nice to get away for a few days, to experience a change in scenery, and show Lola there was more to life than this one town.

There were so many memories here, both good and bad, and Phil was well aware of the pitying stares the two of them received whenever they left the house. This was a quiet street, and everybody residing upon it knew what had transpired the previous summer.

The closest neighbours had attended the funeral service, and the elderly lady next door, who cared for Lola sometimes, had come to the memorial held the previous month, to mark one year since the loss.

That afternoon had been the hardest day since the funeral, and Phil knew it. He'd broken down more than once, but many others had done the same, and he didn't feel the need to be as strong for that day.

Everybody mourned, dabbing tissues to damp eyes, presenting freshly cut flowers to the headstones, and singing hymns in the nearby chapel in memory.

Lola had looked around in wonder, and it tore through Phil's heart when she'd held a photograph of herself with Audrey that he'd brought with them for the day. She would never know her mother, not really, but at the same time, she was here, and she was alive, and Phil was absurdly grateful for that fact.

One day, he would have to tell her the truth, sit her down and explain to her why she was being raised only by himself. But for now, he was happy to keep to their own lives, and pointing out in pictures to her that the beautiful lady beside him in them, with waves of golden hair, was "Mama".