"Smithy!" She calls to him from across the road, balloons wrapped around her wrist and a present clutched between her legs. He waves, then decides better of it and finishes the awkwardness with a painful attempt at a fake cough. She eyes him warily, but ignores it, remembering why she's called to him. "You busy, sucker?"

"Er," the sucker comment takes him aback, "Not particularly, dropping this off for Leon."

"Right, you're coming with me then." So it's decided. He's going to be accompanying Stevie to a party for her niece (who Smithy didn't know existed until cries of 'Auntie Stevie!' burst his eardrums.)

He smiles awkwardly and plays with the too-loose strap of his watch as sixteen young children bustle around, all talking in pitches only audible for dogs. There's lots of whispering and subtle (or not so subtle) pointing in his direction as Stevie leaves him for her niece (Lily, who's four today and is determined to celebrate in style.) Eventually a thirty-something brunette saunters over to Smithy, plate of party rings as a peace offereing.

"Dan, right?" She asks, chuckling awkwardly. It's clear, Smithy thinks, that Stevie keeps her relatives in the dark as much as she does her friends.

"Smithy, actually. Sorry." He doesn't know why he's apologising - maybe because he can't be what Stevie apparently wants.

"Oh, really?" Now the woman - Bernadette - sounds very intrigued and Smithy can't seem to shake her. She asks about his career, his family life and then some and Smithy has never wanted Stevie to show her face more. Finally his phone rings (and Smithy decides God doesn't hate him), allowing Smithy to make a quick exit out the door. He sees the caller and changes his mind - God definitely hates him.

"Hi," his tentative voice rattles down the phone, scuffing the soles of his shoes as he waits patiently for a reply.

"Hi, yourself. Where are you?"

"At this thing," he motions with his hands, before remembering she can't actually see him. "A party. For a four year old."

"Oh, sounds.. fun."

"Quit the sarcasm," he shakes his head, hearing her smirk down the line. He hoists himself on a brick wall opposite the party, keeping an eye out should Stevie reappear. "Why, do you have a better offer?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." He's intrigued and she knows it.

"What?"

"Meet me in a hour."

And with that, she ends the call and Smithy's left with the decision he ends each night and starts each morning with: Stevie or Coral. This time though, he's got forty-five minutes to decide because he has to figure out where the hell Coral wants him to meet her, and then he realises; he's already made the decision. So he bides his time, re-enters the party and tells Stevie, quickly and quietly. He pretends not to see her face fall, and tries to ignore the guilt - she did, after all, make him suffer with Bernadette for a good half an hour when really, it should have been Dan's job. He was, after all her boyfriend, whilst Smithy remained a figment of her past. Why she was even at the station, looking for him in the first place was a wonder - surely she should have just dragged Dan along to begin with. Deciding now was not the time to ponder such issues, he muttered goodbye, placed a peck on her cheek and promptly made a dash for it. Figuring out one woman was bad enough, but two was a sure-fire route to death.

He gives up with seven minutes to go, sending her a text to ask where she is. He's played the games with Stevie and they've tired him out - he just wants an easy life, especially when his job is always so demanding. She replies graciously and he rushes to meet her, spotting her hair far before she spots him. She's got him a drink and she sits, waiting, sipping her white wine with out so much as a drop spilling elsewhere. Smithy thinks her eyelashes are impossibly long and finds himself attaching his own vision to her odd-coloured eyes.

"Took your time," she comments, letting Smithy take the comment any which way he likes.

"I was at a par-"

"You said," she smiles a wicked smile and takes another sip. "Was it good?"

"Hmm?" He's far too transfixed with her face to hear her questions.

"The party - was it good?"

"Yeah," his reply is automatic, until he thinks about what she's actually asked him. "It was.. Odd."

"Odd? How odd in itself. Shall we order?"

"Oh." It dawns on him he has no wallet, he was, after all, only planning to spend the day popping into the station and doing a spot of window shopping. "I've got an idea."

He takes her by the hand and they run, with Smithy wildly thinking up a place that will satisfy her craving for adventure. He takes her to a lake and they sit on the banks, threading daisy chains in the dusk.

"This is way too complicated," she says, all of a sudden. Smithy's got a lop sided smile; he thinks this daisy chain malarkey is rather easy. "This.. Relationship."

"It is?" He can't see it. Or maybe he just doesn't want to.

"You like her and you like me. I like you and she likes you."

"She also likes him," he reminds Coral, who lets a soft laugh escape.

"There is that," she acknowledges, wary of Smithy's hand itching closer to hers. "Look Smithy, I'm too high maintenance to be a bit on the side."

His head drops slightly because he knows it's true, but he can't give up on Stevie, not yet. "Yeah, but you're too good to give up altogether."

"There's that too.." she trails off, sexing the moment and placing her lips onto his. He responds and his brain becomes far too confused to decide between the two of them. Why couldn't he just have both?

Because God hated him, Smithy decided. And so he hated God.