I am so glad people are still enjoying this! Your reviews mean an awful lot to me. There is so, so much more of this to come and I'm sorry for the slow updates, but I like to take my time when writing this one for some reason. Anyway, that's enough of my rambling... Here's the fourth chapter!

Slowly, Now

A week has passed since Hayley gained a friend and Carla finds the frequency of her encounters with Nick are on the rise, though the awkwardness which she feels during each of them is declining and declining dramatically. Such meetings between them are now bordering on familiar; overfamiliar. People are noticing. Take Leanne, for example. Carla has began to earn herself more eyerolls than usual, her aloud wondering as to why Carla now spends most of her lunchtimes propping up the bistro bar grating quickly. To help out a local business like my own is the feeble excuse she often comes up with. Her joke of I hope you'll return the favour when your knicker elastic loosens always seems to fall flat.

On Leanne's ears, that is. But not on Nick's.

He has told her multiple times now that he thinks she is incredibly witty. She can't argue with him on that. Nor does she argue with his insistence that she should smile more often and laugh at the jokes he tells she doesn't find funny, just to be polite and save - in his words - his weak heart the embarrassment of having to acknowledge the fact that his sense of humour is not all it used to be.

True to her word, Carla does manage to find Sarah a job at the factory. It's in packing and it involves working in very close proximity with Kirk, but it's better than nothing. That's what she hears Nick remind his sister as he practically pushes her into Underworld bright and early on the Monday morning, as promised.

"Ah! There she is!"

It may be early, but Sarah isn't. In fact, she is a whole ten minutes late.

She is dressed as she may have done back in Milan, when her name meant something in spaces such as Carla's. Not at all in the way Carla has seen her dress since she arrived back in Weatherfield. Gone are the comfy clothes, the mom jeans and her hair scraped back into a ponytail. Sarah looks smart and sophisticated and so overdressed for the job at hand that it is almost embarrassing. Carla has to hide her grimace.

"I was gonna send a search party out for you!" she says, approaching the siblings.

Behind them, the girls (and Sean, and Kirk) are already hard at work. Well, as hard as they are able to work before their first tea break of the day, which Carla just knows Beth will soon suggest is upon them, despite the workforce having only been inside the building for no less than an hour.

"Oh." Sarah looks somewhat apprehensive, smoothing down her skirt. "Sorry if we're a bit late. Had to drop Bethany off at the bus stop beforehand."

Carla nods, unconvinced.

"Right." The fact that Nick does not, cannot, meet her eyes tells her all she needs to know about that particular lie. "Well." And Carla guides Sarah over to the corner of the factory floor, where Kirk is waiting for them with a daft grin and a box balancing on each of his shoulders. "Sarah, this is Kirk. Kirk, this is Sarah."

She can almost hear Sarah rolling her eyes.

"Yes. Kirk and I have met before," she replies, exasperated.

Carla grins.

"Ah, good! Then you'll get on like a house on fire, won't you?" She pats Sarah on the arm and begins to walk away from her, back towards Nick, calling over her shoulder, "It's pretty simple what you've got to do! Any questions, ask Kirk; he's the cardboard and plastic expert around here!"

When she meets Nick by the door, he has a fond smile on his face that almost takes her aback. He had been watching their exchange unfold with folded arms and a thoughtful expression on his face. He doesn't speak when she approaches. He instead tilts his head and smiles even wider.

"What?" she asks, beginning to feel rather self conscious.

"Nothing," he replies. "Just... thank you for that. You didn't have to find her a job."

Carla raises a brow.

"Oh, but I did. A favour for a favour, remember?"

Nick shakes his head.

"Yes, but I never did fix your laptop, did I?" he reminds her.

Carla purses her lips and then shrugs. "You would've if you could've; that's the main thing. And it's all working fine now, so it's no matter. Besides, it's a job in packing. I'll be surprised if she even lasts the day."

Across the room, as if on queue, the sound of Sarah dropping a box from great height cuts conversations short. All that can be heard is the repetitive hum of working sewing machines as everyone shamelessly gorps at her. Her embarrassment is evident in the way her cheeks burn a bright red and she quickly makes her way down the stairs to collect the disarranged items from the floor. Kirk is nowhere to be seen.

Carla bites her lip down in discomfort and turns to Nick, who is trying to hold back laughter.

"I think you may be right," he admits and as he turns to leave, Carla places a hand on his arm. Upon realising how this may look to the gossip mill they are currently standing within the vicinity of, she quickly pulls it away. But it's too late. It's as if her hand has left an impression - not visible, but very much felt - against him and he stares at her. She stares back. She forgets what it is she wanted to say to him.

"Bistro?" It's one word that she is immensely grateful to hear, for it is one of the ones that now feels completely lost to her.

She nods.

"Yes."

"At lunch," Nick clarifies. "You can update me on Sarah."

She smiles.

"And is that all?"

Nick pauses before shaking his head, just a fraction. "You'll have to wait and see, won't you?"

It turns out that Sarah isn't as bad as Carla had predicted. She makes it to lunchtime with not a smile, but at least there are no tears in sight and she has learnt rather quickly to hold her head up high as far as the other girls are concerned. The bistro is quiet when she enters to find that Nick is on his break. At least, this is what Gavin tells her when he points her in the direction of his office, the office she stands in front of unsurely for at least two whole minutes before the door opens to reveal Nick, chuckling softly to himself. It doesn't take Carla long to realise why.

"How long have you been standing there for?" he asks her, but not unkindly.

Carla's eyes are met with the porthole in the office door. She groans slightly, hiding her head in her hands in a way that makes him drop the question immediately.

"Just get us a drink, will you?"

And he does. He gets Gavin to pour her something soft as he sits at the bar with her, a smile on his lips he can't seem to shift. A smile she returns without really noticing, without knowing or wanting to know the reason as to why.

She takes a sip of her drink before placing down the glass. Nick's fingers are running up and down the edge of the bar. A nervous habit; simply something to do.

"So, tell me. How's Sarah been so far?" he asks.

Carla can't help but chuckle. "Not terrible, actually. Not brilliant, mind; but definitely not terrible."

Nick looks satisfied with her answer.

"Good," he says. "And I hope you told her that. I know what Sarah can be like. She hates to feel undervalued."

Carla frowns a little.

"Nick, it's her first day," she reminds him.

"Yeah, but—"

"One step at a time, eh?" And she places her hand down on his thigh. Similarly to earlier, it makes her stop and think. Makes his breath catch, his palms sweat. Unlike earlier, however, they are alone. Not entirely, of course; but no one of importance is about. No one they know, no one who knows them. This knowledge is what allows Carla to let her hand linger, let it pat his leg before slowly letting go. Nick looks rather flustered by the end of it and is smiling wider, staring down into his lap.

"It's funny. If it weren't for Hayley, I'd be drinking right now. On me lunch break. Proper drinking," she says with a little laugh, wanting to break the tension she can no longer pretend doesn't exist between them.

"Oh, come on," Nick replies. "What's wrong with that? You've got to learn to live a little."

She thinks on that for a moment.

"Sometimes I feel like I've lived too much."

Nick is surprised by the seriousness of her reply, surprised that she hasn't told him the reason he isn't so against her bad drinking habits is because they are what help to line his designer pockets. He turns to look at her, really look at her, as she stares off into space. He nudges her shoulder with his, a friendly reminder that she is not alone in her thoughts or with them either. He agrees with what she is saying in regards to himself, but they both know that he would never admit to that aloud.

"I think you've lived enough, you know? I think you've lived the right amount. Everything you've experienced up to this point has been for a reason." She catches his eye, intrigued. "It's cliché, I know, but I think you see that reason every time you see your daughter." He nods, so sure of what he is saying. "You see it in her. She is the reason."

Carla smiles at him.

"You're right," she says and then her eyes roll. "Stop being so bloody perceptive, will you?"

Sarah survives a week at work; Bethany a week at school. To congratulate them and to apologise whilst breaking the news that he isn't willing to share his flat with anyone, family or not, Nick decides to treat them to a chippy tea. He is exiting the shop, food in hand, when he spots Carla pushing Hayley in the direction of the Rovers. The bottom of the infant's pram is full of bags, shopping bags. Nick knows that what is in them is none of his business. He knows that what happens in Carla's life isn't any of his business either. But that doesn't stop him approaching them, smiling at them, giving Hayley a little wave.

She bounces in her seat. She is the most awake he thinks he has ever seen her and her smile is beyond infectious.

"Hello," he greets them.

For what seems to be the first time, Carla does not look surprise to see him. Or reluctant to speak to him. She looks accepting of it for a change; it is welcome to her.

"Hello," she mirrors. She gestures towards the plastic bag he is carrying. "You hungry?"

It does look rather full.

"It's not all for me," he assures her and she merely nods, letting the subject drop. He gestures towards her bags. "And what's all this?"

His nosiness makes even him cringe.

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know?" Carla grins. She is brushing her fingers over the top of Hayley's head, where dark hair began to form a long time ago, soft hair whose mother's fingertips have the ability to make her sleepy with when pressed against. Hayley yawns and Nick just cannot get over the way in which she does it. The way her face seems to momentarily fold into itself, her little hands rubbing at her droopy eyes, nose then pressed to her blanket, the soft noises that escape her mouth hidden behind the comfort it offers to her. His awe at her daughter makes Carla want to blush, but she doesn't. She instead shakes her head at him and points towards the pub. "You know Michelle, don't you?"

Nick narrows his eyes.

"Actually, I don't..."

Carla carries on regardless of his joking.

"Well, she's getting married, in't she? In less than a month now. And I, being the fabulous maiden of honour that I am, decided to take to the Trafford Centre today - on my day off, I might add - to buy her a few things she may or may not want."

She seems to have gone coy all of a sudden. Nick is deadpan.

"So, underwear, then?"

His bluntness just makes her laugh. "No, idiot. If I wanted underwear, I wouldn't have to go out for it, would I?" He doesn't seem convinced. "It's just wedding stuff, honestly. Some of the little bits that are as, if not more, important than the dress. But you know. You're a man, so I don't think you'd understand."

He opens his mouth to speak, to tell her of his offence, decides against it, but then comes out with, "These little bits. You'd know all about their importance, wouldn't you? I mean, bar my mum, I don't think anyone around here has gotten married as much as you."

She wants to be taken aback, but his words are just taken in her stride.

"What can I say?" she replies. "It's a hobby of mine."

With a sarcastic smile, she brushes past him, maintaining eye contact with him the whole time. As she continues towards the Rovers, her smile becomes genuine and perhaps a little bit too large. Nick stares after her as she walks away, a stare which Bethany - who is walking from the bus stop towards her uncle - clocks immediately.

She shakes her head at the obviousness of him. His subtlety leaves a lot to be desired.

Oh, for God's sake...