Author's Note: Ask and ye shall gleefully receive! Another D.D. in the Stripper Sting AU is up next and more for the WIPs will happen after this blessed mini hiatus. Have a good one!
(CMW2/Trumpetnista: Draftbook Drabble #23-(Follow to D.D.s #1,3,5,8,14, and 16, The Trail/First Term AU, Fitz, Olivia, FTGIV and Karen, Cyrus, OCs abound, established Olitz and FTGIV/OC(Dexa), mentioned past Mellitz Zombie, past Edison/Olivia, pre-Karen/OC, and established Cyrus/James, family dynamics, step family dynamics))
Words from the Gladiator in a Hoodie: I've said it before and I'll say it again: canon fuckery is wonderful fuel to my SCANDAL-ous Muses. Also, I'm fully prepared if Olitz never becomes permanently happy canon (because The Creator's hubris at this rate will get the whole damned show cancelled sooner or later, likely sooner rather than later) because not only will they live on in my heart, they will live on in the fandom's and that's awesome. I still hope that The Creator and her enablers will take their heads out of their asses before it's too late but still whatever, I'ma do Me and Me wants Olitz.
Back by popular demand is The Trail AU and I hope y'all enjoy the latest. Another D.D. is in the works after this one and as always, there will be more for the WIPs. Mad Love, Jam, and Power Drills, ~*Trump*~
PS: From this story forward, please cast in your mind a brown with fill-in-the-blank colored streak mop topped Evan Peters (of AHS fame) as FTGIV. If you do a side by side with him and The Admiral, dude definitely should've been cast as canon FTGIV. And both of them could get it on the kitchen floor if they wanted it from me, to be honest. Also, instead of Mary Mouser, Karen is Madeline Carroll. I like both actresses but S3 Karen looks more like a child from Fitz and Mellie than S4 Karen. Although, K.G. in here definitely has S4 Karen's temperament sans the questionable taste in boys, party animal ways and disrespect towards her father and Liv. Her Incubator, however…yeah…
Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"
Excerpt from Draftbook Drabble #16...
"Good Morning America! It's Wednesday, November 5th 2008, and we have a new President…"
"Grant took 74% of the popular vote… dominated the electoral college…even with the loss of Ohio to Governor Samuel Reston of Maryland…"
"Republican Candidate Governor Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III of California has been elected to be the 44th President of the United States of America…"
"...celebrated his win by laying a rather impressive kiss on Olivia Pope and it seems that he is not the only Grant man with…"
"…Baby Boy Grant is officially down with the swirl! That's right, ladies and gentlemen…Fitzgerald Thomas Grant IV is off of the market and not only is he with a black girl, he's with a brilliant little knockout…this picture of them was posted to his little sister's Facebook page shortly after his dad won the Election…aren't they adorable? I think they're adorable…"
"Like father, like son…"
"…Dexa Elizabeth Washington...16 year old only daughter of TruBlue Cosmetics CEO Beatrix Sanchez-Washington and Nathanial Washington VII. of the 80 year old Washington Import/Export Company based out of San Francisco…"
"…If it was just Dad and Liv, I wouldn't be worried because I know that they'd be cool, despite Cyrus' bitching about my timing and the Optics…"
"The angry old penguin can blow it out of his ass. He's worried that the almighty Base will be pissed off that you're with Dex but meanwhile, he's not worried about being dad's CoS while rolling in the hay and between the sheets with a reporter barely half of his age…a dude reporter."
"Seriously?"
"Like the Black Plague, big brother. Do you remember James Novak?"
"Was he the nice guy from the Post with the Buddy Holly glasses and the unfortunate mouth-breathing asthma that we met in Miami?"
"That would be the one and that's who Cyrus is messing with on the down low. Well, not really because if I know, then everyone else certainly does. Don't get me wrong, Quatro. I care about Cyrus. I really do. Hell, he's practically family but he seriously needs to learn how to shut his big mouth and stay in his lane about personal Optics things that don't directly concern him. Dad and Liv are awesome, you and Dexa are awesome, and he should just come out of the closet and be done with it. It's not like Dad's gonna throw him out with the dirty dishwater and that's the only person who really matters in D.C. since he's The Big Giant Cheese now…"
"…Querido, you said that you wanted me to meet your whole fucked up family and to eat dinner."
"You already met my family. You met Dad and Liv and you already know Karen. That's the family that matters..."
Inauguration Day- 2 Hours after the Ceremony/7 Hours before the Main Inaugural Ball…
"…so, when are you going to resign your post?"
"Excuse me?"
"You're excused. You just stood here and in 10 minutes completely disrespected me, and you did it claiming that if I don't change my ways and looks, if don't become more traditional, then Dad will be impeached or stonewalled by the hyper traditional and conservative factions of his Party for the rest of his Presidency. Yet, you stubbornly refuse to acknowledge the overwhelming and shameful fact that your being gay and in a "secret" relationship with James Novak, a well known liberal investigative reporter while you are the White House Chief of Staff is a much more problematic thing to Them than their President having a straight firstborn son that just happens to enjoy wearing kilts, painting his nails, gymnastics, cooking, and sewing. My father can't change how I express my individuality nor does he wish to, thank God but he can change who his Chief of Staff is in the name of your precious Optics and Base. So, I ask you again, Cyrus, when are you going to resign your post?"
"I…"
"Answer the question, Cyrus. I want to know, too."
"Karen, I…"
"You need to answer him and then you need to go and talk to our parents about your sick need to stick your nose in family business that doesn't concern you before midnight or this video will be posted and it will go viral. I've already got a title in mind: Bitter Beene Slams POTUS' Free Spirited Firstborn. It rolls off of the tongue nicely, don't you think?"
"Karen…"
"For every action taken, there are consequences to be faced. We learned that in Pre-K. You have drifted out of your lane again and while DNA proves we are our father's children, despite The Incubator sitting on anyone's cock that smells like political treasure, unlike him, we're not going to put up with your conniving ways more than necessary. We have no reason to. Your little intervention was not necessary at all. My brother is just fine as he is and you have no right to try and police his life when you're too much of a chickenshit bitch baby to hold hands with your boyfriend in public. Oh, I'm sorry…alleged boyfriend. God forbid that anyone gets confirmation that you love and are human because then the whole damned world would end."
"Isn't it exhausting hiding who you really are? I mean, I get that you had to do it back in the day but you don't have to do it now. Dad won't throw you out on your ass because of your sexual orientation and he likes James. He might throw you out on your ass for what just happened but Mom will talk him out of doing it if you're straight with them. He listens to her before anyone, even God."
"Mom? You mean Olivia, right? He means Olivia."
"Brilliant deduction, Grumpy Gay Sherlock. Look, obviously and unfortunately, Liv's not our bio-mom but she is our Mom in all of the ways that matter. She supports us. She listens to us. She'll be silly with us and she'll help Dad discipline us without being unfair about it. She keeps us out of trouble and out of the headlines. She remembers important things like what we're allergic to, when our schoolwork's due, and what kind of music we like. She actually loves Dad for Dad himself, not for the Politics and she actually cares about me and Quatro, which other women in her position likely wouldn't. Other women would hate us on G.P. or do the bare minimum with us to keep Dad happy. Liv isn't like that. She gives a fuck about us. She gives a whole winery of barrels of fucks about us. The woman who carried us and pushed us out doesn't give a fraction of a fuck about us and Dad like Liv does. The Incubator never loved us or Dad unconditionally. She only pretended to in the name of the almighty Optics and for the sake of her own personal political power plays."
"And Millicent didn't put that much effort in pretending…Olivia Pope is our mother, Cyrus and we love her dearly, just as much as we love Dad, if not a little bit more. It's really not that shocking, all things considering…"
March 2008
17 year old Fitzgerald Thomas "Gerry" Grant IV knew that he currently looked like an extra out of Fight Club or a Quentin Tarantino movie.
He looked horrible.
Both sets of knuckles were mangled underneath white bandages, oozing blood in places and scabbing over in others. A deepening black and blue bruise extended from the apple of his right cheek to the corner of his lips. His lower lip was split, scabbing over but still, there was an angry red mark. His Grant for the People t-shirt was ripped in the sleeve, revealing more bruises and stained with blood from his swollen nose. His boots were off, revealing his bare calves and royal purple painted toenails on his bare feet. His bruised knees were exposed by his black and blue Clan Grant tartan and he could feel his left ankle stiffen up as time passed, an indication that it may be sprained again. He'd have to check with a doctor after he got to DC.
Of course, he and his sister had been suspended for a month and a half. All of the combatants had been, which was fair and they had requested to do their time with their parents in the Capital. The California Ranch was nice and had plenty of staff to look after them (not that they really needed it) but they wanted to be with their parents.
Turning his head slowly, he took in his equally stoic and battered little sister.
Karen's white uniform dress shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a pale gray tank top underneath, both tops stained with blood from her nose and from their shared opponent's girlfriend. Her knuckles were bruised and her palms flushed pink from slapping. Her right eye was swollen almost shut and like him, her lower lip was cut. Her gray uniform skirt was wrinkled from clutching hands with a damp spot from the icepack resting on her right thigh. Her white tights were ripped and ran almost to ribbons. Unlike him, she was only wearing one of her boots. The other had been thrown with brutal precision at the charging head cheerleader's nose, breaking it and leaving her crying on the cafeteria floor.
Karen met his gaze and a slow, bloodthirsty smirk curved her 14 year old lips upwards.
"No regrets."
Gerry nodded solemnly in agreement and looked away, resting his head against the cool painted brick of the headmaster office's waiting area.
"Do you think anyone will press serious charges?"
"No. It was on film with audio. Everyone knows that they started it. We just ended it. Likely, we'll have to do community service, pay a hefty fine and maybe do a little probation for good measure. After all, they've got to show that Presidential kids aren't immune to the law."
"That's true. Still, even without getting felonies on our records, we're gonna be grounded until the end of time, Quatro or at least until the end of the summer."
"I know."
"And it's gonna be a hot topic from BNN to the fish wrap mags."
"I know."
"We made an Optical mess."
"We did."
"We beat up the star QB and the head cheerleader."
"We did."
"I mean, we limped away but Trevor's still in the infirmary and Amber's nose…it looked like a whoopee cushion."
"Mm…or a blue corn tortilla."
"We're in deep shit. What we did was the morally right thing to do but we're still in deep shit."
"I know."
"And once Dad and Mom are done calling us to the carpet, Dex is gonna come back from Vancouver and chap both of our asses raw in English, Spanish, and Arabic. Did you know that she speaks Arabic?"
"Farsi. It's Farsi. Her Uncle Rico has an antiquity contact in Tehran and he taught her when she was 6."
"Big Sister is brilliant as fuck."
"I know. That's why I fell for her."
"That and she's got curves that'll resurrect the dead."
"Don't you be looking at my woman's curves, K.G."
"I'm an artist, Numb Nuts. Artists appreciate beauty of all types and on all persons. Don't worry about it. I'm quite straight and I already have someone in my sights. And even if I was bi or a lesbian, I'd never go after Dex. It would be lowdown and proxy incestuous. Ick."
"Mm. The Grant family tree is already fucked up enough without that Dueling Banjos Deliverance bullshit…no regrets?"
"No regrets, ev-er."
Despite split lips and growing headaches, both of them grinned and giggled.
Their bandaged fists bumped, their thumbs hooked, and they pulled their hands apart with a soft snap of the fingers. Their secret handshake had originated when he was 9 and she was 7 during a fish fry. Over the years, it was used to celebrate and to reaffirm their loyalty to each other.
Just because they had real parents now, just because their family was an actual family now and not just a political caricature, did not erase the years where they had nothing but the other in their corner. Their father had tried valiantly to be there for them but with the duties and responsibilities of his position while trying to maintain the twisted zombie that had been #Mellitz…thankfully, things had changed and for the better.
There had been a lot of changes in the Grant family. Starting from the DNA drama involving their biological mother and the divorce to the establishment of #Olitz and #GerDex (Gerry still marveled at the fact that he was one-half of a real life OTP), there was food for thought. Some of the thoughts were good. Some of them were very progressive. Some of them were wary and inevitably, there were very angry, very nasty, very ignorant people who wanted to express their negative opinions loudly. Trevor Michaels and Amber Millhouse fell deep into the last category.
Amber still had an axe to grind against him for turning her down and the blonde Queen Bee had already despised Dexa Washington before they had started dating. Dexa was bold, brash, beautiful, and brilliant. She didn't shrink back from anyone and she refused to kiss ass, even if it meant she was unpopular. She wore whatever she wanted to wear. She said whatever she wanted to say. Even though she wasn't popular, she was still respected by both students and staff, something Amber never managed to do. Amber was the Queen Bee on paper and to her immediate circle but overall, she was a joke, a Mean Girls caricature. The teachers either didn't pass her or passed her just to get rid of her and her foul attitude. Dexa was everything Amber wasn't and the blonde just hated her.
Trevor didn't like Gerry because Gerry just didn't give a fuck about being different. Gerry didn't give a fuck about being popular. Gerry didn't give a fuck about his political and social capital. Gerry didn't give a fuck about traditional gender roles. Gerry walked around with painted nails and was the assistant tailor for the Music department. Gerry was also known for his brutal defense on the lacrosse field and for being responsible for Dexa sometimes looking dreamy with smeared red lipstick in the hallway. Gerry had managed to snag Dexa in the first place, something that he had tried to do since she arrived and had failed miserably. Gerry was a Grant, the son of the President and he was just…Trevor was confused by Gerry and that confusion led to jealous anger against him, egged on by his loving girlfriend Amber.
Both Trevor and Amber came from money. Trevor's was Old Antebellum. Amber's had been made during the Silicon Valley boom. Both sets of parents had given them everything they wanted and made them feel as if they could pass judgment on everyone and everything that didn't fit into an acceptable, traditional, white bread America mould…
Both of them had come to the table where Gerry and Karen had been eating, looking to start a verbal or physical confrontation. They didn't care. They just wanted to make sure that they knew that just because they were the President's kids didn't mean that they weren't still freaks. Since it was nothing new, both of them had managed to ignore the idiotic pair easily, incensing them further.
As soon as they had brought up Olivia and Dexa as a negative, things had escalated quickly.
Like all bullies and predators, once the weak spot had been found, Amber and Trevor kept at it.
The louder Trevor and Amber got, the quieter the Grant kids had gotten, drawing eyes (and phone cameras) to the growing scene. The situation had exploded when Trevor finally just slugged Gerry and their fight had been on. Loyal to her man, Amber had grabbed Karen by the hair and punched her in the eye. Eventually, it had degenerated into a melee of fists, feet, and in Karen's case, a shoe. After Amber was down, she had leapt onto Trevor's back and sank her teeth into his shoulder, forcing him to break the half nelson he had Gerry in. Eventually, three teachers and the head nurse had forced their way through the crowd to break it up.
Amber had run off crying, leaving her Trevie-Bear behind, and the QB was lying on the floor howling like a toddler, accusing the crazy Grant children of jumping him, much to the disdain of the spectators…
The side door opened and in walked SSAs Daniel Benson and Hal Rimbeau, immediately followed by a white maxi sundress adorned Olivia Pope.
/
Looking at the two exhausted teenagers, Olivia remembered a Calvin and Hobbes quote that fit the current situation perfectly.
'Being a parent means wanting to hug and wanting to strangle your kid at the same time'
Knowing that Karen and Gerry had willingly gotten into a fight, especially since they were so high profile made her want to scream. What had they been thinking? Had they been thinking at all? Also, knowing that part of the reason that Karen and Gerry had willingly gotten into a fight to defend her made her want to hold onto them as tightly as their various wounds would allow her to. Seeing them hurt and sad made her feel a pressing need to do something, to yell at the little shits who hurt them or at least make the Headmaster piss himself in terror.
With as much money as they was shelling out for their tuition and board, the kids should be able to be themselves without being picked on by two little assholes. How long have they been bullied? Why hadn't someone informed her or their father of the situation? Why hadn't they just kept it a verbal confrontation or gotten a teacher? All right, they had been defending themselves but still, fighting was bad. Fighting in public and with such brutality was worse. What had they been thinking? Had they been thinking at all? Where were the little bastards who provoked the situation? They better not get off scot free or she'd rip them apart for hurting her babies…
It was a very confusing emotional cocktail but according to Fitz Grant III, it was just par the course for parenting.
Her POTUS paramour hadn't said it outright but Olivia knew that he wasn't angry at the kids' actions. Not even a little bit. Fitz was proud of them. He put on a good amount of bluster to calm an apoplectic Cyrus down but Olivia could see right through him. Fighting was bad. Fighting in public was worse but their hearts had been in the right place, really. Plus, knowing their father as she did, knowing Grants as she did, as soon as their loved ones were put on blast, a fight had been a foregone conclusion. Olivia wasn't exactly angry at them. She was annoyed at the Optical mess they had made and concerned about their physical wellbeings (not to mention their academics) but she wasn't angry.
Okay, she was a little angry but angry was buried underneath concern and genuine affection…
"C'mere. Both of you."
Karen was 5'6. Gerry was 5'11. Olivia was in leopard print flats so she was at her true height of 5'4. Karen was able to hide her half of her face in Olivia's red cardigan covered shoulder but Gerry's cheek was resting on top of her head. Mindful of any torso bruises, the hug was gentle but it was tight enough to be comforting. There would have to be some sort of discipline given out later on but right now, the Grant children…her children needed to be comforted.
"We're really sorry, Mom."
Mom. Now, there was a title that she never thought would be given to her. Not from a lack of desire…contrary to popular belief, Olivia had always wanted to be a mother. It just seemed like it wasn't in the cards for her. She was driven, married to her work and plus with her taste in men, the last thing anyone needed was a child brought into the middle of a train wreck relationship. It had been a common bone of contention between her and Edison Davis. Olivia was religious about her Depo shots and wouldn't even consider letting him inside her without a condom. Edison wanted kids. He wanted to get married and he wanted kids. Olivia always said that she wasn't ready for it, which was true but really, she just didn't want to be married to him or to have his kids. It had taken a while for Edison to accept that but once he had, the relationship had quickly imploded.
As had become the norm, things were very different with Fitz Grant III. Not only because she was willing and eager to marry him and take him bareback and have his babies but just…Fitz had come into the relationship with children, with teenagers. They were a package deal and instead of running away, Olivia had plunged herself head first into being a positive mother figure for them. They desperately needed and wanted one. She'd never try and replace Mellie but she could be there for them. She could listen to them. She could protect them and play with them. Olivia had lost her mother at age 12 and her father was more like a Father in Name Only. She knew what it was like to feel all alone and unwanted. She didn't want that awful feeling for Karen and Gerry. She didn't want more of that awful feeling for Karen and Gerry…
Tears pricked behind her eyes as Karen began to cry and Olivia rocked slowly on her heels.
"It's all right, Kare-Bear…it's going to be all right…"
"I want Daddy, too…can we go now?"
"Of course. Let's go home."
/
Two Weeks Later…
"You loco chico blanco estúpido (crazy stupid white boy)…what were you thinking?! How could you be so damned stupid?! Look at you! You look mutilado (mangled) and…and I was so fucking worried about you, Fitzgerald! Amber's nothing but a stupid bottle blonde flea with a big mouth but roid rage Trevor could've really hurt you! He could've killed you! You and K.G. and you…you…oh, you bastard!"
"Lo siento ... lo siento mucho ... perdóname (I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, forgive me) ...I didn't mean to scare you, Dexa…"
"You bastard! You stupid fucking bastard…"
"I'm so sorry, baby…c'mere…"
"No!"
Reaching for her wrist, Gerry gently urged a sobbing Dexa into his arms and she clung to him tightly, shuddering. As soon as she had gotten back to school, everyone had eagerly filled her in about what had happened, complete with visual aids. It had taken some doing but with the help of Olivia Pope (and her relatives in the area), Dexa had been put on a private jet to D.C. with her heart in her throat. It had been 2 weeks since it all went down and while the buzz was fading, she was still worried about both Grant children. She had to see for herself that they were okay.
Karen had met her at the private hangar and Dexa had hugged her tightly. She had also yelled at her but not nearly as harshly as she had just yelled at Gerry. Seeing him still bandaged and propped up by pillows in his bed had driven home that he had been hurt, made it real…
Honestly, she wasn't shocked about the fight. She was surprised that something like it hadn't happened sooner. Fitzgerald Grant IV was different. He was unashamed to be different and very secure in it, something that either intrigued someone or repulsed someone, especially teenagers. He was straight (very straight…goddamn, was he straight!) but he did "femme" things as easily as he publicly scratched his balls, which to his credit, he didn't do very often. Mostly, it happened during long marching band rehearsals and that was completely understandable. Precision movements, remembering music and field positions, mild Californian heat turned to sauna conditions because of exertion…sometimes things would chafe and would have to be unchafed pronto.
Gerry knew how to put cosmetics on himself and others. He could hem a dress in 10 minutes. The common area kitchen of his dorm building frequently saw him in there making anything from shrimp briyani to blueberry lemon sorbet from scratch. He read all sorts of poetry and wrote it. He had even participated in the mainly girl filled Poetry Slams every first Friday night of the month and had the crowd moved to tears with some of his work. Gerry Grant was different, deliciously different to her but to some, he was anything but delicious.
She had heard the whispers.
Freak.
Faggot.
Race Traitor.
Nigger Lover.
Spic Screwer…
Despite it being well into the 21st century and the growing commonality of interracial relationships, there would always be bigots and racists out there. Some would hide it in respectable language, in subtle action. Others wouldn't bother. They wanted everyone to know that they were better than anyone else and anyone who didn't fall in line was nothing but trash.
Gerry had always had a bulls-eye on him and once his dad had been elected as POTUS, once his dad had been so open with his love for Olivia Pope, once he had been so openly tender with her…the fight had been inevitable…
"No te quiero perder. (I don't want to lose you.)"
"Usted prosperaría sin mí. (You would thrive without me.)"
"Yo sé que meta yo todavía no quiero perderte. (I know that but I still don't want to lose you.) You're my best friend and my man and I just…I know that bad things happen all of the time. I know that there are assholes everywhere that are going to hate you for who you choose to be and who your parents are but…Fitzgerald, when I heard about the fight, when Nathan showed me the video footage…I had never been so terrified in my life. You just…you mean so much to me. You and Karen are a part of my heart, now and I…don't you ever do something that stupid and reckless ever again. I know you were doing it for good reasons but…I need you to live. I need you to remain intact. Do you understand me?"
"I understand, Dexa."
"Don't do something like that again. Promise me."
"You have my word."
/
"Are the kids asleep?"
"Mm-hm. Thank you for helping Dexa come see them, Liv. It's really helped."
"Mm. And speaking of Dexa, I take it that she's still in Quatro's room and bed?"
"She is but all clothes were secure and all four hands were in chaste places."
"If he's anything like you in the morning, that's gonna change fast. Hell, if she's anything like me in the morning, we may have to get the hose."
"I know. That's why I enlisted Karen to be their obnoxious alarm clock before things get too inappropriate. I don't know exactly what she's going to do but I saw her grinning evilly with her Drumline cymbals earlier so…"
Her laughter was warm and Fitz smiled fondly as she came out of their walk in closet, having just finished laying out their clothes. She was practically engulfed by his open black bathrobe and other than a thin white cotton camisole, she had on a pair of beige high cut panties with a multicolored dragonfly design. His Livvie loved dragonflies. She also loved stealing his clothes but that he didn't mind for a second.
He had been married but his relationship with Olivia was the first one where "nauseating couple things", as Cyrus dubbed them, were common. She'd steal his sweatshirts. He'd play with her hair (when she invited him to. He knew that touching a black woman's hair without her express permission was not only offensive but an invitation for a severe beat down…) and they'd eat off of each other's plates. She would pick out his ties and he'd make sure that she remembered to eat a proper meal when she burned the midnight oil. Wine and popcorn did not count as a proper meal. She'd make sure that he went running in the park with his main agents four times a week and he had a standing swimming date with her every Sunday evening.
"So, we've been invited to the Caldwells for dinner on Friday. I think one of them's going to announce a run for North Carolina's Governorship."
"Most likely Will. He'd be good for the job…are we supposed to bring anything?"
"Just us."
"I'm gonna have to deal with you and your frat boy friends being drunk and goofy, aren't I?"
"You like me drunk, Livvie."
"I like you when you're drunk and horny. Drunk and existential you, I can take or leave and by leave, I mean "accidentally" shoving you off of the Truman Balcony."
Fitz snorted and watched as she settled into bed next to him. Her camisole was removed and she rested on her stomach, curling her legs up. Turning off the bedside lamp, he spooned up against her and accepted her good night kiss gladly. Within seconds, she was fast asleep.
He still couldn't believe that she was with him in his bed, in his arms, in his life.
Of all of the men that Olivia Pope could've chosen to be with, she chose him. She loved him.
She loved him unconditionally. For that alone, he'd give her the whole world if she asked for it.
She loved his children, their children unconditionally. For that alone, she'd have his heart forever.
She was…she was everything.
She was his everything and he thanked God every day that she was in his life.
"I love you, Livvie."
Always.