A/N: I know I have no business starting a new story, but this plot is begging to be written. It's inspired by Ava Duvernay's show "Queen Sugar" on OWN. Watch it. It's brilliant. I've kicked my one shot habit so all my stories will be getting updates soon.

April 2015 · New Orleans

Olivia blinked awake at the sound of Fitz's alarm then slipped out of his sleeping embrace, leaving his warm bed behind. She rolled her neck and it cracked gently as she stretched before the mirror, looking at her marked chest in the morning half-light. She found her bra beside the footboard and slipped it on, glancing over her shoulder at Fitz. He was slowly rousing, giving her a small serene smile as he stretched beneath the dark sheets, contrasting so beautifully with his tan skin. Olivia went back to dressing, reaching behind her to hook her bra. Fitz got out of bed and walked to stand behind her, reaching out to fasten her the lacy garment. It was one of his favorites, a deep shade of red with sheer cups decorated with lace flowers and flimsy straps that always slipped off her shoulders.

He couldn't resist gently breathing her in, her soft scent of lemons and strawberries, his nose nuzzling her cheek. He hooked her bra then cupped her breasts, his hands slowly moving down to her stomach. Olivia turned and kissed the corner of her mouth then his lips. Fitz trailed kisses from her lips to the back of her neck, gathering her mass of corkscrew curls in his large hand, then down her spine to her lower back. A small heart, about the size of his thumbnail, decorated her right hip. He ran his thumb over the silken flesh. He couldn't resist biting into her supple flesh, framed so lovingly by her black thong. Olivia hissed covering his hands with her own. Fitz slid his hands down her thighs to her calves.

He found her dress, a fluttery yellow slip patterned with white daisies, under his work pants. Olivia stepped into it, allowing him to slide it up her body. He slid the impossibly thin straps up her arms then went to work lacing its back and tying the thin straps together. He wrapped his arms around her again, pressing a kiss to the hollow of her throat.

On the nightstand, his second alarm buzzed and he reluctantly released her, giving her another gentle kiss before he went to the bathroom. Olivia went out onto the balcony and picked her pack of cigarettes from the small table jammed in a corner. She took one out and lit up, leaning on the balcony's wrought-iron railing, blowing plumes of smoke at the rising run. Below her, the city awoke. A group of jazz musicians sang tunelessly as they staggered down the sidewalk from the club on the corner. On the other side of the street, a group of girls with backpacks laughed as they walked to the bus stop, one of them pushing a stroller. Garbage men yelled at each other as they gathered bins on the street. Looking down at the truck, she knew Fitz would be late for his own route—not that he cared. He had told her in no uncertain terms that nothing mattered to him when he was with her. It was one of the reasons she seldom spent the night, but he had been too charming the night before when he invited her over for his "famous" homemade lamb and rice.

She was on her second cigarette when Fitz joined her. He plucked the dress's lacing and murmured, "I love this dress."

A flippant remark crossed her tongue as she thought of how the dress had spent most of its time crumpled on his floor, but she only smiled as she passed him her cigarette. "I got some good tips so I thought I'd buy myself something new to wear to work. Lord knows my jeans could use a rest."

He chuckled, the laugh rumbling his chest as he wrapped around her, his hands moving over her generous hips. "I love those jeans too. And I'm willing to bet good money that they earned you half those tips cause you can't waitress worth a damn even after all these years."

Olivia laughed. "Well I've been doing it for almost five years and they haven't fired me yet."

Fitz kissed her cheek, his stubble prickling her baby soft skin. "It's only cause you're prettier than heaven itself."

Olivia grinned as she took her cigarette back. "And you're late."

"It's alright. Trash ain't got nowhere to be, cher," he replied. A chilly wind blew through the narrow street and Olivia's skin prickled with goose bumps. Fitz turned her around in his arms, pressing her to his chest. "The time is right/ You hold me tight/ And love's got me high…"

Olivia smiled as his hands found the ties on her dress. She shook her head, pulling away but he pulled her back in. "Fitz…"

He waltzed her back into his bedroom, twirling her slowly in his arms. "Please tell me, 'Yes,'/ And don't say, 'No'/ Honey not tonight…"

"You've already had all night. Wasn't that enough?"

Fitz shook his head. "Move a little close to me/ You owe it to yourself/ And I will selfishly take a little for myself/ And it's because of you/ That love won't let me wait…"

He danced her around the small room, humming softly against the hollow of her throat. Olivia reluctantly wrapped her arms around him. They danced toward the bed. Fitz turned her around and removed the pin holding her hair atop her head. her springy curls fell around her face and she lowered her head. Fitz kissed the back of her neck, slipping the straps down her arms. He unlaced her dress and pulled the bodice away from her body, quickly moving to her bra. Soon she was dressed as she had been that morning and Fitz joined her, kicking off his jumpsuit as he lifted her onto the bed. Olivia wiggled out of her underwear and Fitz did the same, pulling her to him by her ankles.

Olivia moaned softly as he covered her body with his, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. "Kiss my neck."

He pushed inside her, slipping his arms under her and lifting her slightly off the bed. He kissed her neck, the tender spot that made her squirm away, wanting more but none. Fitz held her in place, one hand on the back of her neck and the other around her waist, and continued kissing the spot as he moved slowly inside her. He moved to her ear and bit the lobe. "You gonna make me breakfast?"

"Is that…why you're…keeping me here?" Olivia moaned.

"Mmhm." He bit the delicate curve where her neck and shoulder met, and turned on his back so that she lay on top of him. "You're gonna make me steak and eggs, aren't you?"

"Noooooyes…" He sat up, grabbing a handful of her hair and pulled her face close to bite her bottom lip. Olivia's nailed marked his shoulders. "What are you gonna do for me?"

Fitz grinned, trailing kisses along her jawline. "Let you."

"Oh shut…shut…Fitz!" That familiar storm began swirling in her stomach and she clung to him desperately, rolling her hips. "Fitz I'm so close!"

"I know." His hips kept their rhythm and he took hold of hers to stop their frantic winding. "Fuck Liv…"

She shuddered in his embrace, finally freezing in a silent scream that made Fitz's breath catch as her center gripped and rippled around him. When she gasped back to life, she relaxed in his embrace with a sigh, her hips still lazily dancing with his as they lay back on the bed. She gave him a lazy smile. "So I take it you're missing this day of work."

"I'm sick. Can't you tell?" He gave an exaggerated cough. "I want some grits too."

"You still haven't told me what you're gonna do for me."

"I already made your eyes roll back so far I thought they'd get stuck. What else do you want, cher?"

Olivia smiled as she smoothed his hair. "You can take me to a movie tonight, and do what you always do for me at the movies."

It had become a pattern since their first date. He had insisted they sit in the balcony and she'd objected for half an hour before he squatted between the seats and ate her so selfishly that she could hardly walk as they left.

"I better get pancakes too for that, Livvie."

Olivia laughed as she rolled out of bed.

xXx

They were still in bed hours later, the sunset casting shadows through Fitz's blinds, the prospect of a movie long forgotten, when his phone began to buzz on the nightstand. He and Olivia roused slowly and he grabbed the phone, hitting the answer button before he looked at the screen. Olivia stared at his back in the semi darkness as he paced in front of the bed. He kept nodding and repeating, "I understand." She guessed from his frown that something serious had happened, and she hoped he hadn't played hooky one time too many. "I understand. I'll be there tomorrow. Thank you for calling."

He hung up and put the phone back on the nightstand then climbed back into bed. He wasn't exactly frowning as he stared at the ceiling, but Olivia wasn't sure what to make of his facial expression as he turned to face him. "My father's dead. He had an aneurism in the field. Nothing anybody could have done."

Olivia caressed his face. She hadn't heard anything about his father more than that he was a sugar cane farmer. She guessed they didn't get along but hadn't asked. "I'm sorry."

"I don't know if I am. He made a hobby out of beating my mother before I was born, switched to calling her every name in the book after that. I hated him. And now I have to go back there and play the grieving son. How am I supposed to do that?"

Olivia shrugged. "Bury the past with him."

He frowned. "I want him to suffer, to pay for what he did to her."

She rubbed his chest. "Can't hurt a dead man."

He nodded, lay his head on her chest. Olivia wrapped her legs around his waist, kissed the top of his head. "Want me to make you breakfast before you drive down?"

He looked up at her, a silly smile on his face. "So a man has to die for me to get breakfast?"

Olivia tweaked his nose. "Why can't you just let me be good to you?"

He kissed her chin. "Cause it's all an act."

xXxXx

The next day

Fitz's boots clonked on his faux hardwood living room floor as he walked to the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway and watched her at the stove. She wore his white t-shirt and gray socks pushed down around her ankles, her hair piled on her head. "I'd buy you Rogaine if you start losing all your hair/ Sew on patches to all you wear..."

He walked over to the stove and leaned against the counter, smiling at her hips keeping time with the makeshift rhythm of her spatula hitting the side of the skillet. Olivia grinned at him, reaching up to tweak his nose with her free hand. "Cause Iiii love you more than words could ever promise/ And youuuu take me the way I am."

"No other way to take you, cher." He had often teased her about her stubborn nature. She was perhaps the only person he knew who could defeat him in a battle of wills, relentlessly pouting until she got her way.

Olivia smirked. "Is that so?"

Fitz laughed. "Suppose it is. Not like you could do any better."

"Might could. I haven't looked."

"You're not looking. Better not be anyway." Fitz wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck. "We've gotta get rolling in a little bit, cher. Might wanna go pick out which of them tiny sundresses you're gonna wear today."

Olivia looked up at him. "You want me to go with you?"

"Why wouldn't I bring you?" She shrugged and Fitz's smile widened as he pushed her stray springy curls back from her face. "Because I haven't put a diamond on your pretty little hand? Cause I've got one. You're the stubborn one who won't put it on."

Olivia shook her head. "We talked about that. It's just too expensive."

"I don't recollect telling you you had to pay to wear it, cher."

"I just don't feel right keeping a silly piece of jewelry knowing what you spent on it. Why can't you just get me a cheap one so we can spend that money on the wedding?"

"I can't take that ring back. Not when it made you smile like it did." He grinned at the memory.

xXx

New Years 2015

Olivia blinked awake on New Year's Day, scooting over in bed as she searched for Fitz's warm body. She opened her eyes when she didn't find him and got out of bed, heading to the bathroom. He wasn't there either. She washed her hands, splashed some water on her hungover face. The glimmer in the mirror caught her eye and she looked down at her left hand with wide eyes, instantly becoming fully awake.

The size of the diamond was enough to floor her, but the telltale little blue box on the nightstand on her side of the bed made her gasp. She was still staring at the ring when Fitz walked into the room, grinning like the cat who'd gotten the cream. "Take it off and read the inscription."

Olivia's hand shook as she took off the ring and held it up to read the delicate script: "Always." It was a reference to her favorite Stevie Wonder song "As". Tears welled in her eyes as she turned it over in her hand. She looked up at Fitz, surprised to find him on one knee before her. He smiled. "So what do you say, cher?"

"Of course I wanna marry you. But I can't keep this ring. It must have cost a fortune."

"It did. Now put it back on."

She wore it for a week before gawking customers made her put it back in its box in Fitz's nightstand.

xXx

Fitz left the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a wooden box. He set it on the counter then looked at Olivia. "Open it."

She opened the box and took out the bundle of papers inside, noting the bank letterhead on them. "What are these?"

"He sent me $1000 a month every month for 12 years. Apparently garbage man money wasn't good enough for him." Olivia's eyes widened as her jaw went slack but Fitz only shrugged. "I've never spent any of it before you, never had a reason. But you're the kinda girl who deserves this kind of cash."

Olivia stared at the most current statement in shock. "So you've got a hundred grand in the bank just collecting interest?"

Fitz shrugged. "I don't want his money. I've got everything I need."

Olivia went back to the stove, turning his French toast over in the skillet. "So what are you gonna do with it now?"

He shrugged again. "Well, weddings cost an arm and a leg now. Houses and babies too. Plus, that car of yours is gonna quit any day now."

She looked up at him with a smirk. "So you're Mr. Moneybags and I've never even gotten a basic 15% tip? How does that figure?"

Fitz squeezed her midsection. "What would I tip you for? Getting my order wrong? Assuming you put it in, that is."

It was Olivia's time to shrug. "If you'd quit all your flirting, I might remember to do my job. Besides, I've always been better at back of the house than front."

Fitz smiled, an idea occurring to him. "I could take that money and open a restaurant for you. Maybe send you to culinary school or something."

She shook her head. "You're crazy. All that money and you're trying to hand it to me like it's bus fare. Not to mention you collect garbage for a living like you're not sitting on a fortune."

"A hundred grand ain't that much money, cher."

Olivia blinked, giving a sarcastic smile. "It is to somebody who makes two dollars an hour like me. Forever dependent on the kindness of strangers."

Fitz looked at her seriously. "I don't want that money. It doesn't change who he was, who I knew him to be growing up. The only think that might make it mean something is doing something good with it, like making you smile."

Olivia couldn't help smiling. "Well since a man died, I suppose I can wear the for a few days, but don't think that excuse will work forever."

xXxXx

The Next Day – St. Jefferson Parish

Fitz frowned at the bespectacled funeral home director. "Mr. Rosen, please don't take no offense to this, but I couldn't give a good goddamn about condolences and all that. I 'preciate it, believe me, cause I know you're just doing your job, but let's get a move on. Skip the niceties, the dogs and ponies, and whatever else so we can talk money."

Mr. Rosen cleared his throat as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Alright. What are you looking to spend?"

"The bare minimum," Fitz answered.

Mr. Rosen blinked and Olivia quickly stepped in. "The late Mr. Grant was a simple man. His home going should reflect that. We don't need any frills. A simple wooden casket, graveside service, minimal flowers. You understand, don't you?"

Mr. Rosen nodded. "We can certainly do that, ma'am."

"Brevity is key here, Mr. Rosen. Nobody should roast in this heat for the same old speech you hear at every funeral. Tell the minister we need a hymn and a prayer," Fitz said.

Mr. Rosen nodded again. "Any particular hymn?"

Fitz frowned. "Does it matter? He didn't even go to church."

Olivia gave Mr. Rosen an apologetic look. "I think 'His Eye is On the Sparrow' is a nice choice."

Fitz nodded and stood. "We can do all this Saturday morning, right?"

Mr. Rosen looked like he might say no, but he seemed to reconsider and nodded. "Yes sir."

"Good deal. Just send me the bill for whatever."

He left the funeral home and Olivia smiled at Mr. Rosen. "You'll have to excuse him. He's still processing things."

Mr. Rosen nodded. "Very uniquely I would say."

She turned to leave but Fitz reappeared in the doorway. "Damn near forgot. He is not to be buried in his plot beside my mother."

"Well…Mr. Grant…we don't have any other accommodations at this time." Fitz fully entered the room, quickly walking to tower over the funeral direction who took a step back. "But we can make them. Our grounds are incredibly spacious."

Fitz nodded. "I'd 'preciate that."

He turned to leave again and Olivia quickly followed. She gave him a pointed look in the car. "Why not just cremate him?"

"Cause I don't want his ashes. Let him rot in that hole for a while. It's plenty hot where he's going anyway. Might end up cremated after all."

xXxXx

Five Days Later - Saturday

Brevity was indeed key. The service was over so quickly that mourners were still arriving as the elder Grant was being lowered into the ground. Olivia was glad she and Fitz had to deliver the dead man's suit the night before or she might never have seen the man. Under the embalming fluid's bloat, she could see that the silver-haired man had once been handsome, probably looked a lot like Fitz with his work-tanned face and strong jaw. Fitz sat beside her, stone-faced, only giving a glimmer of a smile to relatives and old friends at the end of the service. She wasn't sure if he was grief-stricken or disconnected from the whole affair.

His blonde hummingbird of an aunt, clad in a white sundress and a large black hat, was at the end of the line. "You're coming to the repast, aren't you, Gerry?"

She was the first person Olivia had heard call Fitz by the name. He looked down at the little woman like he might say no but Olivia gave his hand a squeeze and he nodded. "Yes ma'am. We can only stay a little while though, Aunt Vi. We're supposed to be meeting the lawyer at 4."

She smiled, youth suddenly brightening her thin face. "I'm so glad. We hardly ever see you."

The drive to Eden Plantation wasn't long but for Olivia, the country roads stretched on forever, the smell of wildflowers thick in the air as they rode with the windows down. The property's gates were open and cars lined the road bordering them. Olivia's eyes widened as the sight of the sprawling white house. Four large bay windows bordered by blue shutters covered the front of the house, sitting above the wraparound porch. A white swing hung from a stately magnolia tree.

"It's like Gone With the Wind," Olivia commented as she got out of Fitz's truck.

"You should see it in the harvest season. It even smells like sugar out here." He took her hand as he led her up the walkway. "We grow apples and lemons around the cane. Used to grow watermelon too. And we got a little lake at the edge of the property. My great-granddaddy dug it himself."

A cool breeze blew and Olivia rubbed her bare arms. Fitz smirked as they climbed the house's creaking stairs. "I told you to bring a sweater but you sooner catch pneumonia than listen to me."

He took off his black blazer and wrapped his around her. Olivia rolled her eyes as she stuck her arms through the sleeves then rolled them up to free her hands. "I don't have a sweater that goes with this dress."

"Now just let me know soon as you're ready to go. I don't wanna be here any longer than we need to. I hate this place."

Olivia looked at him. "You don't have any good memories here?"

"Tons of me and Mama. We used to pick the apples and lemons, and make pies for the workers. And she taught me to slow dance right here on this porch. She was the life of this place. After she died, I never came back."

xXx

Fitz's aunt was a waif of a woman with thick black hair shining with silver strands. She grinned at Olivia as she pulled a pan of biscuits out of the oven. "Please don't think Fitz was hiding you by not bringing you down here before now. To tell the truth, he was hiding us."

"I figured he didn't like it here. He doesn't even have pictures," Olivia replied.

"This place has never been a favorite of his. He nearbout grew up at my place in town. That's where his mama and him would come every time she left Big Gerry. Once his mama—my baby sister—died, he packed up and never came back here. His father was a…difficult man. I always said Korea shell-shocked him, but maybe he was just a mean son of a bitch. Heaven only knows. He never even raised his voice to lil Gerry—you know how men are about their boys—but he'd beat my sister for breathing hard if he felt like it. And you've never seen a boy crazy about his mama like lil Gerry. When he got big enough to get in the middle—which for Gerry was probably 10—he started sticking up for his mama. Little as he was at that age, he'd stare Big Gerry down like looks could kill. Before she died, he'd raised enough hell to make Big Gerry just about leave Celia be." She smiled then, and Olivia could sense the pride in her voice, but it passed quickly, replaced by a frown.

She shook her head, her hair shimmying in shining waves. "But it was too late. She was a nervous wreck, jumping at her own shadow. It hurt to hug her cause she'd flinch like I was gonna hit her." She dropped her voice and glanced around to make sure the kitchen was still empty. "I never bought the story that Celia just…went in her sleep. Healthy as a horse and she just up and dies? Nah. She was just tired, I believe. Fighting with Big Gerry for twenty years, running away every other month just for him find her and bring her back here, fretting over Gerry hating his daddy… It took its toll. I've always believed she…you know. But we didn't want the gossip, and we were brought up Catholic to boot, so we just kept the story. Fitz was off on summer vacation with our folks in Alabama and we couldn't tell him…that. But he knew. And he blamed Gerry for it even to this day. So he left and never came back. Gerry took it hard, started drinking like a fish, but I never felt sorry for him. I bought my sister a pearl-handled revolver, told her to tell the sheriff I did it, but she wasn't that kind."

She shook her head again then looked at Olivia. "I ain't telling you this to spread our dirty laundry. I'm telling you cause that boy's got a heart bigger than the whole damn bayou and he told me he's head over heels for you. I make him call me every week, and you're all he talks about. God broke the mold with you, apparently. And I want you to know that he's got some dark places, places he ain't gonna show you. Just know it's not cause he's not crazy about you. It's cause he doesn't wanna look himself."

Olivia nodded, knowing her own dark places. "I understand. I love him so much I can hardly eat sometimes. But he's gonna drive me crazy sure as the clock's ticking."

"That sounds like my Gerry."

"What sounds like me?" Fitz asked as he walked into the kitchen.

Vi smiled. "Ain't I told you about being in ladies' business."

Fitz smirked. "Whatever. I just came to get some more chicken. We're watching the game."

He got his chicken, popping a quick kiss on Olivia's cheek, then left the kitchen.

xXx

Olivia found the women charming as they greeted her warmly, all of them asking Fitz why he hadn't brought her down from the city before. They reminded her of her grandmother as they fussed over sleepy, wandering children, making sure everyone had eaten. She even found herself saddled with a child, handed to her hastily while his pregnant mother waddled to the bathroom. He was an olive-skinned two-year-old named Blue who clutched a Barbie in his small fist. He wore a white dress shirt, black shorts, black knee socks, and black t-strap shoes with shining buckles that he was immensely proud of being able to snap himself.

He pointed at the pan of biscuits then looked at Olivia with his wide dark eyes. "Gimme?"

She smiled as she gave him a biscuit, thinking he'd be spoiled rotten in her house. He bit into the biscuit, slicking his cheeks with butter then held it to her mouth. "Want bite?"

She took a bite then turned to the window, looking out at the sprouts of sugar cane budding in the field. The little boy waved his doll in her face. "This is Vivian."

Olivia smiled. "She's pretty."

"Well ain't this a sight?" She looked up and Fitz stood a few feet away, smiling at her.

Olivia laughed. "His mama's in the bathroom. She just handed him over like I'm not a total stranger."

"Folks around here never met a stranger, unless they're from up north."

"So I see," Olivia replied. "He is cute though, probably what our babies'll look like."

Fitz smiled wider. "We're having babies, cher? Why didn't you tell me?"

Olivia smiled as she held up her left hand. "Didn't think I needed to."

"S'pose we could have a few. Don't know how my other girls'll feel about it."

Olivia's smile became a smirk. "They better feel like moving on before I get wind of 'em."

"Then you better tell all your boyfriends at the diner the same thing, cher."

She laughed. "I can't. They're how I afford those little sundresses you love so much."

Fitz nodded at the little boy as he lay his head on Olivia's shoulder. "Looks like you've got another."

"Never met anything he loved more than a woman," the mother said as she re-entered the kitchen. She and the little boy had the same olive skin and coily curls, hers pulled into a French braid. The little boy slipped from Olivia's arms onto the floor and took his mother's offered hand. She gave Fitz a friendly smile. "I'm real sorry about your daddy. He all but hand-planted my crops after that peckerwood sheriff finally arrested my husband for beating me. Helped me get Blue in a good preschool too."

Fitz blinked, unsure of what to make of the revelation about his father. He nodded. "Thank you for coming."

She waddled out of the kitchen and he gave Olivia a questioning look. She shrugged. "Old age does funny things to people."

Fitz shrugged too. "You ready to go? We've gotta get all the way to town to the lawyer's office."

They said their good byes then left the house. The town square looked like it hadn't been touched in 50 years, everything pristine but so out of date that Olivia half expected to find "Whites Only" signs in the windows. The lawyer's office was a small building nestled between a dry cleaners and a bakery.

"This place is like Mayberry," she commented as she got out of the truck.

"Everybody's been here their whole lives and tradition dies hard," Fitz answered.

"Maybe I should get back in the car before somebody tells the Klan I'm here."

"Half this town's half black like my mama. The other half is half Choctaw like Gerry. Far as I can remember, we've never had that kind of trouble here."

Olivia squinted at him. "So if your mama's half black and your daddy's half Indian, where'd they get such a pale-blue-eyed baby?"

Fitz shrugged. "My mama says I looked like her daddy. But everybody else says I look like Gerry so I don't know."

xXx

Olivia smirked as Fitz told the lawyer the same thing he'd told the funeral director. The large man seemed unfazed though, instead turning to Olivia with a wide grin. "Girl, you're pretty as new money. I bet you could smile the sugar right out the cane."

Olivia laughed as she shook his hand. "I'm Olivia. Pleased to meet you."

"Hollis Doyle. Much obliged." He held onto Olivia's left hand, whistling at the ring. "Well hot damn. Gibraltar's a mole hill compared to this rock. Hell, you can't even see where the Titanic hit it."

Fitz grinned as he wrapped his arm around Olivia. "You've been shooting the shit since I was in shorts. Aren't you tired?"

"Tired around a beautiful woman? Never," he replied as he sat down and gestured for them to do the same. "Now about this will."

Fitz cleared his throat and Hollis smirked. "You ain't too big to get the switch, but I'll oblige cause I want you to tell your auntie something good about me."

He scanned the page quickly then said, "He left a trust to the local women's shelter. 'Penance,' he calls it. The rest is yours: the house, the land, and his liquid assets amounting in $300,000."

"Oh my god," Olivia whispered, looking at Fitz. He looked as stunned as she felt, eventually getting up and leaving without a word. Olivia quickly thanked Mr. Doyle then hurried after him. He was already in the truck, staring listlessly at the road.

"Why would he leave me everything?" he asked when she climbed into the passenger's seat.

She remembered his aunt's story. "You're his son. Awful as he was, he loved you."

Fitz didn't respond, just drove back to New Orleans. They went to Olivia's apartment and she cooked him his favorite, lamb and rice. He ate without comment. When Olivia emerged from the bathroom after her shower, dressed for bed, she found her bed empty. She went to the living room and found him staring at the funeral program. They had used a wedding photograph of Big Gerry and Celia. Olivia could see that he did look very much like Fitz, and that Celia bore a striking resemblance to her sister. He finally tossed the program on the table and Olivia perched on his knee. "You coming to bed?"

He nodded but made no move to get up. Olivia ran her fingers through his hair. "Tell me what's on your mind, sunshine."

He looked at her and finally cracked a smile. "Don't talk like me, cher. You don't have the voice for it."

"I speak redneck just fine, thank you," she teased.

He laughed then lay his head on her shoulder. "I can't sell my mama's house. She loved Eden more than anything. Doing it up for the holidays got to be the only thing that made her smile. But I don't know nothing about running a farm. And I can't just leave here, leave you. And I can't drag you down there away from everything you know."

Olivia scratched his scalp the way he liked. "I think it'd be nice. Me and you dancing around that big porch, picking apples, skinny dipping in the lake. We can have the wedding right out back, reception too. Plus all that space for babies to run wild, catch lightning bugs and all that. It wouldn't be terrible."

Fitz sat up and looked at her. "You'd move out there with me?"

"Did you really think you could leave me behind?" She smiled.

Fitz grinned too. "I'm just wondering what my little city girl is gonna do all the way out in the boondocks. No wifi, no Starbucks, no boutiques full of those jeans you pour yourself into, or those tiny sundresses. How ever will you surivive, cher?"

"We can get wifi. And I can shop online. Maybe I'll make pies like Aunt Bea. Or keep getting pregnant, have babies spring up like daisies." Olivia laughed and caressed his face. "I think we'll do alright."

Fitz mulled it over for a few minutes. "I guess going until this season's over wouldn't hurt."

A/N: Don't forget to review! XOXOXO