I'm in fix mode. I don't care what Fitz says. He needs my help. I've been formulating a plan to minimize the damage and save what's left of Fitz's reputation.
"I'll put my ear to the ground," I say, putting on my shoes, "find out what I can about how the public is taking all this, how it's being messaged by the news anchors and pundits, and I'll get some intel on Mellie and what her next move is going to be. And then Cyrus and I—"
"No." Fitz's expression is stern as he knots his tie.
"Fitz—"
"No. You don't do anything. This is my problem. I made a decision and I'm going to deal with it." Fitz comes closer to me as he gets his jacket and I can't believe what I'm hearing. He doesn't want my help. "What?"
"What?" I ask.
"You have a look on your face."
"'Cause you are wrong."
"I am not wrong."
"I am very good at what I do. I am better at it than anybody else. That's not arrogance, that's fact. I am definitely better at it than your boys at the White House. You need me if you're going to survive this."
"Maybe. But you're not fixing or handling me anymore, Livvie. And if we are going to survive this, if you and I are going to make it together, you have to stand down."
"But—"
"Stand down. And wait for me to do this on my own." He puts his hands on either side of my face. "You are not in charge of everything." The kiss Fitz gives me is soft and sweet and I have no choice but to relent.
"Fine," I say.
I know what he needs is to do this on his own. And somehow, I have to let him. I don't want to do anything to jeopardize our future together. Our future together. The words fill me with pure, unadulterated joy. I don't know how I'm going to watch and wait by the sidelines, but I guess that's my problem to deal with.
The End