She checks once - twice, thrice - in the mirror. The last 365 days may have taken away her abs, but she's thankful they haven't touched her face. She brushes her hair - three inches shorter than they'd ever been before - until they look right.
"What time are they coming?" Will yells from the bathroom.
She smiles. Somewhere between drunken marriage and anniversary party - and then between the grand party and the most beautiful children on the planet - they've gone from passion to pregnant to parents.
Somewhere along the way, the hollering started.
"Ten minutes," she calls back. His lack of reply implies satisfaction.
After last year's fanfare (and her mom's unceasing gushing), they've opted for something a lot more intimate and a lot more low key this time.
"You sure they can handle two?" Her husband steps out of the bathroom - shirt half-buttoned and slacks pulled up tight. Just a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror is enough to get her warm, wet, and slutty.
They've had their ups and downs in the past year - heated quarrels and equally-heated make-up sex. Her husband isn't perfect, but she's always ready to admit he's maintained his impeccable packaging.
"I've taught Jane all the basics," she assures - then checks her image in the mirror one last time. Despite it being a last-minute buy, the red silk does shape her well. She tugs a few more strands of her hair into place. He's always said he likes it down.
"Should I really leave them to Charlie? He's not the most - alert."
She laughs at his word choice. Lili and Gigi - ever united - start cooing in the other room. She turns around, strides over, pats Will's shoulder, and glides fluidly into the nursery.
"Not giving Mommy a night off, are we?" She leans over each crib in turn - always taking care to start from alternate sides to be fair. A few pats and kisses each settle them down. They learned about the twins at their second doctor's visit. She and Will took turns hyperventilating before they actually liked the idea. Lili and her brown head of hair said hello to the world first before Gigi's bright red locks (hello, recessive genes) took her turn. She's never been as in love with Will as the moment he cradled the tiny babies up to her, one in each arm.
According to him, her sweaty, screamy, crazy look in the delivery room made him feel likewise.
It's been a while since he's been as expressive with his feelings - but, hey, maybe tonight's break from wailing babies would evoke a little more tenderness from him again.
"He's here!" Will announces at the sound of a car pulling up. She can hear him pulling his suit jacket on.
"Give me a minute," Lizzie calls back. She gives a few more lingering glances at her precious little bundles of love. It's their first night out, unchaperoned, since the two bundles were born. Jane's coming later, but Charlie's handling the first shift alone.
Despite all her assurances, she is a tiny bit nervous.
"I'll back out the car," Will hollers.
"Okay," she replies.
Neither girls are asleep - but both are surprisingly cooperative as they look up with their bottomless eyes, saggy dark circles and all.
Lizzie smiles.
"Hey, any last-minute instructions?" Charlie pops in with his voice.
Lizzie turns and offers a friendly smile. "Don't break up with my sister?"
Charlie drops his smile instantly. He looks down at his feet. "Lizzie, I know I hurt her before. There really was no reason - "
"Yes, I'm kidding." Lizzie laughs. Celebrating their second anniversary seems to make her feel more light-hearted than she's felt in months.
"Jane's coming in an hour," Charlie offers. "I'm sure she knows what to do."
"Don't starve them before then."
"I won't. They have Darcy's appetite."
Lizzie smiles at the comment. Where excitement and discovery reigned their first year, a quiet domesticity has been holding on to their second. Who knew tender Darcy, and hungry Darcy, and frazzled, fatherly Darcy existed?
"You and Jane would make great ones too, you know," she says for no reason.
"And we're not waiting long after the wedding," her brother-to-be replies with a grin. "We hit our 100 days recently."
"A hundred - oh, right." She smiles. With just three months to go until their big day, Jane is still being a pretty serene bride.
"And I'll never back out for the world," Charlie adds, sadness all over his voice and face.
For a moment, Lizzie's not sure what to say.
"I never should have listened to Darcy, you know?" Charlie mutters. Lizzie frowns. The kids' godfather doesn't seem to see her. "Sure, he sounded like he made sense and all - but it's not like he was right."
"About - Jane?" She says tentatively.
"Yeah, I mean. He never met her until then, and I can't expect him to know better than someone who's actually known her. I'm lucky Jane said yes when I talked to her again."
"Mm hmm."
"He called me six months after your wedding," Charlie goes on, carried away. "It was the final shove I needed to get back with your sister."
Outside their apartment, her husband honks the car horn.
Lizzie makes sure she sighs gently - just a stream of air through her lips. "My husband told you to get back with Jane?"
"Well, yeah - because he was the one who told me to stop dating her. It was just right that he should have - " Charlie looks up, meeting her eye for the first time. Suddenly, the open, happy gaze is completely eradicated, replaced by a shellshocked look.
Charlie's lips quiver.
Lizzie gulps.
"Lizzie, I never meant to tell you. I - "
"My husband broke you up with Jane?" Lizzie echoes. Her hands start to clench.
Miraculously, her sister's fiancé looks even more contrite than he did a moment ago. "Lizzie, I'm sorry. I promised Darcy I would never men - "
"It's fine." She shrugs it off suddenly. Charlie turns to look at Lili, who's beginning to complain.
Lizzie blinks, suddenly feeling the true weight of this unexpected conversation.
How long had they agreed to stay married again?
The car horn beeps. She gives a few last instructions to Charlie - and walks out in a daze.
"They were adamant, of course, that I couldn't do it." Across from her, across dozens of plates and silverware and candles, her husband rants away. "Ms. Knowles called it a delusion, and Mr. Crane said it was the most ridiculous idea he ever heard. And Spitzer - man, can you believe it? He insulted me and said that I would never make it big in the corporate world. I mean, I know I'm worth more than that - but it's still annoying to hear people doubt it. It's just - they're the ones who are ridiculous. You don't think they - Lizzie?"
She starts, suddenly sitting two inches taller than she did a moment ago.
He frowns. "You weren't listening - were you?"
It takes her two full seconds to wet her lips and reply. "I was."
"No, you weren't." He looks both angry and hurt. "Lizzie, you've been like this all night. What's up? I thought you wanted this?"
"Uhm, yeah." She looks down at her plate. The lobster, despite the beautiful cook, sits untouched.
"Lizzie." He's still frowning, still not buying it. He reaches over with one of his large arms. She doesn't meet his hand, nor his eyes.
She hears him sigh. She knows he's frustrated.
The thing is, she is too.
"Lizzie." His tone turns impatient, demanding. She frowns down at her lap.. "Is this one of your episodes?"
"Episodes?" She looks up a bit. It's hard to prevent tears from clustering in her eyes.
"I mean - well, yeah." He props his elbows on the table. Then her lowers his head until he's able to run a hand through his hair. "It's our anniversary - alright? Let's be nice, hormones or not."
"Nice," she echoes hollowly. Her recent realization taunts her in the mind - dancing like a savage madman.
"Lizzie, you've been preoccupied all night. Is it the food? Is it the table? I worked hard to get us this reserva - "
"Why did you break up Charlie and Jane?" Suddenly, she keeps no prisoners - meets him right in the eye. He stills. He's shocked too.
He blinks thrice before talking, "Look, I can explain."
"You broke them apart. You caused Jane's broken heart and fatal depression!" It's hard to keep her voice soft. All the trust they've built over the last twenty-four months begin to tumble, fall, and break.
"It wasn't fatal, okay? She recovered! And they're together again. Who on earth told you - "
"So the end justifies the means?" She glares at him. The indignation in her blood keeps simmering. "Suddenly, all that heartache is okay because you somehow got them together?"
"Lizzie, it's all in the past - okay? Why you would - " He groans. Then he runs his hand through his hair again. She sees him frowning, inhaling, then exhaling. He opens his eyes five seconds later. "It's our anniversary. Let's not fight."
The fact that he seems to assume she can stop the fighting makes her even angrier.
"Just because it's a special day doesn't mean you didn't do it."
"Our special day, as you so eloquently put it, sees your sister and Charlie engaged. Why is this still a problem?"
"If you hadn't broken her heart, she wouldn't have had to go through all that pain. Vegas would've been happy, a celebration."
"And you wouldn't have met me." His tone suddenly sounds final. She takes a moment to look at his face - and all its byronic glory.
The waiters bustling around them in impeccable tuxedos don't seem to notice the brewing storm.
"Do you regret marrying me?" He asks first - growls, really. His hands clench the side of their laden table. She swallows. "Lizzie?"
"You shouldn't have broken them up."
"I did. I fixed it. Can we move on now?" Somewhere between the anger and the guilt - a sliver of sadness peeks through his gaze.
"I - we - " Lizzie frowns. Whatever intentions she may have carried onto their table earlier tonight - she's forgotten them now. Sure, they've fought recently. Not a month passes by when they don't.
But those fights were never like this - no undercurrent so strong, no stakes so high.
Suddenly, she doesn't even know what her goal in all of this is.
She sees her husband - her incorrigible husband - open his mouth as if to speak and close it again.
It happens thrice.
"You shouldn't be so controlling," she says after their breathing softens. Her right hand nudges at her unused fork.
"Alright," he replies. "I won't."
For a moment, she wishes the table and waiters and other guests don't exist. All she wants is to run towards him, bury herself in his arms, and kiss their sorrows away. Their eyes meet tentatively - then warmly. There's always a heightened intimacy after every quarrel.
"But I draw the line at Wickham," he adds.
Then her little demon takes over.
"Are you kidding me?" She shrieks. The old couple to their right looks at her. She doesn't care. "I can be friends with whomever I want!"
"He's not safe! Anyone with common sense can see that he - "
"So I don't have common sense? I am the dumb one here?"
"He's - he has a record. I know you met him at work or some other safe place and have a great impression. But I know the real him."
"He's a great guy."
"Yes, maybe he seems that way."
"But why wouldn't he be? He's a kind, generous man!" She demands. Her husband - man of reason - has always seemed to have an irrational side.
The words George Wickham seems to always bring that side out.
"I know what he's done before."
"What?" She folds her hands and pulls back. There are days when she's sure she knows better than her husband - despite the eight-year gap and all. Men can be such children.
"I'm not at liberty to disclose what he - "
"So nothing then - nothing." She humphs. She watches his eyes turn from open and warm to harsh and stony. "And you somehow want me to stop being friends with one of the nicest men in the world?"
"He's a villain."
"He's my friend, you jealous nincom - "
She stops herself, though she's not sure why.
They've drawn enough attention to have thoroughly destroyed their own dinner - and another dozen people's. There have been fights they've resolved. There have been fights they've just ignored.
This one - they keep going back to.
"Check please," Darcy hollers - and the waiter doesn't dare disobey.
He strolls indoors two minutes after she dashes in. It takes two harsh shoves for the front door to close.
He always knew a suburban home was a bad idea.
It was all her.
"Hey, Lizzie - you guys are back early." Bingley's voice is distinct. Darcy frowns harder. His fingers curl and unfurl repeatedly in rapid succession.
"Oh yeah. Dinner was - a little pointless." The careless way Lizzie answers, even outside of his view, is hurtful.
Darcy - angry, hurt, confused - tumbles on to the couch that his wife had picked for them. It's too low for him - too beige, too old-fashioned. All she had to do was put that twinkle into her beguiling eyes, and he just gave in.
Has he always been such a doormat?
Hasn't he given her enough of what she wants?
The fact that, despite his best efforts into making the marriage work, she still wants to be friends with Wickham is baffling to him. It's betrayal - treachery.
"Are you sure you guys don't need any more time?" Bingley's half-talking to Lizzie, half-talking to him as he's ushered into the living area.
Darcy tries to scowl a little less hard just for a few seconds.
"Darce, Jane hasn't even made it yet. Do you need - "
"No, it's fine. Thanks for your help," Darcy bites. It's hard not to frown at the angry, saucy look Lizzie is sending his way from behind their friend and babysitter.
"Okay, if you say so. Really, though, I can help anytime. I've never disliked kids, and I - "
"Charlie, just go." It's Lizzie who speaks.
Maybe she's as impatient to resolve this never-ending fight as he is.
Neither of them move as Bingley - looking very confused - shuffles his way out to his car.
Then, it's just them.
In the background, Lili and Gigi make a few cooing sounds. The sounds are usually cute.
Right now, they're not.
"Lizzie," he starts, proud of himself for offering an olive branch, "this is not okay."
She glares back his way, arms folded. Her sweet motherly instincts aren't in control tonight.
Darcy swallows. "I've tried not to care about all your other artsy colleagues, okay? But Wickham's bad for you. You know that."
She scoffs now, and she rolls her eyes.
His gut tells him this isn't over.
"And who is to say he's bad for me?" She questions. Her curves are on full display when she leans against the wall like this.
But this is not the time.
Darcy feels his frown harden. "I don't know what you think about strange, flattering men - but he's dangerous and he's - "
"Strange, flattering men like you?" She scowls. She's not inching closer, not like the times when she knows she's at least a little bit wrong. "I married you in less than 24 hours, didn't I? I know I'm a good judge of character."
Now it's his turn to scoff, loudly. "You got lucky you met me at the bar. The average man isn't as kind and gentlemanly, and you can't expect - "
"Oh, so lucky to marry you, huh?" He sees her eye glisten a little. "So that you can be kind and gentlemanly enough to ban my social choices?"
"I haven't banned you from anything!"
"Oh - nothing except George Wickham." Her voice takes on a sing-song, mocking quality.
He fumes. Two shoves and he's off his chair, pacing.
She stays put. One of the girls starts to cry.
Then Lizzie starts to cry.
This time, it's not the tender, cute sort.
He stops in front of her, chest heaving. "I'm trying to protect you."
"I'm trying to be myself. Is there so much harm in that?" She challenges him. He wonders if she means what she says.
"Being yourself means being an artist," he barters. "It means living your life, and I've tried my best to let you do that."
"Uh huh." She looks away from him.
"Lizzie - "
"But you draw the line at my having any guy friends?" She asks hollowly.
He closes his eyes. "Just Wickham."
"Because you're afraid he's better than you?" She whips her face back towards him. There's a manic, incredulous edge to her voice. "I won't cheat on you, you know?"
Maybe because he finds her even considering the possibility offensive, or maybe because she made similar sounds earlier - but, for one reason or another - he scoffs and says. "Uh huh."
"I won't!" She pushes him. He falls back a couple of steps. The tears stream freely down her face now. "I married you, maybe against my better judgment, but I'm not gonna let anyone make me unfaithful."
"You know what I'm saying is right. Lizzie, you - "
"You broke up Jane and Charlie," she screams. He belatedly realizes she's been walking backwards, away from him, for the last five seconds. "You ban me from the only real friend I have from work. I moved to California for you. I gave birth to our babies. I put my life on hold because you made me promise to live yours for two years."
The fact that this quarrel is happening on this exact day brings tears to his eyes too.
"I never asked you to do those things," he mumbles. It's a lie, because he knows he has - just a little.
"I gave up real things for you." She sniffs. Her hand is on the doorway of the girls' room now.
In his heart, he knows he should explain. He knows he should tell her exactly why Wickham is dangerous. He can even ask for forgiveness - for ever thinking he can hide the fact that he was the one to break up her sister and his friend.
His pride says, "Well, I did too."
She groans, sniffing and sobbing, and runs past him into their bedroom. He watches, with blind, open eyes, as she extracts a suitcase from the closet, dumps a roll of clothes inside, snatches her wallet, grabs her phone, and runs back towards the nursery to take Gigi from her crib.
Surprise, shock, and incredulity glue him in place as she hauls everything she's collected outside - and waits on the sidewalk until an Uber picks her up - presumably for somewhere far away from home.
Two hours later, he collapses beside Lili's crib.
Both father and daughter cry.
Fourteen hours after she barged into the backseat of her pitch-black Uber, she stands at the foot of the strange, familiar building. Her left arm rocks a crying Gigi. Her right hand fumbles for the long-unused key. Jane isn't home, but the apartment should still be intact.
Lizzie sniffs - thrice per step - as she struggles her way up the narrow, NYC stairway - luggage and baby in tow.
Gigi's blanket smells of airplane. Lizzie knows her own hair does too.
She tries to remember, and tries to forget. Each piece of furniture greeting her cries out about a life before Las Vegas, before William Darcy.
She barely has time to slide Gigi down on the couch before she tumbles on to the floor herself.
She swears to start fresh. She swears to move on.
Crying in the middle of the night in a godforsaken apartment - sweaty, aching, empty, and burnt - she wonders if she ever really could.
A/N: Sorry to burst the bubbles! If it's any comfort, this chapter was the absolute hardest to write, though it was necessary that it exist for us to get to know Lili and Gigi eventually. Here ends the first act. The next chapter will see our characters after a decisive time jump. I hope you're still on board for this story!