Epilogue
"Daddy! Tell Rayna it's my turn to pick out a movie this week!"
"Baby, why don't you let her pick she's the guest. You can pick tomorrow night."
"But Dad! I'm s'posed to pick. We had to watch Little Mermaid already."
She can't help the grin on her face as she stands outside the apartment door belonging to her former partner, the muffled voices inside filtering out into the hallway.
She forces away the grin for the most part before she raises her knuckles to the door, rapping three times, and instantly hearing commotion on the other side after she does so.
Footsteps resound against the wooden apartment floor and then she hears the clinking of locks as Elliot releases the latch.
The door swings open and slowly, the grin forms again on her mouth.
He looks in disarray but he's never been more adorable. He's in his sweatpants which have ridden halfway up his shins, his dark blue, long sleeved t-shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows with a powdery substance smeared across his chest.
She assumes it's from his attempt to get an early start on their dinner.
In her hands, she holds the salad she's made and the bottles of hotsauce for their hot wings are in the bag tucked close to her body by her elbow.
She glances down at her offerings before glancing back up at Elliot's form standing in the doorway, one hand on the door and the other holding onto a spatula.
"I uh, I brought the salad and sauces," she offers sheepishly watching as he moves to let her in with a quirk of his eyebrow.
"Thanks. I'm glad you could make it. I guess you can tell, I was trying to get an early start so we could be eating by the time the game started."
"Trouble?"
"Eli and his cousin Rayna are with me this weekend. Kath's sister lets them spend time together since they're the same age."
"Ah," Olivia assents as she follows Elliot into the kitchen. She places the bag with the several small bottles of hot sauce on the counter and walks the large plastic bowl of salad to the refrigerator. "You need help?"
"Nah, I just need to finish breading these legs for the kids and then they're ready to go into the oven."
"Breaded chicken? I'm impressed, El. I've never taken you for a homemade kinda guy," she quips as she stands with her back against the counter.
"You'd be surprised, Liv. Maureen bought me a cook book as part of my house warming, or should I say, apartment warming present. Eli and I have gotten about halfway through it already."
She laughs softly as she crosses her arms over her chest and glances to her left where the living room is located.
Eli and his cousin sit quietly as they watch a yellow talking sponge motion to his buddy Patrick on screen. She smiles and turns back to Elliot who's wiping his hands with a dishtowel and staring at her with a inquiring look.
"What?"
"You look different."
She glances down at herself self consciously, wondering if she'd accidentally forgotten some part of her clothing. She's wearing a pair of tight legged jeans and a t-shirt with a loose fitting cardigan over it.
The February air is unusually warm so she'd forgone a jacket and just grabbed her sweatshirt that rests beside her on his counter, having taken it off as soon as she'd put the salad in the fridge .
His voice snaps her out of her thoughts.
"No, I mean, in a good way. I mean...," he stumbles over his words as he takes a few short steps closer to her. "I mean, from the first time I saw you almost a year ago, you've changed. You look... lighter."
She breathes in a rush of air, taking in his closer proximity and turns her head slightly to the side, glancing around him at the wings and legs for the kids, and then back at his face.
Giving him a short smile, she puts her thumbs in her pant pockets before moving around him, speaking at the same time.
"Well, I've got a lot reasons to be," she offers vaguely as she picks up the baking sheet full of chicken and opens the oven door. After she carefully places it in the oven, she closes the door and glances back at him.
He takes her place with his back against the kitchen counter, his arms folded across his chest as he watches her.
"I'm glad," he nods. "I, uh. I preheated it, so we should be eating just as the game starts. I have appetizers in the living room. I should go make sure the two minions in there haven't gotten ahold of them yet," he smirks as he reaches for the towel in her hands.
His fingers brush against hers and she smiles as a shiver runs through her.
"I'll go check on them," she nods toward the two who are super quiet after all the commotion she'd heard while standing outside his apartment door.
He smirks and nods as he opens a cabinet behind him, pulling out two large glass mugs. "Beer?" he questions as she walks past him.
She stops just beyond the kitchen entry and stares at the matching glasses.
She looks up to him, feeling herself smiling again for a reason she's not privvy to quite yet, though she thinks it might be because he has two beer mugs in his cabinet with the super bowl insignia printed across the front of them that he's stashed away for this day in particular.
She aquiesces with a nod before speaking.
"Yeah. I'll have some," she answers over her shoulder as she makes her way to the living room. She barely catches the crooked smile on his lips as he takes the glasses over to the ice box and she hears the clinking of the glass on the counter as she retreats to the living room.
Two little sets of eyes stare at the television set as they lay on opposite ends of the couch.
She decides to sit in the middle and it's not long before Eli sits up and wraps his now eight year old arms around her neck in a quiet embrace.
"Hey buddy," she whispers and wraps her arms around him in return. "How are you doin' today?"
"I'm good. Dad said you were coming over today so me and Rayna had to clean up the living room this morning before you came over. We had a sleepover. Right Rayna?"
"Yeah," the tiny voice of the little girl filters out as she glances at Olivia with a small smile before turning her focus back on the screen.
"That's good," Olivia offers, lightly poking the eight year old in his stomach with her index finger playfully. "I'm glad you're helping your daddy out."
"Yeah, he's been busy cooking all morning. He baked brownies too but he wouldn't let me have any."
Olivia's head raises with that information and she glances over her shoulder at Elliot who's still in the kitchen. This time he's got a party tray in front of him with different cheeses and sliced meat on it. He's cutting summer sausage and she assumes he put their beers in the icebox for now. She pats Eli on his bottom and goes to stand up before the young boy's voice gains her attention again.
"He said there's gotta be enough for everybody if we're going to make it through the whole superbowl game. I told him I eat a lot," the curly-haired boy quips. "I'm eight," he shrugs as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
Olivia laughs and shakes her head as she makes her way back to the kitchen again. She peeks over Elliot's shoulder and he moves it in front of her to shield what he's doing.
"Ah, no. You're the guest, Liv."
"Come on, Elliot, you let me help with the chicken," she pleads lightly. "And you already have a tray in there. You need this too?"
"Yeah," he quips as he glances over his shoulder. "Eli's a growing boy, you heard him," he chuckles as he puts the knife down and slides the tray in front of her.
"So are the girls and Dickie coming over too?"
He stands still for a moment looking at the left over packaging from the sausage he just cut up before answering.
"Ah," he scratches his bottom lip with his thumbnail before walking the discarded packaging to the trash. "Nah, they couldn't make it. They all had their own plans with their friends. It's just us. You, me, Eli and Rayna. I'm taking her back home after the game."
She nods slowly and looks around the small kitchen, taking in everything before she slowly brings her gaze back to his figure standing in the middle. She lets his words sift through her mind before she subtly changes the subject, not wanting to get into the meaning of all the effort he's putting into this gathering between them.
"So..., this is the new pad huh? I like it."
He chuckles softly before leaning his hip on the counter in front of her. "Yeah, I finally got all the boxes unpacked about two months ago. I think I finished getting Eli's room done the night before we..." he trails off.
"The night you came over to my new place for dinner?"
"Right," he nods as he lowers his head slightly, scratching the back with his hand. "How's that going for you. The new place?"
"It's good," she answers. "A little quiet now. But I'm used to it."
"How's Brian?"
"Uh, as far as I know he's doing great. He took the job with IAB in Staten Island and he lives closer to his mother now. She's a nice lady."
He nods and picks at an imaginary spot on the smooth surface of the counter.
"What's it like living where you are? It's gotta be different than your old apartment building."
"It works. It's not exactly my style but I feel better there than in the other one now."
"I can imagine."
"Yeah. Just the ghosts and things."
Elliot nods and she sees his neck bob as he swallows nervously, seemingly trying to think of what he should say.
"I guess, what I should be asking is, are you happy?"
"Oh I am. I'm happy to be living normally again. I feel like I'm back to being somewhat functional on my own. It wasn't easy after everything."
Elliot simply nods and steps closer to her, and she feels his proximity before seeing his shadow touch hers on the linoleum kitchen floor.
"I uh, I'd like to keep our dinner dates going…and instead of your place next time, we could have it here. If you haven't heard, I've taken a penchant to homemade cooking," he rasps with humor lining his voice.
She laughs softly in reply and raises her eyes to his, slowly stepping closer to him whispering into his air, "I agreed to come to your superbowl party, let's not get ahead of ourselves here," she teases. "Plus, I kinda like my kitchen. It's bigger," she quips over her shoulder as she reaches for a piece of cheese from off the tray.
He huffs out in mock hurt. "You had to bust my balls for the size of my kitchen. Ouch."
She smirks around the food in her mouth before motioning around them.
"I like it, I told you," she mumbles. Swallowing, she adds, "Home is where the heart is. Apparently, the heart of your home is your kitchen and it's… small."
He stands stoic for a second, towel in his hands as he processes her words, a small grin on his lips, no doubt playing around with her wording in his head.
"Oh so it's true? Size doesn't matter?"
She stops mid bite not expecting that exactly, but knowing him, she has to play along.
"Oh yeah...," she offers playfully, a teasing tone in her voice. "Every girl's dream is for a guy to cook for her in the smallest kitchen possible as long as he actually has a bigger... heart," she rasps before popping another piece of summer sausage into her mouth.
She leaves him staring at her open mouthed, hands dangling at his sides. She laughs softly as she nods toward a hallway just off of the kitchen that she assumes leads to his bathroom.
"I'm going to go wash up."
"Last door on your left," he mutters with an amused sarcasm.
"Got it," she retorts over her shoulder as she makes her way down the hall.
. . .
"Daddy can we have some brownies yet?"
"Not yet Bud, you gotta have some real food first okay? I don't want your mom getting mad at me for letting you eat nothing but sweets since you've been here."
"Allllright," the young boy gives in, sitting back with his small arms wrapped across his chest.
Elliot sits back, rubbing the top of his son's curly hair and watches the cartoon movie on the screen.
A few moments pass before Eli speaks again.
"Did 'Livia have some brownies yet," he persists and the corner of Elliot's mouth tips upwards.
"No, not yet."
"You made them for her though, because she was coming over?"
"I made them for everyone, Eli. I just made extra because she was coming over, that's all," Elliot offers as he nudges his youngest son with his shoulder.
Olivia stands quietly against the wide doorframe taking in the scene before her.
She'd gotten done in the bathroom minutes ago and had realized Elliot wasn't in the kitchen anymore.
Watching him now makes her realize how much she's missed over the years. She hadn't always seen him interact with this kids but she's always known he's always tried his best to have a good relationship with them all.
It amazes her how close he and his youngest are. The sweet little boy obviously adores his father and the fact that the boy witnessed his father baking does something to her internally.
She makes her way back to the kitchen where the smell of chicken permeates the air.
She goes to take the oven mitt off the counter next to the stove when he lightly grasps her arm. She halts her movement to look at him curiously, not having heard him get up from the couch or make his way in behind her.
His hold loosens but his hand moves down her arm and toward her hand. He lightly grasps it and tugs her toward him.
"I told you, Liv. You're the guest," he smiles around a shit-eating grin.
She grins in response and he pulls her even closer while opening his mouth if to continue but he doesn't, instead, he just lets his hand move from her wrist to rest just above her hip bone.
With that, he pulls her, without any resistance on her part, the rest of the way against him, her chest lightly bumping into his as she raises her palms to brace herself.
Her palms land on his upper chest, the solid muscle a lot less intimidating than one would think. Instead, he's warm and firm and solid and... everything she's always wondered about.
She swallows and glances up at him, wondering when he got the courage to play around with her like this. His lips are tipped to one side as he lets his other hand fall down to her other hip.
Gooseflesh forms under her clothing and she's wondering if she should come up with some snarky quip about what he's doing but he makes the next move before she has a chance.
He swiftly turns them around, guiding her by the hips until her lower back is pressed into the kitchen island. His body follows suit and he's pressed firmly into her, his breaths hitting her cheek before she realizes her eyes have closed.
She feels him everywhere. His warm palms still singe her skin around her hip bones, his stomach is pressed into hers and his chest lightly grazes her now hardened nipples.
Her voice is a rasp against her throat when she speaks, "The game on yet?"
His breaths continue to hit her cheek even harder when he leans down to whisper into her ear.
"Not until another half an hour. The pre-game comes on in a few minutes. Lots of time still."
She's not sure if this is reality or some fantasy she's concocted while she'd been dreamily watching him cook from the kitchen bar.
But the octave of his voice sends shivers through her and reminds her just how real this is as it filters into her ear again as one of his warm palms glides up her back and onto the back of her neck.
"Olivia," he starts. Her eyes are barely open and she's not fighting this. Hell it's been a year exactly since that day at the courthouse and a little over six months since they've been getting together as friends. But a little lunch here and a dinner date there never prepared her for the intensity of his gaze, and heat and body on hers right now.
"Yes?" she huffs out drowzily as he rubs the underside of her hair line with his thick fingers.
"I'm ..." he hesitates before pressing his cheek against hers as he searches for an explanation. The electricity flying between them at the moment is more than apparent to both of them and unbelievably unpredicted.
She'd always know they had it between them but for it to flare up in this moment is something she wasn't prepared for but she's not against it, not one bit.
"El..."
"I want to kiss you," he breathes out. "But I don't wanna scare you," he offers sincerely, his worry and adrenaline somehow infiltrating her veins.
Her breath catches and she finds herself navigating her hands around his chest for a moment before gaining feeling in them again and wrapping them around his neck.
She slowly opens her eyes and pulls her head away from his cheek for a moment, then she locks eyes with him before looking down at his chest.
When she looks back up, a million thoughts as to why they shouldn't do this cross her mind, they've been her mantra for all the years she's known him.
And as she looks past him at his tiny kitchen inside of his small apartment in Manhattan, cookbook laying half open on the counter a part of her brian tells her that, even after all this time, she still needs those excuses. But in a more conscious part of her brain, something hits her.
There's nothing standing in their way - he's a free man and he wants to kiss her. It's been six months of getting to know each other again and who the hell is she to deny him what he wants? What she wants?
She blinks slowly then furrows her brows before lifting one up surreptitiously.
"I'm not going to bullshit you, Elliot. I've... we've been through some terrible shit together. Seen some of the worst people can do... that scares me. You kissing me sure as hell isn't on that list though."
His eyes search hers and then he lifts one of his hands and pushes the hair back behind her ear.
A small grin then forms on his face as his index finger lingers around the crease of her eye.
His eyes dip to her lips and back to her eyes again.
She swallows as she takes him in once more. All of him.
He catches her gaze just before his eyes find her mouth again and she doesn't knows what air is when his lips press against hers. Her fingers grip the back of his neck and he's inching his body even closer to hers and she doesn't think they can get any closer.
She slowly opens her mouth to him. His breaths hitting her mouth as he comes in for more. His hands both find their place at her hips again and she imagines he's willing himself to behave because the strain on his sweatpants isn't fooling anyone nor does she really care.
She presses in and kisses him back and he turns his head, capturing her lips at a different angle. His tongue darts out and tastes her bottom one before capturing it in between his.
She feels herself floating with each touch. She feels the nerve endings vibrating inside of her, coming alive in places that she'd long ago thought lost.
She thinks for a second about the man she's been in love with for the better part of a decade.
Laughing to herself, she quickly comes to realize something.
Not only can the man bake, but he can kiss like he's in the middle of a damn romance movie.
His lips press against her several times, light brushes and pecks and she feels her knees go weak as she grips the shoulders of his shirt.
Reluctantly, he pulls his upper body away, breathing hard but he doesn't move the rest of himself away, his stomach pressing against hers with every labored breath.
"I'm going to get the chicken out now."
His eyes are glossy and he's the cutest thing she's ever seen. His lips are red and moist and his face is flushed. His hair line is still receding but goddamn if he isn't the epitome of boyish charm. She sees his eyes scan her face and body and watches him realize how tightly they're pressed together.
He flushes in front of her as he recognizes what's touching her upper thigh.
He clears his throat and stands back.
Running a hand down the back of his head, he stammers as he tries to explain his sudden arousal away.
"I'm... I'm sor-"
"Elliot," she smirks, raising her index finger to his lips. She silently steps closer to him and swipes away the lingering moisture with her thumb. "Just... get the chicken out. I'll get the salad," she offers him; giving him a break because there's no way in hell they weren't equally turned on.
He nods accepting her peace offering. She takes in the view of his ass as he bends over and opens the oven door with his one oven mitt on. She grins again and shakes her head as she goes to retrieve the bowl of salad.
She breathes in deeply, filling her lungs with the mixture of his scent and the smell of chicken wings and thinks that she hasn't felt this light in years.
The air slowly escapes her lungs and she can't help but think of how eager she is to breathe more of this in.
. . .
The game is over but the night is still young as Elliot walks over to the door and slides his jacket on.
"Thanks for sitting with Eli while I take Rayna home, Liv. Like you said, I'd hate to wake him up."
Olivia smiles as she watches the young boy hunched over the arm of the couch as he sleeps, not having made it half way through the football game.
"No problem, El. We'll be waiting here when you get back," she offers, making sure to let him know she's not going anywhere.
"Alright, come on Rayna, your mom is expecting ya kiddo."
"Bye, Olivia," the small, tired voice comes out, the girl having almost fell asleep herself as the game went on. "Tell, Eli I said bye, Uncle Elliot?"
"Yeah, I'll tell him when he wakes up. He'll understand."
"Okay, bye again, 'Livia."
"Bye sweetheart," Olivia responds as she brushes Eli's hair away from his forehead as she sits with him on the couch, watching Elliot and his ex-wife's niece leave.
She sits with Eli an hour while Elliot drives Rayna back home to Queens.
She's dozing off herself at quarter till ten when she feels something warm wrap around the back of her shoulders.
She instinctively looks down to see Eli still sound asleep next to her, his head still resting on the arm of the couch.
Looking to her left, she smells his scent before turning her gaze to see Elliot perched next to her.
His arm is behind her head on the back of the couch and his side barely touches her as his head lies back against the cushions, eyes closed.
He speaks without opening them or moving his head.
"You want me to take you home. Looks like everyone's still full of food and worn out," he grins but still not opening his eyes.
She shifts a little on the couch and turns slightly in his direction, looking at his face that's lined with the slightest of wrinkles.
He still looks amazing for his age and finds herself again marveling at him. Wondering when it was that she found herself so unbelievably fascinated by his charm and presence.
She lifts her hand gingerly and places it on his stomach hesitantly, letting the heat of his skin seep through his shirt and onto her palm.
"Trying to get rid of me already," she whispers against his shoulder.
His head slowly, timidly pops up off of the back of the couch before he turns it toward her, his eyes opening and catching hers as she looks up at him at the same time.
"No," he utters, swallowing at the words leave his mouth. "I'm not trying to get rid of you at all. I'm actually wondering what I have to do to keep you here longer," he admits freely, with a small grin on his lips.
She turns her head fully into his shoulder, hiding her face briefly, not knowing what to say but insanely pleased by his words.
She runs her hands from his stomach up to his chest and looks up at the same time.
"I'm in no hurry," she offers. "I'm kinda comfortable. What do you have in mind for the rest of the night?"
He shifts on the couch and moves the hand from behind her head to his leg and rubs it up and down his thigh before motioning to the television.
"We could uh, you could stay after I put Eli to bed. Then we could watch a movie, if you want," he says shyly.
It's her turns to swallow back nerves but it's not the type preventing her from functioning, it's the kind that make her anticipate each move he makes and each word he speaks and each breath of air he inhales.
Her answer is out of her mouth before she has a chance to think of an excuse why not to.
"Yeah," she nods, patting his chest as she sits up slightly, turning to him again with her hand now on his shoulder. "I can do that," she offers turning her head to the side as she catches his eye. "Why don't you put him to bed now and I'll pick the movie."
His neck bobs as a smile small cross his features as he reluctantly goes to stand.
She watches the contours of his body move with each of his stretches and groans and she finds herself moving with him.
She stands up too and they find themselves standing awkwardly next to each other before she points with her head toward the movie rack next to his big screen.
"I'll go see what you have."
"Okay, " he agrees. "Come on buddy, time for bed," he mumbles as he picks up his son's hand. The young boy's eyes barely open but he obeys his father's orders and follows his father down the hallway toward his bedroom.
Olivia peruses the movie section of his shelf for long minutes before finally deciding on an old movie with Julianne Moore and Ralph Fiennes called "An End to an Affair."
She's surprised he has such a movie but she assumes it's one of his daughter's. She picks up a comedy with Will Ferrell in it too just in case the romance gives him the wrong idea.
Though she'd like to think earlier in the kitchen was an indication of how he'd like the night to go, she won't get to far ahead of herself and she definitely doesn't want to push things so soon after what's she's been through relationship wise.
If anything, this has to be done the right way if it is going to happen at all. And… she can't believe she's thinking of Elliot as a possibility.
Her heart flutters in her chest as she sits on the couch and waits for him.
Several minutes later, she hears him pad down the hallway and suddenly everything comes flowing back to her like a torrent of wind.
Not even a year ago, they were sitting hunched over in the back stairwell of the courthouse after nearly three years of no contact.
She remembers the air of forgiveness between them this past summer as they'd gently heard each other out and each new day that had passed after that.
The oxygen began replenishing her lungs the moment he first gripped her from behind in a hug that hasn't left her psyche yet.
The feeling in her limbs came back to life the moment he'd barely grazed her hand in the park.
And she began living again, the moment he'd stepped into her apartment a few weeks ago after agreeing to have dinner together.
He silently looks at her choices of movies sitting in front of her on the coffee table, then reaches down and picks up the romance one without hesitation.
He looks at the cover for only a moment before turning around and putting it into the dvd player.
When he sits back down next to her, even closer than they were moments before he put his son to bed, she breathes him in again, wrapping her arm around his back undaunted for the moment and relishing in the ability to do so.
As his arm wraps around her shoulders again, his head dips low and he nudges her face with his nose, turning her attention to his features outlined in the dim living room.
When his voice filters out against the opening credits of the movie, her heart pounds so loudly she's afraid he can hear it.
"Thank you so much for coming, Olivia. I appreciate it so much. You so much," he adds so quietly.
She breathes in deeply through her nose before catching his glossy eyes in the light of the television. She looks into them before letting her gaze slip to his lips.
It doesn't take much for it to happen.
She reaches up to let him know that she knows, she understands. Rubbing his jaw with her thumb, she leans up and kisses him and he reciprocates immediately.
The kiss is as sensual and light as it had been earlier in his kitchen. She presses in and opens her mouth, running her tongue against his.
The movie is long forgotten but the background noise is a welcome distraction from the low moan that escapes her when he runs his palms underneath her shirt.
His palms then graze her sides but she doesn't fight the intensity of his proximity.
She doesn't let her mind fight against the massive change in their relationship as he kisses her over and over, his mouth moving over her lips, her cheek, and then to her neck.
She just lets herself be. She simply breathes, as his mouth latches onto the sensitive skin behind her ear.
Her hands then glide across the back of his head, his neck and finally she clings to his shoulders as he lays her back against the cushions beneath them both.
Six months of getting to know one another again. One year of forgiveness. Three years of wondering what if. Ten years of being in love.
It's in the moments while he's moving above her, touching her, lavishing her with his sincerity and restraint and tenderness, with his body pressed against hers so intimately that she realizes that only twelve years out of fifteen total of knowing him, has she truly thrived.
And it's been by simply breathing him in.
finis.
Important Note:I just wanted to let everyone know that I'm quite possibly changing my penname on here. I'm going to go from PushTheButtton to ItsALifesJourney (which is a segment of one of Mariska's powerful quotes.). I just wanted to give a heads up in case anyone gets confused. This quote also matches my twitter handle in case anyone's curious.
Anyhow, thanks again for all the amazing words and support on my stories. :)