Oliver stood awkwardly near the door to the ladies' restroom trying to determine his next steps with Shane. Unfortunately, the tension between the two of them had not been resolved before she walked out of the DLO. He knew she was feeling undermined by his decision to call for extra assistance, but if only she understood his motives... As he waited for a few minutes, he prayed and tossed verbiage in his head until he felt confident in what he would say.
Shane had been in the lounge a little more than ten minutes, if she had even gone in there at all. He decided to wait another three minutes and then he would bend the rules if necessary. The last thing that Oliver O'Toole—ever the gentleman—expected to do was to enter the ladies' restroom. He could only hope that since no one had exited in the last five minutes that Shane was alone in there.
But what if she needed him? Suddenly he couldn't wait another minute, much less three. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed. Cracking the door open, he covered his eyes with his free hand as he called out her name.
"Shane! Are you in there?"
"Yes," she replied, although her voice was unsteady. Oliver's senses went into overdrive as he considered the possible reasons why she sounded so strange.
"Is anyone else in there?"
No answer.
"I'm coming in," Oliver announced, no longer worried about anything or anyone but his wife.
Shane was standing at the sink when he entered, placing a toothbrush in her purse and then wiping her face with a wet paper towel. Oliver frowned as he noticed her grave demeanor. He swallowed a lump in his throat, feeling guilty for the harsh words he had spoken to her earlier.
"Oh, Shane." He stood behind his wife and placed his hands on her upper arms, studying her in the mirror. "I am terribly sorry. I hate that I upset you and that you felt the need to come in here to find a safe space, away from me."
When she didn't say a word, he noticed that she was trembling. He felt her shaking under his hands, but it was enough that he could see it in the mirror as well.
"Oh, no," he said, once he realized that she had not retreated there solely out of anger. "Have you been sick?"
Shane nodded feebly at his reflection and then looked down with a sigh. He eased her around gently and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her pale forehead as she buried her head in his shoulder for several seconds. She took a deep breath and cut her eyes up at him.
"I just—it hit me out of nowhere. I started feeling a little yucky, so I came in here and... Now I just feel so weak."
He rubbed her back and sighed helplessly, wishing he could make her feel better. The sad expression he wore, his eyes conveying a deep concern for her, made her heart squeeze and her eyes burn. Wordlessly, Oliver tipped up her chin with his forefinger and bent his head down to meet her lips with his. If she had been entirely truthful with him in that moment, he would have known that his kiss only intensified her weakened state.
Seconds later, the door to the ladies' room swung open. The couple broke their kiss, turning in shock as they remembered where they were, recognizing one of the front office managers. The manager gasped as she made eye contact with Oliver, then glanced at Shane and back at him, her eyes narrowing in disapproval. With a huff, she turned to exit.
"I—uh—" he started to call out, but the door slammed shut behind her.
Despite feeling physically drained, Shane stifled a giggle and looked up at Oliver once again. He turned his head back and shrugged his shoulder, eyeing her for a couple of seconds as if considering picking up where they left off. He looked like a little boy who had shamelessly not only colored outside the lines, but all over the walls as well. Shane couldn't help it and finally giggled out loud.
"What is it?" he asked, smiling slightly at her with questioning brows.
"It's just—I never pictured you standing in the ladies' room, holding me after I've been sick, kissing me like you mean it, and scaring off other women. And to top it all off, none of it seems to bother you." She studied him with amusement. "What the Sam Hill."
Oliver glanced up toward the ceiling and back down at her, shaking his head. "What the Sam Hill..." he muttered with an lighthearted grin, tucking strands of unkempt hair behind her ears. "I'm in the ladies' room." He caressed her face with his eyes. "The things I do for you," he declared with a sigh, and she chuckled.
He planted another kiss on her forehead and enveloped his wife into his arms once again, holding her close. The love he had shown her—his willingness to step out of his comfort zone for her—was enough to cause any prior tension between them to dissipate.
"We probably should go before Ms. Manager reports us for inappropriate behavior," Shane suggested reluctantly. "Because you know what she's thinking, and that kind of accusation would not look too great on your evaluation—married or not."
Oliver nodded and grimaced as he relaxed his hold on her. "Are you okay or am I going to have to carry you out of here?" His blue eyes sparkled as he spoke with a teasing tone.
"I think I can manage." She raised her eyebrows and gave him a knowing look. "That would draw all sorts of attention out on the floor."
"That is true." He laughed. "Ready?"
"I am," Shane said confidently, reaching for her purse on the vanity. "I just don't quite feel like running a marathon."
"That is understandable. There's no rush," he told her, letting go with one arm but holding her lightly around the waist with the other.
Oliver guided his recovering wife out of the ladies' room and past the manager, who was waiting just outside the door with a slight scowl.
"Thank you," Oliver told her. "My sincerest apologies, but I believe we have the situation under control now."
Without waiting for a response, the couple continued down the hall and snickered on their way back to the DLO, Shane leaning into Oliver.
"Do you think she'll tell anyone?" Oliver inquired quietly.
"Yes. But who's going to believe her?" Shane giggled. "Oliver O'Toole in the ladies' room? That sounds like a headline you'd see on one of those fake news magazines at the checkout stand."
He chortled. "Let's hope we don't see that in writing anywhere, and especially not on my evaluation."
Once Oliver pushed the door open to their office, he glanced around to ensure their privacy, then shockingly scooped Shane up in his arms as she laughed heartily.
"You don't think I could make it to my desk from here?" She narrowed her eyes at him playfully.
"You are not going to your desk, Mrs. McInerney-O'Toole," he said with a smirk as he passed it by. "It's break time."
A moment later, he gently eased her down onto the sofa.
"Oliver," she protested. "If I lie down, I might just go to sleep."
"Then maybe sleep is what you need," he countered, shrugging his shoulder as he stood in front of her. "I do know you need to stay hydrated. Would you like some ginger ale?"
"I would love some, but I don't want you to have to go to the store. Water is fine."
"Oh, there's ginger ale in the refrigerator," he informed her proudly. "I stocked up just in case."
"What?" Shane pondered. "You already prepared for this?"
"I was just doing what any considerate supervisor would do." He shrugged his shoulders, and she laughed, shaking her head as he continued. "I once had a thoughtful employee who ensured that Yoo-Hoos were stocked up for me, just in case."
Oliver knelt down on the floor beside the sofa, his face inches above hers, taking her hand in his.
"Do you remember what I told her?"
"I do," Shane said softly with a grin, her eyes slightly misty. "You said that one day, you hoped to return the favor."
He nodded. "I know it's not quite the romantic gesture that you gave me, but—"
Shane placed her fingers on his lips to silence him.
"Are you kidding? That's the most thoughtful thing you could do for me right now, so yes, it's terribly romantic." Her voice cracked a little as she continued. "You are always, always looking out for others, especially me. I love you, Oliver. I'm so glad I get to do life with you—the good, the bad, the ugly."
Oliver chuckled. "Who's ugly?"
"Me, right now," Shane replied with a grimace.
"Shane, I assure you that you are more beautiful now than ever." Oliver gazed at his wife with adoration. "And I didn't think it was possible, but I'm fairly certain that I love you more now than ever." He lifted her hand and kissed it as he continued to gaze at her, her eyes still glistening.
Unable to refrain, he leaned over and brushed his lips over hers, kissing her softly but passionately. After a few moments, he reluctantly backed away and let go of her hand, then stood to retrieve the cold drink from the refrigerator.
Oliver returned promptly with a ginger ale and a Yoo-Hoo. He sat down beside Shane and handed her the ginger ale. Then he held his bottle up to hers and she giggled joyfully as they clinked their bottles together. He grinned at the sound of her laughter.
They sat quietly together on the couch for a while as Shane slowly took sips of the ginger ale and Oliver finished his Yoo-Hoo. Oliver took Shane's hand once again and looked at her. She met his gaze and raised her eyebrows, questioning his thoughts.
"I want you to know that...I am not terribly fond of the idea of having someone else working in this space with us—besides Norman and Rita, of course. We are a family, and although it will only be temporary, I can imagine the challenges that having an additional team member will present."
Shane watched him patiently, then followed his gaze as it shifted to the bins of overflowing mail across the room.
"However, I would be remiss if I expected us to handle the issue at hand without assistance. Shane," he spoke carefully as he turned back to her. "I assure you, when I made this decision, I was thinking of you—and Rita—and Norman as well. I don't want to do harm to our team by placing unrealistic expectations on any of you, or myself, for that matter."
Shane nodded. "But Oliver, I don't think it's unrealistic to believe we can handle this on our own. We haven't even had a chance to try."
"We could probably handle this on our own—but I'm quite certain that it would require putting in numerous extra hours, and I'm not willing to overwork you and Rita. Even if Norman and I worked overtime shifts, that would mean sending the two of you home alone at the end of the day."
"And?" Shane raised her eyebrows.
"Well, I don't want my expectant wife home alone in the evenings...and I'm quite certain Norman would feel the same way."
Shane bit her lip as she contemplated his statement but decided to stick closer to the matter at hand for the time being. "So, tell me again, do you really believe you would have called for backup if Rita and I weren't pregnant?"
Oliver was silent for a moment as he looked away. He took a deep breath.
"But the reality is that you are." Oliver's eyes met hers once again. "It made my decision that much easier."
"But if we weren't, you wouldn't have requested backup and the four of us would handle this, whatever it took. Right?"
"I have never been in a situation quite like this before, so I'm not entirely certain. Why are you questioning this with what-ifs, Shane? The decision has been made and I truly believe it's the best one under the circumstances."
"Oliver, we're not exactly proving our competence by asking for extra assistance!" Shane was flustered and sharply removed her hand from his, tucking her hair behind her ear. "They could decide to assign someone else to the DLO, some permanent fifth-wheel, because we can't handle our workload! If sending someone temporarily is successful in lessening the backlog and increasing our output, then that could very well happen."
"I don't believe that it will. I explained to Becky that we had gotten a little behind while we were primarily focused on a single case—although I did not reveal that we were working on something that was not even official postal business—"
"The wedding invitation was," she retorted, irritated that he kept referring to their latest investigation as unofficial and making implications that she was to blame.
"But the album wasn't." His tone and expression once again clearly reflected his annoyance at her being brazenly manipulative.
"Oliver, I know you blame me for this accumulation because I insisted on investigating Tori's album. But what happened to your 'trust the timing' theory? Does that only apply in context when you want it to? Maybe there's a reason for all of this," she told him, gesturing at the hundreds of letters before them. "You know that if we hadn't had the album, we wouldn't have been able to determine the details of the wedding invitation and therefore reunite Tori with the Hasletts."
Oliver took a deep breath. "I won't deny that that is true. However, I am struggling to find a good reason for this massive backlog. I have believed it to be solely the result of my negligence as section leader. From now on, I refuse to continue making poor decisions that will cause even more problems for us, hence the reason I requested extra assistance. If we hadn't prioritized the investigation of the album for so many days, perhaps we wouldn't currently be in a situation that has forced me to ask for backup."
"Well, I am sorry that my obsession with Tori's baby book has caused complications for us." Shane gritted her teeth. "But maybe you should have waited a bit before requesting backup. You don't think that will cause even more problems? Why not just trust your team to step up and get the job done?!"
"You think I don't trust you? What about trusting me, as section leader, to make the right decisions when it comes to running this office? Believe me, you have always had plenty of input regarding our work here and you always get your way, but this time, I cannot be manipulated. There is too much at stake. I know the four of us could handle this, but we shouldn't have to when there is another option, Shane!"
They were at a standstill, after running in circles. Shane remained silent for several seconds. Then she finally spoke in a quiet voice.
"There is too much at stake, Oliver, and that's what I don't understand. By requesting extra assistance with our workload, you could be risking your evaluation score—and we both know how important that is to you. In turn, you could be risking the very structure of the POstables. You've never been willing to do that before, so why now?"
"Because of you, Shane. Because you—and our baby—are what matter to me more than anything. And because I truly believe that the situation here will eventually be resolved and we can go back to normal—or at least our new normal. But I will not take risks when it comes to you."
Shane sat quietly, realizing the real root of Oliver's actions and having mixed feelings about his overprotectiveness of her. But that would have to be a conversation for another day. Their focus on his decision to call for backup had just about drained all of her energy and she didn't care to pick another fight at the moment.
Oliver sighed as he gazed at her. "I am sorry that I did not discuss this with you beforehand, but the opportunity simply did not present itself. While I was sitting in the department meeting this morning, I prayed about our dilemma. I am almost ashamed to say that I don't even know what the meeting was about. At the time I seemed to only have two choices to occupy my thoughts—worry or prayer. By the time I left, I had an inexplicable peace about what to do and went directly to a conference room to call Becky—before I changed my mind—and we talked it over for a while. She and I both feel that this is the right solution. I know that it must have come as quite a shock to the three of you," he surmised. "But Norman and Rita have graciously accepted my decision and I need your support as well."
Shane nodded in understanding. While it was not her nature to simply let go of something she felt so strongly about, her husband was making a valid argument. She was also becoming mentally exhausted. Her emotions were simmering down, her heart softening as she considered his point of view.
"Of course you have my full support, Oliver. You made an executive decision based on what you felt led to do, and while I don't necessarily agree that such extreme actions were necessary just yet, I know your heart, and I understand your intentions."
Oliver narrowed his eyes at her, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Shane continued. "Besides, you are the section leader and I'm just an employee."
Oliver chuckled and shook his head at her. "You have never been just an employee, Shane. You are first and foremost my wife, who just happens to work in the department I supervise. But because I am head over heels in love with you and so easily succumb to your wishes, I often wonder who actually runs this place." His eyes sparkled with amusement.
Shane gave him a sideways grin. "I know that at times I can be a bit...persuasive."
"Shane, I will admit that your tenacity frequently frustrates me, yet it's also one of your most endearing qualities." He smiled at her tenderly, then gave her a solemn stare. "The truth is I feel like I have lost control of our department lately, and therefore I have been deliberately placing blame on you out of frustration. I am sorry for that."
Shane nodded at his confession. "It's okay, Oliver. I understand."
"I do believe that the time we spent on Tori's baby book was time well spent and not wasted. With that delivery, we were able to bring hope and healing, which is our mission. I've come to realize that this higher calling requires us to use our skills wherever and however we can to do good and to change people's lives. Although it might not be ideal, I believe that having temporary assistance will help us to get caught up on the overflow so that we can continue doing the work that we are called to do."
Shane was about to respond to his heartwarming speech when he took a deep breath and frowned at the bins of unprocessed letters and packages.
"What are you thinking, Oliver?"
"We might have gotten behind in our everyday procedures, but I cannot blame the actual influx of dead letters on anything we have or have not done. Something very strange is going on here," he informed her pensively.
"What do you mean?" Shane inquired, knitting her brows.
"Where are all these letters coming from? And how long will they keep coming? As many years as I've worked in the Dead Letter Office, I've never seen anything like it. It's as though a ship filled with U.S. mail sunk somewhere and they're directing the whole boat load to us, one bin at a time."
"It is a whole lot of mail." Shane took a deep breath.
Oliver turned to peer into her eyes with a defeated expression.
"I am sorry, Shane, for all of this, and for the tension between us. I want to protect you from stress, especially now. I don't want to place you in the middle of it, and I certainly don't want to be the cause of it."
Shane shook her head, gazing back at him sympathetically.
"What is it?" he asked her, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he watched her intently.
"I was just thinking about what you said in the ladies' room earlier, about me finding a safe space away from you..." Shane sighed and pursed her lips. "Oliver, you make me feel a lot of things—but you never, ever make me feel unsafe. If anything, it's the complete opposite. I can't run away from you to find a safe space. You are my safe space. Even when you make me absolutely crazy, I feel so loved and cherished and protected by you."
Oliver took the ginger ale from her hand and placed it on a nearby table beside his empty Yoo-Hoo bottle. He turned back to Shane with an expression of yearning that took her breath away.
"Oliver—"
In an instant, Oliver had cupped her face with his hands. He claimed her lips with his own and kissed her until the Dormans returned from lunch.