"And where are we going?" Lizzie - in a makeshift blindfold that probably matches his - grips his hand as they move forward gingerly, each guided by a jumping, squealing Darcy-Bennet twin.
"You'll see, Mom. You'll see!" It's clearly Lili who's spearheading this entire event. One day, that girl's going to be president.
"Because it's our last night with each other," on Darcy's side, it's Gigi speaking. Her voice flickers a little. It's too bad he can't see her face to be sure.
Instead, Darcy moves his hand to her shoulder - and lets his daughter guide him that way instead.
"How much longer is - "
"Almost there, Mom. You're so impatient."
Both Darcy and Lizzie chuckle. When the talk of having something special tonight had come up this morning, it was the girls who started parenting them.
"Don't plan anything! We've already got it!" Both young ladies declared instantly. "We just need - a credit card."
Darcy, having decided not to work for a single minute out of this precious, last day - has been sitting pretty ever since. The only time he mattered, really, was when the girls gave him his 'makeover.'
They made him change into a suit and put strange substances into his hair before blindfolding him.
The Uber didn't take too long, so they have to be close to Lizzie's place.
But it's still a fact that he's been blindfolded ever since.
"Will."
"Right here." He clasps Lizzie's hand more tightly. Her fingers are cold, and she's shaking slightly. "Are you nervous?"
Her stilted chuckle says it all. "For the record, none of this I'm-smarter-than-my-parents stuff started until the daughter you raised came into the picture."
"The daughter, you mean, who takes after you the most."
He hears Lizzie chuckle, and he feels her skirt brushing against his side. He wonders how her makeover went.
The girls' drawn-out directions finally speed up a little - and end when their feet land on some kind of carpet.
"May I - "
"Yes, Dad, now."
Darcy obeys and frees his hand to undo his blindfold.
"Surprise!" The room - Charlie, Jane, Lizzie's secretary, Lizzie's parents, Georgiana, Fitz - erupts into joyful celebration. It's a familiar space. A quick catalogue reminds him it's Lizzie's office. But it's been dressed up somehow - all streamers and colors and balloons and formally-dressed guests.
"Lizzie!" Jane flies forward first.
Darcy turns - and gets his first true sight of his dazzling wife in a floor-length purple gown. It's not glittery or stiff, but it is understated and powerful. It bares her shoulders and shows a tantalizing bit of cleavage. It hugs her curves before flowing out at the waist to form something of a mini-train.
She's either been keeping a very perfect dress in her closet for years - or his daughters have maxed out his credit card with their own laudable fashion skills.
Frankly, he doesn't mind.
"Happy birthday, dear," Jane greets Lizzie with a hug.
Darcy stiffens. It was her - birthday?
A quick mental round of recall - forgotten dates, painful memories - restores his faculties. He reaches out and places a hand on Lizzie's back. He belated realizes just how bare said back is tonight.
"I'm sorry I didn't get you anything," he apologizes. He means it, too.
Lizzie smiles - and she's absolutely breathtaking. "It's just a silly tradition of celebrating in advance - what with everyone available this month. Don't worry, Will."
"And it's - always this fancy?"
She laughs. "Thank God, no."
Then she steps closer and leans close to his ear. His throat constricts.
"Usually," she whispers into his ear, "we don't get to max out a card or two."
He smiles and drinks champagne and feels warm for the rest of the night.
By the time he finally gets her to himself again, the initial excitement in the room has descended into a layer of soft, happy chatter. Everyone, even the kids, is nursing a glass of punch or wine. Everyone's poses, formal before, have relaxed into familiarity.
"So you do this every year, huh?" Darcy sips from his own glass. In the last thirty seconds, he's managed to already ogle the beautiful woman beside him thrice.
He hopes she doesn't mind.
"I have my mother's extravagant genes, I suppose." Lizzie laughs. She laughs like she doesn't mind, at least. "It's just that my birthday is the closest thing we have to an excuse for family reunions outside of Christmas."
"I see." He takes another sip. A million thoughts swirl in his mind.
She stays quiet beside him, sitting close by enough on the ottoman bench to provide a feeling of intimacy but far away enough to not be snuggling.
A small part of him wishes she did the snuggling instead.
He takes a sip. "I had no idea."
"There's a lot you don't know about me - you know?"
He turns at the unexpected response.
She looks - sad. Her voice wasn't defiant or defensive. It was just - sad.
"Well, I - I'm willing to get to know you - and Gigi - all over again," he says the most honest thing he can manage.
She nods, but she still doesn't smile.
Across the room, Gigi leads her beaming sister up to every cluster of guests - and the girls obviously bask in the glory of being admired together.
They're together, at last.
It's just too cruel to separate them again.
"They're going to miss each other," he says.
"Yeah. I know." Lizzie takes her own sip. "I'm not going to lie and say that I wouldn't either."
Darcy closes his eyes. His hands twitch, ready to grab hers on a second's notice. He refrains because he knows she wouldn't like it.
He opens his eyes. "I'm too selfish to leave them both in New York."
"And I'm too selfish to leave them both in California."
They look at each other then, and the kinship of parenthood link them in something they never truly did seem to have the first time around.
Lizzie smiles now, softly. The color of her dress draws out new depths in her eyes.
"We'll figure out something," he promises. "We can homeschool them or have them take distance lessons. Or we can, you know, alternate years or something."
"That's not good for them."
"I know," Darcy admits. He grunts, unhappy. "But we have to figure out something, right? To be a family, we have to - "
He trails off at the sight of her face.
She looks tentative, worried, and scared.
He feels his heart break a little at the thought of her not sharing his hopes.
Wasn't it her all along who wanted him to go back?
"Will - "
"Or not," he backpedals. He pulls away from her and rests his head against the wall behind him. The tropical potted plant beside him, reminiscent of California, almost brings tears to his manly eyes.
"Will, I didn't say I didn't want to."
"Sure."
"I do."
"Mm hm."
"We've never - " She takes a few seconds to glance around the room before returning, thankfully, to him. "We haven't talked about this."
"Then maybe we should."
"Yes."
Ever since their first fateful reunion, with him so anxious to hold Lili that he barely realized whose house he was in, they really haven't had the chance to talk.
Now he hangs his head. "You think so?"
"Yes."
And this is the Lizzie he remembers - determined, unwavering, strong.
It's hard not to fall hard for something you've already fallen for.
"Yeah?" He offers weakly.
"Yes. We need to make some kind of arrangement - some way to make this work."
Darcy glances at the mostly-full glass his former-wife and current-something is holding. He glances at his own few droplets left.
Maybe he's drunk. Maybe he's not.
He rubs the base of his palm against his eye, thankful he doesn't wear make-up. He tries his very, very best to avoid asking her what 'this' means.
"But you think it's not good for them?" He refers back to her previous statement.
Her face softens. He realizes he's dealing with the same woman - but it's still an older, wiser, gentler version of her.
"I meant the whole, you know - transferring around thing." She slides a hand on his thigh. It's not a flirtatious touch, just a familiar one.
In this particular situation, he feels that those two things are one and the same.
He looks down for a second. "I see."
"I still want to keep you in their lives - and to keep them in each other's lives."
"Right."
"I want to spend more time with Lili. It's been years since I've held her in my arms."
Darcy nods. He understands everything she means. He's gone through just as much as she has these past few weeks.
"I just don't want their existence to keep you from your happiness," Lizzie concludes.
It takes two seconds for the confusion to set in.
"My happiness?"
"Well, you know - " Lizzie falters now, and her hand slips away. "I mean - "
He waits her out, while also waiting for the fog in his mind to clear.
"Lizzie - "
"Like Caroline." She shrugs awkwardly. Darcy wishes, even now, that he never hears that name again. "If it weren't for us - I mean, me and the girls - you would still be with her."
"Like Caroline. If it weren't for us - I mean, me and the girls - you would still be with her."
"No, I wouldn't." He denies it instantly. She pretends she didn't feel the shiver of excitement at the speed of his reply.
She feels him right himself to sit up straighter. She waits for him to take her hand again. He doesn't.
"Lizzie, look, I - I know I never realized that we've been married all this time - and I know I'm the one who has an ugly tally of, well, people coming in and out of my life and Lili's life in this entire time that we've been apart. I'm sorry."
She looks down, getting whiplash from his sudden spurt of apology.
"But that doesn't mean that's what I want," he stresses. "I - goodness, Lizzie, if you only knew - if you only knew how I compared every single woman to you and how each and every one of them fell short. Caroline - huh, she's not even close to the more serious attempts."
She nods slightly, not exactly sure what the expected response in their unique situation is.
"Lizzie." He takes her hand now. His palm is warm, large, and all-encompassing. "Forgive me. Each time I took a woman to bed on a business trip - each time I let yet another flimsy excuse of a lady grace my arm for a new event launch - to think, I had been. To think, all that time, I had been still married to you."
Her heart stopped living in her chest. In fact, it has plummeted so thoroughly that it now throbbed helplessly by her feet.
"It's alright," she offers weakly.
"But please know - I swear, from the bottom of my heart and all that I am and have - that there's been no one who can hold a candle to you and your beauty and wit and charm. There's been no one, and there will never be another."
She gulps, dangerously close to reminding him that he sounds like he's proposing.
"So please never think." By the tone of his voice, it's clear that he's concluding. "Never, for one moment, ever believe that keeping me and Lili in your life and letting us share ours with Gigi is 'keeping me from my happiness.'"
Lizzie hangs her head. A million emotions swirl in her head, and her heart.
As memorable birthday parties go - this one's for the ages.
"I'm sorry too, you know," she whispers, a minute later. She feels him relax beside her. The people flitting about in her office - dressed to the nines and giggly and bright - feel far, far away. "Not having moved on doesn't mean I haven't tried. There have been, what, three? I mean, Ned didn't last a week when he knew I had Gigi and Tom only wanted to please his ailing mother. Douglas wasn't even - "
"Lizzie, don't." Will pulls her close, into a real hug. She holds stiffly for two seconds before letting herself rest freely against his chest. The room blurs and dances. "It doesn't matter."
It doesn't matter - because it's gone, it's in the past, and it's something they'll never get back. It doesn't matter because he can recount a thousand sins and she'll forgive him, now, without question.
They've grown, and they've both learned to be stronger because of it.
She just hopes it matters - to him - that it doesn't matter, that she's willing to move on - with him - to another reckless, uncharted chapter of life.
She feels him sniff against her shoulder. She tightens her hands around his body.
It doesn't matter - because he's leaving in the morning.
"Bygones," she whispers against his cheek.
She feels him nod, and her heart gently maneuvers back to its rightful place.
They arrive home so uneventfully that it's as if it were just another day in the office. Other than everyone sporting some kind of dressed-down version of their initial glamor, the situation feels remarkably commonplace - even if it's not.
Ten minutes ago, within the span of a short drive, Lili managed to croak a sleepy "Do we have to go to the airport tomorrow, Dad?"
And Will answered, too calmly for her liking, "Yes."
She expected the girls to mutiny, to screech, to protest.
It's a little unsettling that they didn't.
Now, in her relatively tiny apartment, her two children trudge off to sleep like a couple of zombie princesses. They don't complain, and they don't put up anything close to a fuss.
Is Lizzie really the only person genuinely sad about their impending departure?
Beside her, Will yawns and stretches like a teenage boy. Lizzie turns an appreciative brow his way. He smiles.
"Who knew finger food and champagne can make me feel like a rock?"
Lizzie smiles too. "My staff - and those two girls - really know how to party plan."
"Pretty well, it seems."
"I'm sure your credit card bill will bear testament to just how well."
Will nods. He drags himself in long, heavy steps towards his couch of a home. He pulls off all his peripheral items of clothing until he lands on his seat in just his undershirt and unbelted slacks. If it weren't for the ridiculous proportions between him and his occupied furniture - she would've said he looked right at home.
Lizzie clears her throat. "You okay there?"
His look back is wry - and a little charming. "I'll live."
Lizzie hears how nervous her own chuckle is. "Sorry that I - uhm - don't exactly have a five-star room to offer around here."
"But you have you."
She looks up sharply, eyes snapping into a locked gaze with his.
He doesn't look like he's joking, doesn't seem like he cares what he sounded like.
"New York's been home for as long as it has because of you," he says, every word crystal clear.
"You used to hate the East Coast."
"But I don't now."
A part of her gets it. A part of her still remembers how quickly she learned to love the Californian desert back when she believed it would be their forever home.
A part of her has learned, she realizes, that it's not about the place, but the people.
"Lizzie - "
She strides over to him with a newfound determination.
"Lizzie, I think - "
She grabs him by the jaw and kisses him then, a thousand hesitations flung out the window. Sitting down, he's shorter than she is - and she thinks in the back of her mind that this is probably how he feels kissing her all those other times.
Frankly, it's not too fun on the lower back.
He doesn't kiss her back right away - just lingers there like an unresponsive tablet screen. She waits two full seconds before she considers pulling away.
But he doesn't.
And he hooks her in by the waist as if they've been doing this three thousand times in the last ten years. He kisses her back fully, thoroughly. His taste is still the same, after all these long, meandering years. It takes her this - this awoken, living memory of his mouth on hers - to realize she's really never, ever moved on - at all.
The kiss pulls her forward clumsily, and she crashes against him with more force than she expected. Her hands scramble for the back of the couch, landing just before her nose can obliterate his cheekbones. The kiss turns a little more reckless, a little more sloppy. Eleven years and three months of sexual tension thrum to life like a long-dormant marquee board announcing its first show in years. She feels his hands roaming - minimally, just up and down her back - but with electric charges nonetheless. She leans in to kiss him closer, to kiss him better. His lips are already open, a thrilling invitation.
Their tongues find each other like magnets. She grips his waist more tightly with her thighs, maintaining her balance.
His bare forearms help her to turn around, shift back, and - crash loudly on to the couch with an earth-shattering thud.
And they pause - sweaty and breathless and inches away from having actual clothes come actually off.
"Dad, Mom, are you guys okay?" Lili's voice carries over through the bathroom door. "Do you need - help?"
Lizzie slides herself away from her hunky ex-something to sit contritely and primly beside him.
Will, still panting, pulls back just enough to unentangle any of his limbs with any of hers.
"Dad?"
"We're fine," says Will in a still, strong voice. He's either very good at hiding excitement from his daughter or really less affected by the kiss than Lizzie was.
Either thought is sobering.
"Do you need help, dear?" Lizzie throws the question back her mini-me's way.
"We're fine." The girls giggle. For some reason - some unknown, weird reason - they seem happier than depressed about this being their last night together in one home.
"Good," says Will. "Go to bed."
"Yes, Daddy," they answer in a silly unison. The sound of young, active feet shuffle around in response.
Lizzie, panting less now, steals a glance sideways.
Will is smiling, perhaps ironically.
"You were saying?" She prompts, for lack of better options.
"I was saying I think - you looked extremely beautiful tonight."
There's no hint of flattery in his voice - no flirtatiousness or hidden motives.
And she loves him, so much.
"Thanks for staying here, Will."
"Thanks for letting us come."
"Anytime, you know? Anytime."
They look at each other again - with an entirely different type of familiarity. The charge of feelings, at their roaring peak just a minute ago, has ebbed away into a deciding calm.
Lizzie smiles. "We'll make it work, right?"
She barely knows what she's talking about. She barely knows what it is supposed to be around here.
"Yeah," he agrees. Another yawn overcomes him. It's obvious that there won't be any more last-night-of-camp sneaking around tonight.
Lizzie pats his knee. "I'll get you another blanket."
She almost doesn't make it to her bedroom before the first tear falls.
A/N: I know this is all a little too dragged out for dramatic effect. I got carried away trying to recreate a version of the yacht date in the movie. I like the movie's version more, but I hope these two idiots' personal pining managed to stir up some kind of longing. I did enjoy writing out Darcy's little speech. He's a lot more romantic when drunk :) Only two more chapters to go!