Hello! I've just gotten back from a beautiful weekend in the city with the boy. I sometimes wish we lived up there but then we come back down south to the coast and I can't imagine living anywhere else!
I also came home to a handful of lovely reviews, so thank you.
Oliver turned the handle of the door, walking in to the quiet house. A voice called his name and he found Pippa in the kitchen, a glass of wine in her hand, one filled on the bench.
She used the base to push it towards Oliver.
He didn't pick it up, instead, crossing the kitchen to where Pippa was leaning on the bench top.
One hand went to her hip, the other to her cheek, as he pinned her effortlessly between himself and the cupboards. He pressed his lips to hers and heard Pippa blindly place the wine glass on the countertop.
She felt so different to Laurel, who was petite and had curves in all the right places. Pippa, on the other hand, was all arms and legs, skinny to the point of boney, but with a frame of solid muscle.
Oliver lifted her up onto the bench, a quiet, surprised gasp coming from Pippa. She had her hands on his chest and moved them up over his shoulders, one going to the back of Oliver's neck, the other running swiftly down his arm to his elbow.
"Oliver, my son and my nanny are upstairs," she breathed into his mouth.
"So, we'll stay downstairs," his reply came instantly, his fingers playing with the bottom of her shirt.
"Okay," Pippa whispered, nodding.
"I've got to take the dog out, I'll be fifteen minutes or so," Pippa whispered, leaning over a still dozing Oliver, her curls tickling his face as much as her lips had.
"A'right," he smacked his lips together, his mouth dry.
"There's a glass of water on the coffee table," she smiled and then left with a dog lead in hand.
As soon as she was gone, Oliver threw back the granny square blanket and found his jeans and his shirt. He padded around the living room, looking at photos and books. Finding nothing of interest, he moved towards the dining room, passing through the entrance hall.
"Who are you?" came a young, but confident voice.
A young boy in blue pyjamas was half way up the stairs.
"Hey, I'm, um, I'm a friend of your mums," Oliver explained.
"My mum doesn't have friends," the boy replied.
"She does now," Oliver smiled, "I'm Oliver."
"My name is Joe," the skinny kid with a barrel chest held the railing as he came down to the entrance hall, a plastic sword in the other hand.
"It's lovely to meet you Joe."
"My dad used to have a friend named Oliver," Joe sat on the bottom step.
Oliver cleared his throat, sitting down next to Joe.
"Did he just?"
"Yep," Joe nodded enthusiastically, "he used to tell me all these stories about how he and Oliver used to take out all the baddies, him with a sword, like this one," he put the toy scabbard in Oliver's lap, "and Oliver with a bow and arrow."
"What else did your Dad say about Oliver?"
"Not much. Just that one day he'd have to find him," Joe shrugged.
"When did you last see your Dad?" Oliver pressed.
"When I turned 6," he looked a little sad, then, like any other child, he seemed to forget his sadness, his dark eyes lighting up. "Do you know how to use a sword?"
"Ha, of course I do! What man doesn't?" Oliver smiled.
"Do you want a sword fight?"
Oliver nodded and Joe jumped up.
"Wait right here, I'll have to get another sword," Joe said sternly and then excitedly ran up the stairs.
The front door opened and Pippa, now with her hair pulled back, came in with a big dog.
"What are you still doing here?" she hissed, taking the dog off the lead. It trotted up to Oliver, who could see the shiny name tag read 'Trevor'.
"Hey Trev," he patted the dog, then turned his attention to Pippa, "Joe wanted to sword fight, I thought I'd entertain him until you came back."
"Well, I'm back, no entertaining needed," she tucked a stray curl behind her ear.
Kelly came bouncing down the stairs, coming to an abrupt halt when she saw Oliver.
"Sorry, didn't realise anyone was here, I was just coming down to grab some coffee before I left," she smiled and adjusted the strap of her bag.
"It's not a problem, Kelly, I put some coffee on before I took Trevor out," Pippa returned the smile, although hers was forced.
Kelly continued down the stairs, well aware of the tension and the deafening silence in the entry hall. She was nearly in the kitchen when she turned back around.
"Um, Joe is just getting dressed, I thought I'd drop him at Tim's house on my way to my exam."
"Sounds wonderful."
Trevor followed Kelly into the kitchen and Pippa continued to stare at Oliver.
"Are you alright?" Oliver raised an eyebrow.
Pippa cleared her throat and nodded.
Joe came bounding down the stairs before Oliver could call her bluff.
"Oliver, I'm going to my friend Tim's house, but maybe we can sword fight another day?"
"Sure, buddy!"
"Awesome!"
Kelly came out of the kitchen and picked up Joe's overnight bag.
"Ready, little man?" she asked.
Joe nodded excitedly and followed her to the door.
"Bye, mum!" he stopped and wrapped his arms around Pippa's waist.
"See you tomorrow, Joe," she whispered tenderly, kissing the top of his head.
The door finally closed and Pippa turned back to Oliver, who was still sitting on the stairs.
"So, you sure you're okay?" he probed again, standing.
"If you ask me that one more, I will blow my stack," she informed him.
"If it's about you feeling guilty, feeling like you've betrayed your husband-"
Oliver was cut off by a surprisingly forceful punch to his jaw.
"You do not know the first thing about my husband!" Pippa yelled.
"Pippa," it took a second for Oliver to get over his initial shock, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to come out that way."
"What way did you intend it to come out, exactly?"
"I'm feeling guilty too, because of Laurel, because of Felicity," he explained.
"That makes it a whole lot better than, doesn't it? My being third in line on Oliver Queen's booty call list."
Oliver set his mouth in a straight line, watching as Pippa ran her tongue along her teeth.
Their staring competition last a few minutes before Pippa's shoulders finally sagged.
"I guess I'll be seeing you around," she sighed, heading to the kitchen to fix herself some coffee.
Oliver sat back down on the stairs, waiting. It didn't take long for him to realise that she didn't want to see or talk to him again.
"I guess," he whispered to himself, closing the front door behind him.