Fitz checked his watch and sighed. He was late and hated being late, especially when it came to Mellie. After all these years, two kids, divorce, lies, affairs, and years of loathing her with every inch of his being, the had finally come to this moment.
Sure, they had spent the holidays together with Olivia, the kids, his parents, Olivia's parents. However their personal reactions had been limited. A part of him liked the place they were in now; friendly and cordial. There was an air of formality to them that had taken the place of the hatred and scorn.
And the hatred might get even stronger tonight.
When Fitz stepped out the car, there were dozens of photographers waiting, yelling "Mr. President!" He smiled as he briskly made his way out of the bristling Washington cold and into the warm restaurant. His security detail was light tonight. Just two agents.
After all this time, he still felt a bit uneasy with agents. Now, with the enormous interest in his changing relationship status with Olivia, the press that followed him and become more persistent. Hence the rationale for him in having dinner with Mellie tonight.
1789 Restaurant was a preeminent restaurant in Washington D.C. He had many dinners, lunches and dates in this restaurant. In fact, this was the place he and a young Millicent had met for drinks years ago. When she was an aide to the White House. She was young, ambitious and smart. Sharp as a whip and a future as far as the eye could see.
He could see the prim girl in her pearls, talking a mile a minute in her Bostonian accent about how great Nixon was, all the while drinking her gin.
They had known each other since childhood, been in the same circles. To him, she was always annoying, whiny with a voice like nails on a blackboard. However, that night, she became his friend. A friend he would care about and worry about. A friend who he thought he could confide in. But with every passing year, every political fundraiser, every child and every promotion, raise and career opportunity his friend disappeared.
His friend had been replaced with a cold, cruel woman. A woman who mocked his idealism, his "smushy Nelson Rockefeller politics", derisively called him names and cheated on him.
As he made his way with the guide of the maître d' into the historical Middleburg Room, as he caught a glimpse of U.S Senator Millicent Valmont sipping gin, a part of him hoped a glimpse of that young White House aide would show herself once more.
Fitz would have chosen the F. Scott room. The dark paneling and sexy art deco had always provided great atmospherics whenever he wanted to take Olivia out on the town. That was theirs. Dancing, drinks, a private dinner in the F. Scott and the ballet.
The Middleburg Room seemed more apropos for this occasion. It was formal and very old Virginia. Stuffy almost if he were in his grandmother's old country home.
"What are you drinking?" Mellie asked politely, observing the menu.
Fitz smirked. "Cabernet Sauvignon sounds good."
Mellie's bright blue eyes widened with shock. "Since when do you drink wine? You are a scotch person Fitzgerald. Wine, a full bodied one at that, interesting?"
There was a mocking in her tone. A chiding. She was joking with him. It was all good intentioned.
"I can appreciate a good red every now and then." He said winking at her as he removed his blazer and hung it around the antique chair. This was nice. He had thought the empty room would have made for an awkward time, but this was nice. She seemed to be in a nice mood.
He noticed her eyeing him in a rather bizarre manner. It was as though she were registering mental notes in her mind.
"Another thing, since when do you wear Prada? I thought you were a Brooks Brothers kind of man." There was a much cooler note in her tone. She did not seem to be joking when she asked that question. He knew where this was headed and he did not like it one bit.
Fitz took a sip of his water to avoid answering it. The flicker in her eye no longer suggested their previous playfulness. She was a smart woman and she knew him. The wine could have been chalked up to anything. He could have said he was worrying about his health, was going to have the rack of lamb, which was true. The Prada? They both knew the answer to that.
The intimacy afforded to Olivia…
Fitz had been his father's son. Using his tailors, wearing the same suit designers, keeping the same barber until he became President.
No matter what, Mellie knew the rules when they were married. You never messed with a Grant man and his suits. Stuffy, WASPy brand names were his style. Not cutting edge Italian designers. Meaning the only reason why he was wearing Prada was because of Olivia.
This was true. She loved clothes and shopping. Whenever she saw anything that she thought he would look good in, she bought it for him. It was one of their relationship ticks, much like her putting on his ties for him, him making her breakfast in the morning and them taking hot bubble baths together.
The simple overpriced designer blazer had acted as an uncomfortable window for Mellie. It was another sign of the weight of Fitz's feelings for Olivia. How much he adored her, respected her opinion. Most importantly, the intimacy the shared. Olivia not only bought his clothes, she picked them. Something Mellie, or any woman married to a Grant man was never to do. But like all things, Olivia was the exception, not the rule.
Fitz coughed uncomfortably as the waiter made his way to the table. He could feel the tension fill the room, so many words left unsaid.
"Good evening Mr. President, it is an honor to have you and the First Lady-"
"Don't call me First Lady, I'm not his wife. I'm Senator to you; I think I've earned it." Mellie snapped coldly as she slammed the menu on to the table. The young waiter looked mollified, his pale face slowly turning red with embarrassment.
Fitz shook his head in disgust.
"I'm so sorry…I…I" The young man stammered as Mellie stared at her cuticles.
"It's fine son, you will have to excuse her. I won't be staying-"At those words, Mellie gasped dramatically.
"…I'll have a glass of the Cabernet Sauvignon, Beaulieu Vineyard, she, a Home Grown Salad and the Maine Lobster. "
The young waiter scribbled nervously, his hands shaking. As soon as he finished his writing, he moved to hurry out of the room, but Fitz caught his arm.
"Son?" He said softly, the young man, avoiding his gaze.
"Sir, I'm really sorry, I didn't know, please don't tell my boss-"
"It's fine, just calm down, go into the kitchen and tell your boss I gave you the night off. Here" Fitz pulled out his money clip from his wallet and slipped the boy a one hundred dollar bill.
"It's on me. Have fun tonight." He said smiling. The young man nodded, smiling widely and made his way out the door.
Fitz sat back in his chair, and observed Mellie who was clearly not embarrassed by her behavior.
"Too much gin?" He asked sarcastically.
She rolled her eyes. "Not enough."
"What's your problem?"
She sighed deeply. "Look, just tell me what you have to tell me. I have a meeting for the Ways and Means Committee first thing tomorrow and I want to look like I spent the whole night sleeping for a change."
She checked her watch, avoiding Fitz's gaze. His blood was boiling and his fuse was shortening by the minute. She never would change. In a brief moment, when he first walked in the room he saw that girl, the one in the pearls.
"Olivia and I are getting married." He said coolly.
She snorted in a very obnoxious and un-Mellie like manner. She was now drumming her fingers on the table, her lips pursed in anger.
"So? Everyone knows this. We all saw the Barbara Walters special, by the way I decorated the library, when you were giving Babs the tour, you might have wanted to mentioned that when the two of you were gushing-
"Mel-"
"About your damn date nights when you read Hemmingway to one another. You might have wanted to mention to me that the maid accidentally walked in on you and Olivia in that room last summer, but she never said anything? The embarrassment she must have felt-
"Mellie!" Fitz yelled.
Mellie looked outraged. He had enough. At this point, he was not even sure he wanted to even finish his wine. This was a disaster. There was an uncomfortable silence that that blanketed the room.
"So, like I was saying, we are getting married-"
"Like I said before, we all saw it. The ring is nice. A bit gaudy, but nice."
"The ring is a family heirloom thank you very much." Another slap to the face for Mellie. She had wanted that ring. It was practically priceless.
"Now, moving on, before you interrupted me. We are getting married; we are planning an engagement party."
"Allison Whitaker." Mellie said coolly.
Now Fitz had enough. He through his hands in air exasperated. "I'm sorry, Millicent, are you playing Mad Libs or do you have an onset of Tourette's?"
She rolled her eyes. "Allison Whitaker is one of the most well-respected event planners in the country. She does the Oscars, a few of Langston's State Dinners. She did the Clinton girl's wedding. Rumor has it she was seen having lunch on K Street, near Olivia's offices. It was in Page Six. So the fact you are getting married is not news. Then again, with you and Olivia, I never expected a long engagement."
He was stunned. He never expected her to follow them in that way. She was playing with her fork now.
"Right." He coughed, clearing his throat. "So, the engagement party should be sometime in the spring. Whenever we are done with the details, we will let you know."
"We, is it? Nice. Why are you telling me this?" She asked coldly, folding her arms.
"Because we have two children who don't know how soon we are getting married. So I would like you to join Olivia and I in telling them. They are flying in to spend next weekend with us-"
"Why?"
Fitz was confused. "Why what?"
"Why? Why her? Why did you have to marry her? I mean, yes, we are done, I'm moving on, moved on. But every time the two of you take another step, the house, moving in together, the holidays, the fucking interview, why do I feel like this? I shouldn't care but I do? Why does it hurt?"
Her eyes were filling up with tears, her cheeks were red. A waiter, an older waiter rolled in the tray of their orders, the wonderful smells of food playing with his nostrils. He was tempted to eat, but he checked his watch.
"Do you have someplace to be?" Mellie asked through her tears, her voice racked with sorrow. Her mascara was running down her pretty little cheeks and her perfect coif was now messy from running her hand frustrated in her hair.
"Thanks. " Fitz smiled to the waiter as he took a sip of his wine. "No, no I don't. I just don't want to get home late."
Fitz felt a stab of frustration. Why was she still behaving like this? It had been quite a while since he had seen her unhinged. Even when she had visited him in California all those months ago, there was a sense of a woman with purpose. But this woman, who was crying softly, seemed lost, confused.
"Mel-"
"He broke it off. Peter. He did not want kids, he did not want marriage. He's moving back down south soon. Got a job on the board of a marketing firm."
Fitz's heart broke for her. He did not know what to say. He reached out and took her hand softly, caressing it. This really hurt him. It cut him deep to see her like this. Especially when he was dwelling in the afterglow of his recent engagement. He could sense some distance between the two during the Christmas holidays but he did not think much of it. Now it made sense.
"Mellie, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I didn't come to gloat…I…damn. I just wanted you to feel a part of this. At the end of it all, when it is all said and done, we have two children. We were friends Mel. And we can still be friends. We can start-"
"How? How can we be friends. How? Everything about you is her. If I'm friends with you, I have to accept it. I thought I had. You and her together. You don't have to say her name, Fitzgerald, but she's in this room. She's the suit you're wearing, the way you smile, the wine you drink. The goddamn wine you drink. As long as I've known you Fitz, I could not get you to so much as drink a desert wine, all of a sudden, you are this guy? How can I be friends with you when the very thing that broke our friendship is the thing that makes you who you are? How can we be friends?"
Her voice was soft, fragile and broken. It was the kind of voice he only heard in the rarest of moments with Mellie. She was soft, everything from the blush in her cheeks from her tears and drinking.
He was blown away at the level of candor she was displaying. "We can start by you doing this more. Mel, I care about you. You are the mother of my children. I will always care about you. I'm sorry I hurt you, and I know I've said this before a thousand times. But Mellie, I'm not going to apologize for loving Olivia. I can't. The sooner you accept that, the easier it will be for us to be friends.
He wanted to right his wrong. Fitz wished he could go back in time and change some things. He wished he had not been so cold. But the other side of his conscious, the very loud part connected to his heart, his body and soul knew he would not give up his life with Olivia now for anything. In all the happiness he had found, there came a price. The unfortunate part was, he was not paying for it.