NOTES: Darcy's POV. Another short chapter, didn't want to stretch this one out with unnecessary angst.

The next will make you guys very happy, no matter what your preference is about cute or funny or hurt-y or bittersweet or just plain sweet. I haven't written it yet, ofc, but I have a feelin its fixing to be a doozie ;)

I'll post soon! Stay safe, and happy reading, y'all! ❤️ ~Vinny

It was 8:14am, and the CEO of Pemberley Studios was swamped with work. He wasn't quite sure what was causing the spike in activity around the office, but suddenly his inbox was flooded with messages, his new phone was drowning in voicemails, and a tide of 'MUST READ' memos kept being swept across his desk.

And Fitzwilliam Darcy was currently watching raindrops meander down his gloomy top-floor window.

As you may have gathered from the water puns flowing through his mind, it was a wet kind of day in the city. The streets were soggy, the sky was monochrome, and his hair puffed up from the humidity. He ran a hand through it, absentmindedly, as he checked his email for the fourth time that day.

This time though, he wasn't disappointed. A huge grin lit up his face.

Quickly Darcy scanned the email from the Maid of Honor.

After the fiasco at the mall, Darcy had thrown himself into work and deep thought, and not much else. The exchanged emails were really his only form of communication.

And— astoundingly— the more he got to know the Maid of Honor, the better he felt!

Over the last week, their communication had been his one bright spot in what would have otherwise been 7 days of fog and rain and storms. Metaphorically, of course. The weather was fine. Though.. come to think of it, she was right about the weather changing over the month.. They should plan around that.

Before he could email her back though, his phone rang. Looking at the ID, Darcy made a face. Williams.

He spent a solid 30 seconds deliberating whether or not to answer.

He ending up doing it anyway.

"What is it, Williams? I'm busy." Darcy said, snappishly. He was only slightly guilty for the white lie; he DID have things to do, he just was… not… feeling like doing them.

"WHATEVER IT IS IT CAN WAIT!"

Darcy frowned. "Um. Okay. What?"

He could hear his cousin take a deep breath through the phone. "Lizzy is ready to talk again."

At the sound of her name, Darcy's heart did a somersault.

"Wh-what?" He cried, before lowering his voice. He scooted forward in his chair. "I mean, how do you know?"

"Dude I heard her talking! She tried to call you— MULTIPLE TIMES!" Williams' voice sounded excited, but nowhere near the fireworks that were currently going off in Darcy's stomach.

"Sh— She did?!" Frantically, he changed his phone to speaker, flipped to his voicemail, and scrolled through all the numbers listed. None of them were her's. He deflated slightly. "...She didn't."

There was a lengthy pause on the other end of the phone. Williams licked his lips. "Ah, did you.. by any chance… change numbers, when you got your new phone?"

His eyes widened, then narrowed as he ran the information back through his head.

"I… I shouldn't have? But… maybe?"

He pressed a button, and called Mrs Reynolds into his office. (He told Williams to shut up for a minute, so he could sort this all out without interruption.)

The elderly secretary opened the door looking like a finger-wagging housekeeper from some regency novel.

"Mr. Darcy, what can I do for you?" She said, her voice as prim and proper as always. Her slanted eyes, on the other hand, were saying'listen here you little shit, we're working overtime here and you better not waste any daylight jibber-jabbing.'

He cleared his throat. "Mrs. Reynolds, by any chance… did my phone number change.. when I got the new phone?"

She blinked.

"Oh. That's it? Why yes it did, dearie. Because the janitor threw away your broken phone, with the (what's it called) SIM card still inside, we had to replace it. I thought you would have just noticed— it's a completely different area code this time! Don't worry though, I messaged all the saved contacts and business clients about the switch."

"Thank you, that will be all," Darcy heard his voice saying. He felt the floor falling out from under him. Oh dear Christ, no...

The door slammed softly into the frame. His head slammed loudly onto the desk.

He had saved Lizzy's contact. Of course he had. He wasn't an idiot.

But… when she left him… he had changed it just to her phone number, again. It was the only string of digits he could memorize effortlessly— and.. it had been a little too tempting to see her name on the screen in recent conversations, knowing that she was just one click away. He had just never found the time or the strength to change it back.

"Hello? Hello? Darce, ya still there?"

"I changed the number," Darcy whispered into the empty air. "My phone number is completely different now."

"What?" Williams asked, his voice shrouded in static. "But— you at least told Lizzy. Right?"

"NO, I DIDN'T TELL LIZZY," he exploded. "She told me to give her SPACE! So that's what I DID! I GAVE HER SPACE AND DIDN'T CALL HER AND BEG HER TO COME BACK TO ME!"

There was a silence. It was only broken by the chipped sound of Darcy's breathing as it slowly calmed down, and stopped racking his chest with great gasps of air.

"Well…," his cousin's voice said, hesitantly, "She doesn't need space anymore. You can—"

"I can call her," Darcy said intensely. He was already pulling his phone away to dial her oh-so-familiar number when Williams' voice cut through his rising hopes.

"Aaah, maybe not, man," he hedged, "Given your track record… well.. you aren't very good with words. Especially not under stress. And… she's having a bad day."

"Oh." His heart fell again. It was a damn rollercoaster, this phone call. "Then what do I do?"

"I'll tell you what… how about you and me…."

As his cousin digressed into plans about how best he could win back Lizzy, Fitzwilliam Darcy listened attentively. At the same time, he was reading every form and memo he could, speeding through his daily work as fast as humanly possible. Still, even with this increased productivity, Darcy probably wouldn't be done until tomorrow, at best.

But he didn't care.

He was lost in daydreams, about what it would be like, seeing her smile again.

Just the thought was enough to make Darcy's stomach break out into butterflies, to make the time fly by like a flock of birds, and the gray skies fade back under the now rose-colored sheen of the window.

Things were looking up.