Closer

Chapter 10

Fitz knew Cyrus was speaking to him, but the words were only a series of syncopated sounds and silences. He was hyper focused on his calendar because he wanted to see Olivia. They hadn't seen each other in four days, 6 hours and 3 minutes by his calculation, an unfortunate circumstance he was intent on rectifying. To do this he needed to change his own calendar, which was usually controlled by Ms. Hanley.

He didn't like the extended game of phone tag they were playing, leaving and retrieving voice mail messages, the waiting for a return phone call. No amount of text messages could make up for it. He wanted to see her face to face, read her expressions, and talk to her live. Touching her and kissing her was a guarantee given their undeniable attraction. More would be heaven but at this point he wasn't in any rush to have sex. A part of him feared that having sex with her prematurely would jeopardize their budding romance even though she had seemed very willing.

Olivia was an enigma to him, and he hadn't quite figured her out yet. Fitz was good at reading people. His job required it. He also loved puzzles, the more challenging the better. She was certainly that, a lesson in contrasts. She could be lively or stoic, passionate or reserved, and, dry or comical. How could she have tricked him into believing she was a conservative evangelical Christian, Mary Joseph?. He would have never guessed she could pull that off. She'd propositioned him with sex to get him to leave her alone. She'd professed to be asexual. They'd argued over some of this favorite topics including he merits or lack thereof of the Electoral College. How could all these personas be in one person. Her personality changed like a kaleidoscope. He sensed this was intentional, tactic to keep people at arms length. That's what he saw when he looked at her pictures in Vanity Fair. She was giving the outside world what she thought they wanted, anything but herself. This chameleon like quality could be used for sinister purposes. In her case it was a useful tool. She assessed a situation and shored up what was needed to navigate it successfully.

During their last date, he was certain she was beginning to open up to him as the authentic Olivia Pope. He wanted to know her. That couldn't happen without spending some serious quality time in person and alone with her. He wasn't going to let his job or hers stand in the way.

"We should reschedule, sir. You aren't even trying to pretend you are listening to me. I can speak with Ms. Hanley about setting up a better time. Keep in mind that we need to discuss these pardons and sentence reduction applications soon, Governor Grant," said Cyrus, gathering the binder, his cell phone, coffee mug, and walking to the door."

"Yes, I think that will work," Fitz said to himself, his eyes trained on the screen, "Now, I'm gonna have to hope she is free."

At his words, Cyrus stopped at the door and turned around. "Hope who is free, Governor Grant? Is there something I can help you with?"

Fitz raised his head and peered at Cyrus. "Oh, Cyrus…" he said, remembering his presence in the room, "Apologies for my lack of attention. Ms. Hanley has been scheduling me like a robot these days. I've had no personal time so I'm taking a look at it, moving some things around and blocking off some time."

Cyrus returned to his chair, took a seat, and placed his belongings back on the table.

"Governor, this is the way of the workload at the end of a term, unfortunate but necessary like a root canal. It's all about getting everything in before you have to leave. In your case, you want a second term so you are doing double duty, being two people, the outgoing governor and hopefully the newly elected one," Cyrus explained, clasping his hands together in strategy mode, "Let me help you. What are you trying to schedule? Something with Karen? Your mom? One of your sisters?"

Fitz smiled, mildly amused at Cyrus and his willful ignorance. His trusty chief of staff sometimes coped with not getting his way by pretending the obstacles did not exist. He had told him about his intent to date Olivia Pope weeks ago. Fitz hadn't given Cyrus details, but he knew that Cyrus suspected he was seeing her since he hadn't nagged him about dating. This is what they did for those issues about which they disagreed. Fitz listened to Cyrus' arguments. If Fitz wasn't swayed, he would do what he wanted. Cyrus would ignore the issue until circumstances demanded he either try to convince Fitz to change or he would have to accept the decision and move on while helping Fitz carry it out.

"You can check one thing off the to do list, Cy. I am officially dating. It's been difficult to get together with her the last couple of days due to my overloaded schedule so I've created time," Fitz said even though he knew Olivia would not agree with his assessment of their relationship status.

Cyrus stood up and squeezed that place between his eyes, a sure sign of stress. When he faced him down, Fitz knew they were about enter the stage where Cyrus was going to argue with him against dating Olivia.

"Sir, with all due respect, are you serious? You can't be. You have to know this is political suicide. You are going to bring the wrong kind of attention to yourself. Are you ready for that kind of scrutiny? Is she ready? This will not be fun. The relationship will be grist for the rumor mill and not just the political ones. It will be this re-election campaign's undoing. I saw the article about her and her company in Vanity Fair. I mean no disrespect to her, but you may as well be dating a porn star. Before you say those pictures she took were for promotional purposes, let me say that those pictures will be all the average voter sees. They won't read the article nor care that she owns her own company. We live in a society that is sexually repressed but very sexually active, a dangerous combination. No matter how much we try to spin her as a woman empowering other women, it won't work. This is not the right context for that. The purpose of this campaign is not to educate the public on—" Cyrus contended.

Fitz stood as well, holding up his hands. "Cyrus…Cyrus…," he said, "I don't need lectures, though by your compelling arguments, it is obvious you've been thinking about how to spin my relationship, but there is no need. We are moving slow and getting to know each other. We haven't gone out together in public yet."

Cyrus squinted as if he were trying to see something far away. His cerebral wheels were turning. "That could work. Keep it secret. We'd have to be discreet, sir, but I would recommend you choose someone to be be a sort of stand in public girlfriend. She could go with you to functions where a plus one is appropriate," he said.

Fitz chuckled. "Cy, now I can ask you the same question," he said, "Are you serious? You are proposing I choose a fake girlfriend to take to functions while keeping my real girlfriend a secret. Where will I get a fake girlfriend, Cy? What would I have to do to keep her quiet about the whole arrangement? Would we construct an identify for her? Have you been watching that show, "The Girlfriend Experience"? Is that what you are proposing, but she would perform for the public? Don't you think that would be political suicide, far more dangerous than hiring an escort. What if someone found out I had a real and a fake girlfriend? I would rather not create some grand fabrication as if I have something to hide. I won't live my life that way, Cyrus. Not anymore."

Cyrus opened his mouth but closed it again like a fish out of water.

"I should probably take a look at those pardons and sentence reduction applications. Are there any interesting ones? How many slots do I have open?" Fitz asked, returning to his desk.

Cyrus took his seat and reached for the binder. "You have 3 slots open to add to your current list of pardons. Here is the binder of all the applications," he said, extending it to Fitz," I have tabbed the ones I think you should consider. There's one that really stands out for consideration, Ronald Levine. His parole hearing is in a couple of months."

"Okay, I'll take a look at it, Cy," Fitz said, taking the binder and setting it on his desk.

"Pregnant? Abiba? But how? I thought she was antisexual," Abby said, stacking and restacking the papers on the table in front of her.

"Asexual," Olivia corrected, noticing how uncomfortable Abby appeared, "She deceived us in the meeting because she thought it would help her get hired, and she was correct."

"What are you going to do about it, Liv?" said Harrison. His eyes darted to Abby, checking to see if she was looking at him before he stared at her.

Olivia wondered why Abby and Harrison were acting strangely around each other as if they were trying to avoid the other. Had this been their first meeting since the debacle, she would have attributed it to the awkwardness of knowing your boss saw you ass bare in a threesome. Since they had many meetings since she'd formally disciplined them, she didn't know what was the cause.

"At this point, I'm not doing anything. I've spoken with Abiba about it and she's given me assurance that she will continue working as long as she can. I don't have the time to launch another search. I don't want to fire anyone else. With Esther gone, that would be too many in a short period. The staff may begin to feel uneasy which will bring down productivity. What I will need is for you, Abby, to support her in any way you can. Keep an eye on her. She mentioned how clients might feel uncomfortable when she starts to show. Think about what we should do," Olivia said.

As she thought about whether to mention the palatable discomfort in the room, she glanced at the avant garde wall clock and noted the time. It was an hour before noon. She wondered what Fitz was doing. Would he call her today or maybe later? Should she call him since they had missed each other's calls in the last several days? When will they see each other in person again. She wanted to call him instead of waiting for his call.

"I'll definitely begin thinking about that. Is it okay for me to approach her now? Have you told her you would tell me?" Abby asked.

"Don't approach her yet, Abby. I need to speak with her one more time. Harrison, I need you to do some research on David Oshiro from Lotus. Anything you can find on him, professional, personal…" Olivia said.

"Okay…Why do you need information on him? Are we looking to hire a new designer?" he asked.

"I'll let you know, Harrison. Just get me the information as soon as you can," Olivia said, "I feel some tension in the room. Are we fine? Is there something we need to address? Let's discuss it now."

Both Abby and Harrison looked at Olivia like alert gamecocks.

"No, Olivia. Everything is fine…" Abby said.

"All is well," said Harrison.

"That's good. You can both leave now. Thanks," said Olivia.

When they left the office, Olivia let her head fall back on her office chair. Maybe the unease she felt was her own. The strain that comes from working late around the clock and rising early. Although she had enjoyed the 2 times they had dinner, she didn't like thinking about him while she worked. It was a distraction she didn't need. Work should be work and should not mix with whatever they were doing. Before she could talk herself out of it, she dialed his number.

"Hello," Fitz said.

"Hello, may I speak with Governor Grant?" Olivia began.

"This is my personal cell phone. You never have to ask to speak to me on this line. When I answer, you have me," he said.

"Oh…I…I suppose I knew that," she said, "Are you available to talk or should I call you at a later—"

He chuckled softly. "Yes, I'm available. And even if wasn't I'd talk to you. We've been playing an epic game of phone tag the last couple of days. You've been busy?" he asked.

"We are in the process of rebranding. New website, logo, everything…Between that and day-to-day operations, I'm working every moment," she explained.

"I want to see you," he said, his voice dropping just enough to communicate a shared intimacy, "Are you free tonight? I'll come to you."

Olivia placed the phone to her chest and drew in a deep ragged breath. She couldn't understand how the subtle modulation of his tone could reduce her to forgetting how to breath normally.

"Yes, I'd like that," she said after pulling the phone back to her ear, "I can cook something for us."

Olivia regretted offering to cook as soon as the words spilled out. She didn't have the patience or strength for cooking today. It wasn't in her plan. Since hearing his voice after a couple of days of texting and listening to recorded voice messages, she just wanted to see him.

"Since this is short notice, I'll bring dinner. Would you eat pizza with me? I know a good gourmet pizza place…" he said.

"That sounds good. I'll provide dessert," she offered, though to her it sounded like a double entendre. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think of something else to say that would shift the attention.

"Olivia, I want to ask you a question, but I don't want you to feel compelled to respond if you don't want to," he said.

"Go ahead. Ask away," she said.

"Was the present I sent you too much? It seemed like a smart idea-I was going for smart and sexy-after the great time we had together at dinner, but now that I haven't seen you in a couple days, I'm wondering if it was more an...an asshole move. I don't want to seem presumptuous, Olivia. I wasn't trying to be…be..." he said.

He sounded so genuine which made her feel something she couldn't identify. She smiled.

"No, I liked it that you sent it. It was totally unexpected, I'll admit. I laughed out loud. It was a genuine guffaw, Fitz. I haven't guffawed or said the word guffaw since I was a little girl and used to read it in books. But I'll say that the verdict is still out on whether you are an asshole. There is still your holding me against my will that time after having me kidnapped. That puts you pretty high up on the asshole meter," she said.

It was his time to guffaw. They shared a hearty one together.

"So tell me how you became a mogul of the intimate products industry," Fitz asked, grabbing his second slice of pizza.

He had convinced her to have a pizza picnic on her living room floor. They were sitting cross legged and facing each other on a red and white checkered blanket with paper plates and plastic cutlery. The wicker picnic basket was their table on which they ate pepperoni pizza.

"I'm not exactly a mogul, Fitz," she said, picking a piece of pepperoni from the pizza and popping it in her mouth.

"Don't be modest. I think you are stalling because you don't want to tell me," he said, taking a swig of beer.

"I'm not being modest or stalling. There is not much to tell. I was a temporary receptionist at the company that existed before Euphoria. Within five years, I was named president," Olivia said, deliberately taking a big bite of her pizza hoping he would ask more questions. He was right. She didn't want to talk to him about the past.

Fitz mirrored her, taking a big bite of his pizza. They watched each other chew.

Olivia took a napkin and swiped a small dollop of sauce from the corner of his mouth.

He closed the pizza box and moved the wicker basket to the side, removing the barrier between them.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

Olivia closed the space between them and sat on his lap, straddling him. It was as if she was watching herself, her eyes were the screens from within and outside herself. She could tell he was aroused and excited, but he stayed still yet watchful. She braced her hands against his chest, looking down and the small space between them, just enough for her bent arms. His hands rested on her waist. Her hands rose and fell with the the rise and fall of his breathing, calming her. She finally looked into his eyes.

"I'm thinking, 'Where did you come from?' I'm thinking that you, this…us…is so unexpected. I'm thinking that being with you like this doesn't fit into my life, but as my therapist would say," she said, glancing away from his intense gaze to collect her thoughts and then back, "'Olivia, what are you feeling not thinking?' I'm feeling…this tremendous desire…to be as close to you as I can…but…"

The tears in her eyes didn't register until she felt the pads of her thumbs rubbing them away.

"But…" he said, encouraging her to continue.

She swallowed. "I can't because…it would require me to…I just can't. I thought I could, but you make me feel defenseless…" she said, looking away again.

He cupped her face and pulled her back. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. You don't need defenses around me. I want whatever—" he said, but she silenced him with her lips.

His hands fell away from her face, resting on either side of his thighs. Knowing he was holding back deepened her hunger for him. She grasped either side of his face and feasted on his lips. After awhile, he pulled back and kissed his way down the side of her neck. Olivia was lost in her feelings. Contradicting her words, she reached for his belt buckle. Fitz groaned. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her fingers to his lips. He kissed each hand and said, his voice raspy, "How about that dessert you promised."

She smiled and nodded moving off him. He held her still.

"Hold on tight," he said, rising to his feet while she was still in his arms, "It's obvious that you can't get enough of me so I'll keep you close for your own sake. Direct me to the dessert."

She gave carefree giggle, the sound unfamiliar to her ears, as he carried her into the kitchen.

"Fitz, don't drop me," she said, "It's the box on the counter by the bread box."

"I have winter coats heavier than you," he said, depositing her on the counter. He picked up the pink baker's box and opened it, revealing two cupcakes piled high with icing. He read the names of each cupcake, "Bliss and salted caramel. Hmmm…Please describe the flavors so I'll know which one I want."

"Bliss is a white almond cupcake with almond buttercream icing. Salted caramel is a white caramel cupcake with caramel buttercream icing, a caramel drizzle and sprinkles," she explained.

"Wow. I love it when you describe the flavors. It is very sexy," he said, giving her a light kiss on the lips. She grinned against his lips.

"I would recommend the Bliss," she advised, "The salted caramel is good, but it can be a little too much…overwhelming with the icing, drizzle, and sprinkles."

He leaned his head against hers, the cupcake box still in his hand. "I bet you taste like salted caramel," he whispered. He selected that cupcake and set the box down.

Olivia moved her head against his and hooked her legs around his waist. "I bet you taste like Bliss," she said.

"Touché," he said, presenting the cupcake to her, "I'd like to taste the icing first."

She swiped some of the icing from the top and tapped on his lips. He opened his mouth and nipped at her finger, but she pulled back and sucked the icing off her own finger.

He set the cupcake down and leaned into her, his voice was serious. "Olivia, I heard what you said. I want to be close to you too, as close as two people can be. Something is holding you back. I'm here, sweetheart, and I don't plan on going anywhere."

Olivia pushed two pieces of gum in her mouth. "Dr. Chase, I don't know how this happened. I like him too much," she said, "and I don't like it. I don't like thinking about him when I'm at work. I don't like any of this." Olivia found herself at Dr. Chase's office the next morning apologetic for showing up outside her scheduled, but not really scheduled time. With 30 minute before his first appointment, he gave her a session.

Dr. Chase pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "When you are thinking about him, I assume when he's not around, are you distracted to the point of being unproductive?" he asked.

Olivia shook her head.

"What is it that you feel that distresses you so since it is not interfering with your work, Olivia?" he asked.

She chewed and thought about it. "I feel a little anxious but excited about the prospect of seeing or talking to him," she said.

"Why do these feelings upset you, Olivia" Dr. Chase asked.

"Isn't anxiety bad? Excitement is okay, I guess, but I'd rather be calm. And he's always asking me questions about my past. I don't want to talk about the past. It is just that. The past," she said.

"Anxiety is not pleasant, but I don't think you are experiencing anxiety. What you seem to be experiencing is normal. You are attracted to him. You enjoy spending time with him. You seem to be in the first stages of a relationship. It's called infatuation. This is healthy as long as it doesn't impede your daily functioning, which would possibly make it obsession," Dr. Chase explained.

"What should I do?" she asked.

"Olivia, I can't tell you what to do, but I'd like to make a recommendation," he said, reaching into his desk. He pulled out a small leather booklet. "This is a journal, Olivia. I'd like you to write in this journal whenever you like, but especially when you are feeling anxious and excited. Write your feelings, your motivations, and actions. Read back over what you have written when you feel ready."

Olivia took the journal and looked at it like she'd never seen one before.

"My son ate both of the cupcakes," Fitz said. Then he yawned. It was almost midnight. Fitz had stopped by her place after work, but he could only stay for an hour since he was due to have dinner with his parents. He'd called her after his parents had gone home. They had been talking for about 90 minutes when the yawn escaped.

"Really? I'm sorry. Those cupcakes are pretty irresistible," she said.

"Gerry is like a human tornado when food, but especially any baked goods, are involved," he said.

"Are you still working?" she asked.

"Yes. I am reviewing applications for pardons and or sentence reductions. I'm having a difficult time choosing since they are all compelling stories. I'll make my final decision tomorrow or I could let you decide for me," he teased.

"I wouldn't be the best to choose. I am not very sympathetic," she said, "I'd only want to pardon turkeys. I should let you get back to work. Unfortunately, I won't be able to see you tomorrow night. I have a working dinner."

"Fortunately, we will see each other tomorrow night. Isn't your working dinner at the New York Women's Foundation fundraiser?" he said.

"Yes, how did you know?" she asked, surprised.

"I, my dear, am the keynote speaker. I was working on my speech today and saw Euphoria, Inc. as one of the benefactors. We could raise some serious eyebrows if you'd be my plus one. Better yet, the folks are filled with rich people who need to be stimulated if you know what I mean. Your sales might double. You could sit at the head table," he said, trying to entice her.

"As much as I like raising eyebrows and making money, I wouldn't want to do anything to take the attention away from the fundraising or your speech," she said.

He chuckled. "Okay, I won't beg. It'll be nice to see you sitting in the audience," he said, "Sweet dreams, Olivia."

"Sweet dreams, Fitz."

When he hung up, she pulled out her journal and pen.