Olivia's POV

I only call you when it's half past five
The only time that I'll be by your side
I only love it when you touch me, not feel meT
When I'm fucked up, that's the real me
When I'm fucked up, that's the real me, yeah
I only fuck you when it's half past five
The only time I'd ever call you mine
I only love it when you touch me, not feel me
When I'm fucked up, that's the real me
When I'm fucked up, that's the real me, babe

I turn up the song with the fancy glass sound system knob. I had a bigger migraine going through Fitz's R&B music playlist but this song is not that bad at all. It's by an artist called the Weeknd and despite it's lyrics, it's actually very slow and sophisticated. The music soothes my headache.

Seeing Fitz was...I can't even explain it. It seems so unreal that he was actually right there in front of me. My memory is foggy, so if I wasn't sitting in his sports car, I would deny that we saw each other.

But we did. We did saw each other. I puked my guts out and he was there for me. A guy I came across five long years ago was there for me when my husband wasn't.

I don't want to think about seeing him. I don't want to think about how good he looked with in his fitted suit. I don't want to think about how his hands pressed against my waist when he was helping me up. I don't want to think about his face cradled in my hands.

If I think about that, I might fall for him again.

The only reason that I don't drop asleep right now is because I am driving his very fancy very expensive car and I don't want to crash it. I'm nervous to even drive it and I'm shocked he let me. If I owned a car like this, i wouldn't let anybody touch it, let alone drive it.

I didn't tell Jake goodbye and I don't think he cares. I don't think I could manage seeing him right now. I think if I saw him, I wouldn't feel guilty. I would just be so mad that he screwed me over all day today.

It's not until I pull into Mrs. Ballard's townhouse when I realize that there's obviously no booster seat in the car. There's no back seats either - it's just two front seats. Am I supposed to sit my four year old down on the passenger seat?

I don't know - I don't care. I would rather do that than leave Savannah with Jake's mom. She's nice and everything but she's overbearing and overly affectionate towards Anna and my baby girl doesn't like attention that much. She's not rude or anything towards Mrs. Ballard. She's just not close to her, like she's not close to anyone except me.

I go up to the house and Ms. Ballard swings open the door before I even knock. She's holding Savannah, who looks really upset.

When Savannah sees me, she opens up her arms and smiles big. I smile back and open the screen door, taking her from Mrs. Ballard, who looks upset, as always, to see me. There was a time where Mrs. Ballard was infatuated with me, but that went away after Jake didn't fuck with me anymore. She thinks I'm destroying her son or something like that. Little does she know that her granddaughter isn't hers.

"Olivia," she greets coldly, looking out in her driveway. "Where is my son? And whose car is that? Yours?"

I laugh nervously, trying to lighten the mood. "I wish. And I wasn't feeling so good so I left the party a bit early."

Mrs. Ballard nods hesitantly. "I'm going to get Savannah's bag."

She leaves without inviting me in. I don't mind. I hug Savannah tightly against my body. "Hi, Princess. How was Grandma's house?"

"I'm thired mommy," Savannah leans her head on my shoulder. I look down and from the moonlight, I can see just how beautiful my baby girl is. She's got thick, curly light brown hair that comes to the middle of her back. Her skin is white with a light coffee cream complexion. And of course, she has the big blue eyes everyone is in love with. Jake's not stupid enough to not question the eyes, since his are green and mine brown. But since his father and mother both have blue eyes (just my luck), he let up on the suspicion.

"I know, baby," I sway from side to side with Savannah in my arms. "I know, sweetheart."

Four Years Ago

"Her eyes are blue," Jake notes.

I turn to him. He's sitting on the other side of the bed, Savannah sitting on his stomach, his arms supporting her back.

This is the first time in the two days she's been home that she's been being held by him without bursting into tears.

I look at my daughter. Her eyes have been open plenty of times during the four days she's been on this earth, but only for short periods of time. She's a pretty mellow baby - she sleeps most of the time when she's not screaming when she's around Jake. It's not just Jake she hates being held by. She hates being held by everyone who isn't me.

I, been having held her the most, have obviously noticed her eyes were a bright shade of blue. I guess I knew Jake would notice that very soon. I just didn't expect it to be right now. I close the magazine I'm reading. "Really?"

"Yeah," Jake replies slowly. "Her eyes. They're like, bright blue."

"Huh," I pick up the magazine again and skim through it nervously. "I guess she takes after her grandparents."

Jake peers his glance from my daughter and turns to me. "Yeah. I guess so."

X

When I think about it some more, I realize that Savannah was never close to Jake. Like I said, Jake isn't a bad father. Savannah just doesn't think of him as a dad. Maybe as the uncle who buys her things but doesn't talk to her. Or doesn't make an effort to better their relationship. A lot of people who know Savannah think she's stuck up because she's not a cuddly, loud, affectionate little girl. They think she's some bratty, know-it-all. But that couldn't be further from the truth.

My little girl has so much love to give him her tiny heart. She has got so many smiles to spread. And she's got a lifetime of memories ahead of her. She's very sweet but she just feels so left out of everything. So many times she's isolated because she's different than kids her age. It breaks my heart. But she's not cold - she's the sweetest kid I know.

When Mrs. Ballard returns with the purple baby bag, she doesn't say goodbye to Savannah or me. I couldn't care less. Savannah, as tired as she may be, lights up when she sees how cool the car is. "Thith car ith tho cool, Mommy! Is i gonna thit in the front?"

I laugh, opening the passenger side with my free hand. The door flies up and Savannah shrieks delightedly. She crawls in, probably ecstatic that there's no booster seat waiting for her. I cross to the other side and get myself settled in after latching her seat belt onto her.

There are probably safer and more legal things than keeping your four year old daughter in the front seat of a sports car but my judgment is severely impaired and seeing my daughter happier than she has been in a long time really is worth it. The ride is only about ten minutes anyway.

She leans up in her seat and smashing her face and palms against the window with a huge smile. "I lofe this car, Mommy. Can we keep it foreva?"

I grin, putting the keys in the ignition. "Yup, this is definitely a cool car, baby. But we can't keep it."

Savannah looks sad, but distracted by all the foreign car features. "Why not, Mommy?"

I pull out of the driveway carefully. "Because, sweetheart, it isn't ours."

She seems satisfied with my answer, maybe just because she's infatuated with her fancy seat belt. A few seconds later, she speaks up again. "Whose car ith it, Mommy?"

I smile. "A friend's."

X

"Wake up."

That's the first thing I hear. I can't see anything - I don't know how long it's been or whether it's morning or night. I just am woken by Jake's voice and his hand shaking my shoulder less than gently.

"What?" I mumble, rubbing my eyes. I open them - it's night. And the bedroom is so dark that I can only make out Jake's shadow hovering over me. I still feel Savannah laying down on my chest, where I left her. Both her little arms are wrapped around my neck tightly and her head is on my shoulder.

My eyes go over to the digital alarm clock on my nightstand. The little, red numbers read, '3:01 AM'.

I look back at Jake, inhale and then immediately regret it when I smell alcohol. It makes sense though - if the dinner ended around midnight, he would have plenty of time to stop by a bar and drink his liver out. I'm not surprised. I just wish tequila wasn't reeking out of his pores in such close proximity to my daughter.

I really don't want to fight with him right now. I have had a relatively good night, besides getting sick and having that whole Savannah scare this afternoon. I got to see Fitz and I got to go home, take a NyQuil and go to sleep with my baby. I wasn't thinking about the future. I wasn't thinking about reality. But it looks like I'm forced to now.

"What?" I repeat, sighing.

Despite how he smells, Jake doesn't sound drunk. He just sits down by my legs, speaking calmly but coldly. "Whose car is that outside?"

I close my eyes again and lean my head on top of Savannah's, who is still fast asleep. "My friend's. I couldn't find you after I got sick. I assumed you knew I found a ride and went home. And I assumed you didn't care."

Jake doesn't argue my last remark. "That out there is a Mercedes SLS. Two front seater. There are no seats in the back. How did Savannah get home? Don't you tell me she rode in the passenger seat. Don't you fucking dare."

I open my eyes and roll them. Jake's the one the one who always enforced the no cursing around Savannah rule, so I don't know how he does it so comfortably. I, of course, don't curse regularly around Anna but sometimes 'shit' or 'damn' slip out and Savannah doesn't pick up on it. Even though I don't want Savannah to yell these words from the rooftops, I don't consider curse words 'bad'. I don't want Savannah to say them but I honestly think using harmful words like 'stupid' or 'ugly' hurt people a lot more than 'shit'. I don't understand how people will be terrified to hear their child curse but don't bat an eyelash when they hear their kid call a sibling 'dumb'. I never want Savannah growing up thinking it's okay to hurt kids' feelings with degrading put downs like that.

Jake, however, doesn't care. He doesn't care about the fact that he just dropped the f-bomb in front of her either. He just keeps going on. He speaks quietly, as to not wake up Savannah, but I can feel the anger and hatred in his voice. "Except you did, right? You put Savannah in the front seat of a sports car, disregarding all concerns. Forgetting that above all, you are a mother. You talk a great game about me having to change, but what about you? You completely disregarded the safety of my daughter."

I stare at Jake. I can barely see him from the darkness of the room but I could feel his resentment from a mile away if I had to. I realize now that this isn't about the car or even Savannah. Jake knows me - he knows that I am a safe driver and protecting my baby always come first to me. And Since when has Jake ever put her safety in priority?

Ever since she was a baby, he would let me make decisions without thinking twice. I guess that's because he never cared. He let me name her, put her in the schools of my choice, buy her everything and make every choice without being involved. I always assumed it's because he trusted me but I am slowly realizing that wasn't the case. He never cared about Savannah.

I wonder if he ever loved her. I always assumed he did. Because what type of guy doesn't love a girl he thinks is his daughter? Especially when a girl is as sweet, beautiful and smart as Savannah?

Jake, I guess.

But no, this argument isn't about her. None of them ever are. It's about us. All the hatred, anger, frustration and resentment that's built up over these five years.

Jake never forgave me for what happened in LA. He never will. He just felt obligated to a baby he thought was his. Or maybe he felt like our relationship could be salvaged. But it can't. Because I am starting to question whether I ever even loved him, or whether I was just lonely and naive enough to let him take over my life.

I think it's the previous. I remember a long time ago, being completely and utterly in love with him. He meant everything to me. And I was willing to give up whatever. Maybe it was lust. Maybe it was me being young. Or maybe it was Jake being a genuinely good guy back then. Whatever it was, it's gone now. I'm a middle aged woman and I have a daughter that means the world to me.

It's time to start focusing on her.

It's time to start focusing on us.

I take a deep breath. "No, I didn't. No, I didn't, because Savannah isn't your daughter, Jake."

I can't see his expression - it's too dark.

I don't mean to sound lame, but after I say that, I feel a huge weight lifted off my shoulders - a weight I didn't even know I was carrying. It feels so good to get it off. Even though this is the lowest point in my life, it feels like I am on Mount Everest.

I'm not a complete bitch - I feel bad for Jake. I had my reasons for lying when I did. But the whole parenting thing didn't seem to affect him too much. He wasn't even fucking here most of the time.

"Wha-" Jake clears his throat. "How?"

I clear mine as well. My hands are shaky on Savannah's back and my palms are sweaty. My throat is dry and my heart is beating fast. But I feel alright. I feel free. Maybe I even feel...happy? "Five years ago. I cheated, remember? Of course you do - that's why you despised me over these years. You never let me forget it."

"Whose is it?" Jake demands quietly.

I feel a tear run down the corner of my eye. I'm not exactly sad, but I don't appreciate Jake calling my daughter an 'it'. And I definitely don't appreciate him acting like he cares now. "Does it even matter?"

"No," Jake gets up, speaking a bit louder. "I guess it doesn't. You don't matter either. You're dead to me."

"Haven't I been for a long time?" I ask, feeling like laughing. It's so funny to me how long it's been since our marriage had any meaning. "It's whatever, Jake. You never cared. You never loved her."

"That's not for you to say, you selfish little..." Jake crosses the bedroom and flicks on the light. He faces the doorway, away from me. "I want you gone. Away. Out of this house."

He really doesn't have to tell me twice. I swing my legs on the other side of the bed, still holding Savannah close to me. I shove my feet in some Ugg boots and lay Savannah on the bed so I can grab a suitcase out of the closet. "Okay."

"Okay?" Jake snarls. "So you're just gonna walk away from this? Five years?"

"That's what you just asked me to do," I grab an armful of sweaters and blouses from the closet and take that and the roll on suitcase with me to the bed. I lift it up and open it, stuffing the clothes inside. I go to the drawers and grab some jeans, sweats, socks and underwear.

"Whatever," Jake replies, still by the door. "You're not taking Savannah. You're not taking my daughter."

"I'm pretty sure,," I run down the hall to her room and yell from over there, grabbing some of her things. "That we just established that she isn't yours."

When I get back into the bedroom, I find Savannah, awake and wide eyed on the bed. Jake is still on the opposite side of the room, arms crossed, not offering any comfort to a confused, terrified four year old girl.

I stuff her clothes in the suitcase and zip it up. Then I cross the bed and gently push a lock of wavy brown hair out of her face. It's not dark unlike Jake's or mine - it's so light brown, like damp sand you find at the beach. I wonder if Jake's ever questioned it. "Hi, sweetheart. Be a good girl and go into your room and put on your shoes for Mommy."

Savannah nods rapidly and slides off the bed, running out the door. I think she's just happy to be out of the situation and I can't blame her. None of this is her fault - it's never been. But she's had to suffer through endless fights between Jake and I throughout these years. I never wanted that for her. As a mother, I want to protect her from all the evil things in the world, all the things that make her little heart sad and everything that makes her frown. I couldn't do that - the bad things found a way into her life. She never deserved any of that. I hope she doesn't have to deal with it - not anymore.

I grab the suitcase and push it down. It's not a lot of things, but it will do for now. I take my bag from the nightstand and approach the door, only to be blocked by Jake's arm.

"Move!" I yell. I don't mean to shout, only because I know Savannah can hear me down the hall. But I'm at my limit right now. Jake has screwed me over all day and I am not having it. Not anymore. "I'm dead ass serious, Jake. If you don't move your arm, I will calm the police!"

"Where are you gonna go?" Jake hisses at me. "Before you leave, just tell me. Where the fuck are you gonna go? Because you don't have a helluva lot left out there for you, Liv."

I stare at him - hard. He's right - I hate him at the moment, but he is right. I'm a crazy woman - leaving with her kid in the middle of the night. I have no friends, no family. I don't have anything. "I know I don't have a lot out there for me. I know that. But anything is better than being here. With you."

He stares back at me and for a moment, I actually think he's going to hit me. In a way, I want him to. I want an excuse to go complete exorcist on him - to beat him to a pulp and then sue him for everything he owns. I have never hit Jake seriously - I just push him around sometimes when he acts like a dick in front of Savannah. I never beat him up or anything, even when we were fighting because I understand that domestic violence has double standards. But I swear to God, if Jake ever touched me or Savannah like that, I would not hesitate to hit him so hard he saw God. But he doesn't hit me. He clenches his fist, like he is trying to stop himself. He turns red, then whispers, "I gotta know, Liv. Before you leave - are we done here? Me and you? Are we done?"

I push his arm away so I can leave through the door, dragging my suitcase behind me. "I don't know, Jake. I think so. I really do."

X

"Mama?" Savannah's little voice cuts through the dark of the car. This is the first time in the twenty minutes we've been driving around the Potomac that she's spoken. She's been so strong. But now she's calling me 'mama', which she only ever does when she's about to cry and her voice sounds dangerously shaky.

I swallow, but I am not going to cry. I'm done with that - no more crying. "Yes, sweetie?"

"Why you thad, Mama?"

I smile tightly. "I'm not sad, Savannah. But it sounds like you are. It's okay to cry. It's alright."

But she doesn't. She just sniffs and tries to hold it together, which breaks my heart. She's just a brave little girl and she means the world to me.

The only reason I don't drive us to straight to a hotel is because of her. Even though I have the money (I have the money for just about any option right now) I don't think it would be safe or healthy for Savannah. I think she needs to be somewhere familiar. But mostly anywhere we go, Jake has the means to find us with his job and everything. I don't think he would try, though. He looked really detached from Savannah - he didn't even say bye to her.

"Mama," Savannah coughs. "Where we going?"

I lean over and unbuckle the booster seat that I managed to click in the driveway. I pull her into my lap and lower my speed. I know it's not safe, I know it's not legal but I don't car. She puts her hands next to mine on the steering wheel and from the glow of the dashboard, I can see the growing smile on her face.

"Mama," she repeats, just a few seconds later. "Where we going?"

I sigh. I gotta be honest with her. After four years of constant lies and unfairness, I owe it to her.

"I don't know, baby. I just don't know