Once downstairs, she began to repack her things, starting to feel as upset by leaving her home of four days as she had been about her home of three years. What really got to her was that Elliot hadn't said anything. True, he wasn't usually one to get sentimental, but he loved her, right? And he had never once acknowledged that she was moving out. She felt taken for granted a bit. She stooped down to pick up a garment lodged in the couch. The black dress that she had worn the night she was supposed to make dinner. She squeezed her eyes shut against the memories.
Elliot woke up and reached for her, but she wasn't there. He went downstairs and found her hunched over some boxes.
"Good morning," he said, then mentally cringed at his inept timing when she turned, sniffling and wiping her red eyes. "Are you okay?" She shook her head, more tears flowing at his concern for her. "Come on, I'll make you some breakfast." Olivia allowed herself to be hugged before being led to the kitchen.
"Elliot, I can't eat anything. My stomach's in knots," she said.
"Me too," he confessed, "but can I talk you into coffee?"
"I never refuse coffee."
Olivia sat as Elliot poured her a cup and handed it to her. He looked across the table at her, sipping her coffee. For all her outer vulnerability, he could still feel her underlying strength. She'd get through this, even if it broke her heart. Suddenly, Elliot became overwhelmed by a feeling he couldn't name, a feeling that had been building up for days. It was a mixture of guilt and longing, an expanding ever-protective, multi-branched force that was too big to cram into the category of love. He then realized that he wouldn't let her heart be broken, he didn't want her to get hurt. She stared out of the window into the backyard, where small snowflakes were beginning to fall.
"Stay with me." His voice seemed to ring out in the quiet insulation of the snow. Olivia turned and looked into his face with a mixture of hope, fear, and barely-concealed joy.
"What?" She whispered.
"I'm asking you if. . .would you like to. . .move in with me, Liv."
***********
Olivia rode in the front of the moving van, sandwiched in between Munch and Fin.
"Not the best day for moving," Fin said, gesturing to the snow.
"I think it's beautiful," Olivia said, then continued, "I bet you're glad I took a lot of my stuff to the Salvation Army, though."
"So, where to?" Munch asked. Olivia had been giving him directions.
"Left here," she said. Munch raised his eyebrows.
"You sure?" She nodded firmly.
"So is the new place bigger?" Fin asked.
"Uh-huh. Turn right at the next light." Munch caught on.
"We're not going to a new apartment," he observed. Olivia shook her head, a grin widening on her face.
"I'm moving in with Elliot," she stated, voice full of suppressed excitement.
"Hey, congratulations," Munch said.
"Yeah," Fin said, "You're gonna be really happy together." She hugged them both as they parked in front of his house. Their house. Elliot came outside, ready to help with the moving. Munch and Fin shook hands with him. He didn't need their permission, but Olivia had always been closer with them than he had been, and he somehow felt glad that they approved.
**********
That night, after the unpacking of boxes was done and Munch and Fin had left, Olivia stood, looking out her new bedroom window. Half-unpacked boxes were still strewn everywhere, but they had decided to stop for the night. The snow was still falling, and she watched the way it was lit up by the street light, like falling stars. Elliot's arms slipped around her waist and she smiled, covering his hands with hers.
"Whatcha doing?" He asked softly.
"I'm learning the view."
"Well, there'll be plenty of time for the window tomorrow. I've just spoken with the bed and it is demanding our immediate attention. She turned.
"Well, we certainly better not keep it waiting."
