Chapter Six

They'll judge it like they know about me and you

Two Months Later

Edison Davis settled onto a stool at a local bar just down from Harvard's law school buildings. From the talk around the debate circuit, he'd heard that Olivia was dating Fitzgerald Grant, III. A Grant. It boggled his mind.

Taking a sip of the scotch the bartender placed in front of him, he glanced down at his watch. The rest of the Yale debate team had scattered around, most in search of food after their ride to Boston. He'd separated, instead finding the bar that the Harvard team frequented after practice, hoping to run into Olivia. He had to see for himself if she was truly dating the silver spoon fed, rich, white boy from California.

He'd only been seated for ten minutes when the door flew open and two distinctly different female pitched giggles echoed off the old wooden walls. He knew one of those laughs very well. There was a short period of time when he'd made it happen. His head turned and his eyes locked in on Olivia, dressed in leggings, boots and an oversized Navy sweatshirt that clearly didn't belong to her. Her hair was plaited down her back, her glasses were slipping off her face as she stumbled, arm in arm with a brunette, towards the bar. Three men followed closely behind them.

Edison recognized the Grant boy the moment his eyes landed on him. He was tall with thick, slightly curly hair. He was clearly muscled and his eyes were a steely blue. He was reminiscent of Kennedy with his looks and the ever so slight limp in his gait. Edison had heard Grant had been shot down during his time as a Navy pilot.

Edison threw back the rest of his scotch and flagged the bartender down for another.

"Edison?" His head flew up at the slightly husky voice that called his name out from across the bar.

He accepted his fresh drink with a tight smile at the bartender before rising to move towards Olivia. He stood in front of her for a fully thirty seconds, just taking her in, before he replied, "Hello, Olivia."

Olivia did her best not to shift from foot-to-foot. Edison was a genuinely nice guy. They'd dated for her entire three years at Georgetown and he'd tried to talk her into Yale. He wanted to marry her. He'd even proposed. As they approached graduation, though, she got the distinct impression that he didn't want her to go to law school. He'd rather her be home, barefoot and pregnant, taking care of kids while he took care of her. He wanted to be a provider. And that was sweet, but she didn't need someone to provide for her. She could provide for herself just fine. And he didn't like the idea of her working. It was clear there were quite a few upbringing differences. She could hardly blame him, though. He was raised in a matriarchal household in Birmingham, Alabama. He was a good ole Southern Democrat, whose momma controlled everything from her kitchen. And she told him that he needed a stay-at-home wife he could provide for who would cook and clean and have babies and Olivia hadn't bought into it.

And his mother hated her for it.

Ultimately, though, she'd been the one to end it, handing back the beautiful, antique engagement ring he'd given her, apologizing profusely, and then packing up her things and moving back in with her parents until graduation, when she promptly hauled herself to Boston to start a part-time job in a small law firm before school started. She thought her parents had been relieved she hadn't married him. They were apathetic at best to him, mostly keeping their thoughts to themselves. Olivia now knew that if her parents were opinoinless, that meant they weren't happy about the situation. But they respected her as an adult and allowed her to make her own decisions, which she appreciated. Although, the older she got, the more she sought out their advice and opinion. They were wise beyond their years and always had her best interest at heart. Olivia found she would be a fool not to consider what they had to say.

She cleared her throat, "You look well, Edison. You're on the Yale debate team?"

Edison nodded absently, "Yes, we just got into town a couple of hours ago. I take it you're on the Harvard team." She knew he knew she was. Just as she knew he was on the Yale debate team. She knew he dominated the Yale debate team. He was going to be a phenomenal politician one day. He could change the course of an argument seamlessly, he could control what others said effortlessly, baiting them into a trap or changing their argument entirely without them noticing. It was something she'd admired, it was something she'd been drawn to as a young seventeen-year-old freshman. She'd learned a lot from him. Enough to become better than him.

She hummed a response at his statement before moving to the side, taking in his dark jeans and ill-fitted sweater, "Edison, these are my friends, Quinn Perkins, Harrison Wright and Stephen Finch. And this is my boyfriend, Fitz Grant."

Edison plastered a grin on his face, reaching out to shake hands, "Hi, nice to meet y'all. Edison Davis."

"I know exactly who you are." Quinn rocked up on her toes, "You're a legend at Yale already. Wow, so you know Liv? How do you know Liv? Oh, wait, you two were at Georgetown together and"

"Dear God, Quinn, please breathe and stop with the monologues already." Harrison grumbled. He faced Edison again, "It's nice to meet you, Edison." He pointed behind them, "I'm going to get a table and some food. Come on, Quinn, you can fangirl at Edison later. Let's let him and Liv catch up." He latched onto the girl's wrist and hauled her away, ignoring her protests. Stephen followed wordlessly behind them.

Pressing a kiss to Olivia's forehead, Fitz murmured, "Fries?"

Olivia nodded, "Lots of ranch." She called out as he left her alone with Edison. This was one of the many times she was appreciative that Fitz was older than her. At thirty-one, he was even more mature than most, and he trusted her implicitly. The fact that he trusted her so completely surprised her with how many times he'd been hurt. Maybe he just knew that she would never intentionally hurt him. When he'd walked away, she asked, "How have you been, Edison?"

He rocked on his heels, "Good, you?"

Olivia smiled softly, her gaze inadvertently flitting to Fitz, "Good, really good."

Edison followed her line of vision, "Really, Olivia?" He asked with a tired sigh, "A Grant?"

Her eyes snapped back to Edison, "Excuse me?" She asked sharply.

Edison held her gaze, unwilling to show any sign of weakness, "You're dating a Grant? You? Olivia, you can't be so naive to think that he's not just using for the physical benefits. The minute he meets a rich, white debutante, he'll leave you. Or maybe he'll keep you on the side, in the shadows, as a mistress. No Grant man is going to marry a middle class, black girl. You're smarter than that. You have to know that this is very Thomas Jefferson-Sally Hemings. If anything, he's just going to somehow use you to advance his political career, which, as a Grant means it will be a backwater, dirty kind of politics that borders on illegal. Is that the kind of reputation you want?"

Olivia's jaw ticked and she stepped forward, right into his personal space. She clenched her fists at her side to keep from punching him before she started in a low voice, "Five -" she began slowly, "that's sexist and insulting. Four -" she paused, holding up her hand when it was clear he was going to speak, "we broke up nearly a year ago, now, so it is none of your damn business who I am or am not screwing. Three - that's racist to assume that I need to be with a black man and he needs to be with a white woman. I thought you were a Democrat and were able to see beyond a person's race. Two -" she shook her head, "no, I'm not done speaking. Two - how dare you make that comparison. It is below the belt to equate me to a mistress. One - In the past five minutes you have called me an idiot, a whore and a potential criminal. So, this is pretty much the last time we will be speaking." She stepped back, "See you at the debate."

Edison stood stock still, slightly stunned by her outburst and the way she simply picked up her drink, stalked towards the booth her friends were at and sat down as if she didn't have a care in the world. Before he could pay for his drinks and get the hell out of the bar, he felt the overwhelming presence of Fitzgerald Grant behind him, "She doesn't need me to protect her," he began, "or defend her, but you should know that I will. And I'm supposed to be a Republican, so I guess that means I could threaten you with a gun or something." He paused and nodded to the bartender, indicating he'd like another drink, "I was in the Navy, though, so I could take your soft ass out if I needed to." He paused, "Olivia is strong and independent, she doesn't need you telling her how she should carry herself and she doesn't need me defending her honor, but I love her. And I will defend her, particularly when people like you take a swipe at her. Or take a swipe at us. Stay away from her." He warned, picking up his drink. He'd taken two steps before he paused and turned, "Oh, and good luck at the debate. After that you're going to need it."

Swallowing his pride, Edison downed the rest of his scotch, tossed some cash on the table and left the bar without another word.

Olivia watched as the door slammed shut before she faced Fitz, "You didn't have to do that, but I love you and thank you."

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, Fitz pressed a kiss to her temple, "Always, Livie." He would always have her back, just like she had his.

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