It's no secret who Fitzgerald Grant, the author, is. Especially not after the disaster with his publishing house. Given this scandal didn't popularize him - the novels he's written speak to his talent and fame. Not a single person missed the noise made by Jeff Leo's lawyers. The media is starved for more. And whereas the publishing house wants to distance themselves as far away as possible from Jeff's corruptions. The mistakes of another poisoned the agency the minute it became public information. Most journals and writers' blogs aren't using Jeff's name but using his title. The headlines hold more weight the closer he is to a million-dollar publishing house. Never allowing the calm. Read into the future refused to go down six lawyers and counting are handing out cease and desist letters left and right to any journalist brave enough to mention the company in any relation to Jeff. Maintaining the man worked alone, and alone he will go down.

The mess that is didn't stop Read into the future from reaching out to Fitz and practically begging Fitz to take them back. Not only would they preserve a writer who's been featured on the top ten best sellers list, three times in the last two years. But could also maintain their innocence in this whole debacle. The bright mind who thought of that tragic stunt obviously doesn't know Fitz. Why would he stay if he felt they had a hand in Jeff's schemes?

The moment agents started calling begging for one meeting, just one meeting. Fitz called bullshit. There was no way in hell he would sit down and work anything out. As he had no words for his ex-agent, he had no words for them. He had no desire to foolishly work with them, fearing when the next shady agent would show his true colors.

Scary. Scary as in crazy how fast and aggressive people will leech off of a story. Someone's life, by the way. And twist it into something fucked up. Reporters were terrible, but the so-called conspiracy theorists were even worse. Fitz can't complain about the free advertisement of his books, and he was selling off the shelves at an ungodly rate. Still, it's becoming a little overwhelming; he's not being stalked and followed by the press. But it's annoying seeing your name in the blogs and having assholes write think pieces on a person without having ever met them.

Twenty chapters and two months later, Fitz is well over the mark to begin the process of publishing his third novel. A fantasy novel. If he was going to publish his third novel, he would have to find another publishing house. Not that there was a shortage of offers. From the moment it became public knowledge, he cut ties with Reads into the future agents lining up at the door. An overwhelming amount of offers and promises. It will take a lot of thinking before he makes a massive decision like this one. For now, he's content to just keep working on the project.

Tap...tap..tap. The curtains were drawn, blocking out the light. He needed complete silence, just the tapping of his typing. Evidence of the progress he was making. The darkness of the room provided a level of comfort, like a long night's rest after being up for three days straight. Writing is his art, his passion, and these things take perfection. The hour is unknown because he hasn't left the room since he entered this morning. Occasionally stretching, but he hasn't left the desk other than that. He knew what day it was, but that's only because Olivia would be coming back in three days.

His middle finger smashed down on the period key. He was done for the day. It was in his bones. He stretched his arms above his head, cracked his knuckles, flexed his wrist, and rolled his neck until it let out a satisfactory crunch. The little hand sits on the eleven, and his stomach roars.

For the first time in hours, he powers his phone on. Two miss calls and one picture of Olivia and Sydney in bed. Fitz smiles and snorts to himself. It's only been a couple of days since Fitz saw them and Sydney looks bigger. His face nuzzled against Olivia's breast as he slept, holding a handful of her shirt. Below is the attachment. Hope you had a good day; we miss you. G'night, love you.

Fitz writes back Sorry I've been M.I.A, writing's been good haven't been able to stop. I love you, pretty girl.

Are we still on for this weekend?

A few minutes passed, Fitz got up and began his nightly routine. Food was first on his imaginary to-do list. He ate a turkey sandwich perched on the stool. Mentally making notes of ideas, he came up within that short stint. Things he would be adding and subtracting from the book. Later he'll scribble them on his tablet.

After the late dinner, he tidied up the kitchen and living room. Folding burping cloths and bundling Sydney's loose socks (he didn't like socks preventing him from sucking on his toes.), a smile spread across his face thinking of the infant's antics. Also, recognizes how much he misses them. Yes, the quiet allowed him to get a substantial amount of work done (minus his own procrastination.) But he now misses the warmth of their home when Olivia and his son are in it.

There's a purple, blue and yellow teething ring on the floor, and he picks it up and drops the items off in the guest bedroom. In the best ways, he misses Sydney's fussing and new discoveries. Albeit, the baby isn't the only one making discoveries. Fitz made his own. Olivia, sweat-drenched, panting and trying to tip-toe into the master bathroom at odd morning hours.

Fitz shifts, pretending to be freshly awoken. "Mhmm, Livvie, what are you doing up?"

"Shh, I had to pee" she stretches her neck over, checking on the baby while crawling back into bed.

He didn't exactly know what to make of her lie. Nonetheless, he threw his arms around her and held her close. She went back to sleep. And he stared at the wall until the sun rose.

That was two weeks. He still hasn't mentioned it.

At two in the morning, he finally made it to bed. But he was wired, checking his emails. No surprise there was an influx of publishing houses near and far requesting meetings. Hoping to get Fitz on board. He opened and read the first few, but there were more as he scrolled. He wouldn't make a decision tonight. But it was nice knowing his work was heavily desired.

Fitz smothered another yawn before plugging the laptop up and sitting it on the dresser. He scooted over to Olivia's side and laid his head on her pillow, inhaling the deep coconut and strawberry scent.

"Goodnight, Livvie"


His eyes sting from sleep and the morning sun beaming down through the curtains. As his eyes adjust to the brightness, he fondles the dresser for his phone.

Yes. We can't wait to see you. Call when you get a chance.

You're very sexy when you're writing. (Winking face)

Fitz wrote back that he loved and missed her too. And told her to have a wonderful day. He glanced at the laptop before grabbing and opening it.

This book would not go to waste because he had reservations when it came to trusting publishing houses. But who could blame him? However, twenty-three chapters in the works; it's time for edits and book cover ideas. In order to get there, he needs representation. This time around, he would be more cautious with who he trusts with his art and money. Fitz responds via email to two publishers, followed by an amateur google search of the houses and their top agents.

No scandals (not public, that is)

Only two authors have left in the past ten years

Fitz closed the laptop, feeling relieved about what he found or lacked there. His defenses, however, are still up. Next, he compiled a pros and cons list for each house. After thirty-odd minutes of jotting down facts and comparisons for both, he checked his email. Both had gotten back to him within the hour. Either desperate to catch a big fish and have their company gain more media attention, or they were genuinely interested in his talent. (Which would be shocking)

He took them both up on coffee at cafe le blue in Santa Monica. Today's meeting will be with Tessa Clark of Tiger Books, and tomorrow, he'll meet with Marcus Walker of Finch's story house.

Fitz is brushing his teeth, and a call comes in. Just the number flashing across the screen, but he knows exactly who's on the other line: his mother. Fitz ignores the buzzing device. Continuing to get presentable for this afternoon. He didn't have time for his mother's drama (literally), Although she could have been calling about wedding updates.

So he shot a quick text to his brother, begging in so few words for Andrew to stop forcing a relationship between him and their mother. And, of course, he feigned ignorance. Fitzy, lighten up. Mom asked for your number. She's helping out with the buffet, Andrew responded.

XXXXX

About thirty or thirty-five, a fresh-faced brunette woman held out her hand and smiled. She had a Winona Ryder smile that didn't really fit her. Nonetheless, Fitz shook her hand and returned her polite simper.

"I'm Tessa."

"Fitz. Nice to meet you." he gestured for her to sit, then he took a seat.

"Lemme just starts by saying this is an honor, and my boss is ecstatic you decided to take this meeting." Tessa prattles. "He extends his condolences and best wishes to your potential future with our house."

"Not to be forward, but I understand there isn't one house in this city who doesn't know of my misfortune...with that out there, I want to make something clear. I'm not scrapping around for publishing houses to take pity on me and welcome me."

"That's-"

"I know; Tiger books have been in my inbox for some odd years now, and I just wanted that out in the open. Before we continue, this is just one meeting. So for both our sakes, I'm Fitzgerald Grant, twice published and three times featured on the bestseller list."

"Tessa Clark, with Tiger books."

He wasn't being haughty and arrogant; he was honest and authentic. Telling her upfront who he is and what he's about. Fitz refused to make the same mistakes, being blind, only smelling the money and success long enough for Jeff to snatch away the pretty thoughts of lifelong friendship and trust. He was doing it right this time.

The meeting ended, and they shook hands and bid one another goodbye. Fitz wasn't as impressed as he'd hoped to be after meeting with a top agent at one of the leading publishing houses in Los Angeles. However, he didn't panic; tomorrow could go off without a hitch. And he could have a new home for his books.

His phone buzzed five times consecutively. Olivia: Two months, and I'm ready to kill every man who thinks he has the right to put his hands on a woman.

This is so frustrating, Fitz. It's just plain wrong-

We only have so many resources to actually help and make some kind of difference.

Sorry, I know you're working. Don't pay me any mind. I'm just venting.

Thanks (Heart emoji)

He started to write a response but decided against it. She was so passionate about her work, and there were tons of one-sided messages of just her venting about her day. And at the end of the night, he held her. He sensed it was something that would eat at her throughout the day. Sometimes people don't need solutions and answers to every question or problem- just an ear to listen to know that they're being heard. And when it's time, the answer will find them.


Andrew's text was vague-not that his big brother ever has anything good to talk about. Fitz reluctantly joined him out for a drink. Andrew claimed to be in desperate need of male company. Which Fitz assumed was code for "my soon to be wife is driving me crazy." So the least he could do for his dear brother was provide him with booze and male company in a small, sweaty, and stinky bar.

It's two glasses of whiskey and three beers later, and Fitz is resisting the urge to both punch his brother or get him a therapist. The way Andrew talks about his family. He's extremely miserable. And all Fitz can think about is how miserable Andrew's fiancé is. He hasn't shut up about the impending doom that is married, the struggle of raising two kids. Fitz is just finding it hard to feel bad for him, considering he helped make the mess that is his life.

After another round of beer and whiskey, the conversation steered toward Fitz and his fresh romance. Andy rambled on and on about how lucky his little brother is to have Liv and how he envies him. He paused and let out a rank burp, laughed, then started on again.

"Bro, you'll never get how sweet your setup is." Fitz frowned, and Andrew took that as his cue to clarify.

"Kids! I'm talking about kids. You are a free man; if you wanted to up and leave, you could. No child support, no one nagging you about goddamn diapers-"

"Andy, you're drunk."

"No, I'm not. Lemme explain I just mean, you don't have kids with Liv. If you guys broke up tomorrow, there would be nothing tying you together. You wouldn't have to see her ever again… y'all would just be done. I'm jealous," he finished by taking a sloppy swig of whiskey.

"So why the hell are you getting married? Because all I've heard you do tonight is complain and talk about how much of a pain your kids are." Fitz bellowed

"Now, don't climb on my back. Lisa is a fucking head case. I messed up. But you have a chance, you can have your own life without Liv, and the baby is the reason you don't smile at home."

"Liv and Sydney are the reason I smile." Fitz declared

"But you're not his daddy. The weight of fatherhood doesn't fall on you. You're not the poor bastard stuck and miserable…I am" Andrew knocked back the little brown liquor that remained.

"I'm gonna leave before we both say some shit that we can't come back from" Fitz stood, snatching his coat off the back of the chair. "Congrats on your marriage."

Andrew grumbled something under his breath, but Fitz was long gone. His brother had big problems, ones that wouldn't be found at the bottom of a whiskey bottle. It was up to Andrew whether he knew that or not. And if he's going to correct it.

A petite girl walked past his table, heading for the bar. Andrew couldn't help but stare at her ass. She couldn't have been older than 25, and she had the biggest fakest breast anyone ever saw. He dropped his eyes as she left the bar, hoping she didn't catch him gawking at her. She had a ditsy smile. But she stopped at his table and sat down in front of him. Those big fake breasts were all in his face, now.

"You look like you need someone to talk to," she said, giggling like it was a personality trait


Fitz and Marcus Walker of Finch's Story house meet for coffee this morning. But neither of them is hiding their goals. Mr. Walker wants to catch a big fish and dangle him in front of the big bosses and say, "look what I did," For two uninterrupted hours, he's sold the dream to the client. Fitz is eating everything he's putting down, but his guard is still up. Anyone can sell a car, and not everyone can make a car. By the end of their meeting, Fitz is impressed, more impressed than he expected to be. Mr. Walker happens to be a vet when it comes to landing the big clients. There isn't one author in LA that hasn't worked with Finch's Story house.

Fitz would have been one of those lucky bastards five years ago if he hadn't been so loyal to Jeff. He won't make that mistake again.

Fitz and Mr. Walker have pulled away from their conversation by Marcus's phone ringing off the line.

"Excuse me" He got up and took the call away from the table. "I gotta run. My office will be in contact, and I expect you to be receptive."

"I'll look forward to working with story house." They shook hands and parted.


Saturday afternoon and the California sun has already made its appearance but would eventually be down. With a smile on her face and her shoulders light, Olivia carried baby Sydney to her silver Mercedes and strapped him in safely. With the weeks she's had, she more than looks forward to spending time with Fitz, the best remedy for wanting to forget the tragedies of the world. Sydney widened his lips, showing his gums. He was happy to see Fitz too. Olivia reached into her back and pulled out his pacifier. "We're off to see daddy-" she caught herself with a huge smile but scolded herself for slipping. The quickness of the statement fell out of her mouth; she couldn't even deny it to herself that she wanted that. And whereas she could live in the joy of being with Fitz. Cautious was her word of the time being. She could survive the heartbreak of not being with Fitz; her little baby could not. That wasn't something she was willing to bet.

Olivia arrived in record time; as she walked up the steps, the corners of her mouth curled, she could no longer control the simper on her face. Fitz opened the door as if he'd been waiting since last night to welcome her. He engulfed her in a brilliant hug, letting her scent fill her nose until he needed new breath. The stress of their week melted off their shoulders, and they both sighed contentedly.

"Don't ever be away from this long. I almost didn't survive without you," Fitz said

"I know the feeling, and with you not answering calls, I've been starved," Olivia said on a laugh as she transferred the sleeping baby to Fitz's arms. "I have to grab something from the car."

"Alright, I'll get him situated."

Fitz untucked the infant from his blanket, freeing his little arms. Sydney stretched and opened his eyes briefly before nuzzling his crown against his daddy's chest. A smile captured Fitz's mouth; he set the baby down and met Olivia in the foyer. He helped her by taking the bag.

"What's all this?" The duffle was substantial in size and weight.

"I've decided to take you up on your offer of leaving a few of my things here. In case we spend the night here during the week, or if there's an emergency. The offer still stands, right?"

"Of course," Fitz hurriedly said. Olivia smirked, nodding her head softly.

A beaming smile spread across Olivia's face. She nodded and took her and the baby's things to the master bedroom though she didn't unpack. This week alone was exhausting, right now, all she wants is to relax and enjoy the weekend with her lover. When Olivia came back into the living room, Fitz had already selected her favorite movie B.A.P.S and had popcorn exploding in the microwave. He wore a charming smirk as he lifted the quilted throw blanket for her to climb underneath. Olivia happily obliged, linking her arm with his.

For dinner, the couple ordered out, adding to their evening of relaxation and comfort. And just by a hair, they made it through their meal. As Olivia was forking the last bite of lo mein when the baby monitor came to life with Sydney's soft coos. Fitz stayed behind tidying up the remnants of their in-home movie night date.

"!" Olivia rolled her eyes and fell back against the headboard. "How long have you been standing there?" she asked.

"A minute or two," Fitz admitted. He'd definitely been there a while. Comfortable leaning against the oak frame, one leg crossed over the other as he gazed upon them. Olivia humming a soft tune and Sydney fighting his sleep so he'd have more time with mommy. It was heartwarming, and Fitz couldn't look away. If he'd had a camera, he would have snapped a picture and carried it with him until his last days.

"He's already asleep again?"

"Yeah, he just needed a snack and some snuggles from his mommy."

"I can see that much," Fitz said, kneeling on the bed. "Can I?"

"Of course." She handed him the bed and scooted to the edge. For the last hour, she's been staring at the still packed duffle. "I'm gonna do this before I forget."

He's waited to climb this step in their relationship. Olivia owning a side of his closet or occupying drawers is the reassurance he so desperately needed. To know that Olivia is scared but trusts that he would never do anything to compromise their relationship is a huge relief. As he cuddles their child, watching Olivia take up those spaces he made for her is important to him.

A comforting silence fell the room, and Olivia sat on her haunches, neatly folding clothes and depositing them into drawers. Every so often, Fitz and Olivia share a gaze.

"How's the clinic?"

"I thought the bedroom is a 'no work zone,'" Olivia says

"It is. But I'm not asking how you solve world crisis'. I'm only asking how everything is."

Olivia rolled her eyes; not looking up, she continued folding a pair of jeans. "It's fine. Sometimes challenging."

"You can handle it, you are one of the strongest and empathic people I know, so those women are in good hands!"

"They're in hands; I don't know if they're good." Olivia shoved the jeans in the drawer with an unnecessary amount of force and then bounced to her feet without a word.

Fitz stared in confusion as she rushed into the bathroom. He replayed their conversation over in his head, trying to unriddle what he might've said that upset her. Moments later, Olivia resumed her spot on the floor and began folding clothes again as if nothing was the matter. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and her eyes were puffy.

"Livvie, what's wrong?

The shine of tears danced in her eyes as she tried to gather her words without turning into a blubbering mess of emotions.

"I'm fine. I'm just really overwhelmed at the clinic. I had a client last month, and she turned around and went back to her ex. I can't blame her or fault her because I understand what it's like to be there. To feel that urge to go back to believe that our situation will change…I am um… I wanted better for her. Instead, I failed her." Olivia swiped her tears away and picked up a blouse.

"Most of my week is enduring woman after woman begging us to help, but just like with Tonya, we only have a certain amount of resources, and they don't have time. These women are running from men who have no fears, not of the law or anything else. Shit, half of the domestic violence victims are wives of cops. So they are cornered- no family, no outside resources, going back into an abusive environment hoping for the best outcome." Olivia took a breath and put down the shirt she was clutching. "I'm scared all of the time for myself, for these women."

Fitz kneeled down on one knee and took her hands into his. He kissed the inside of her palms then pulled her up and into his lap.

"I'm sorry you're stressed. I have thought about how this line of work could affect you…almost triggering. Do you ever think about changing paths?"

"It's insane how much I think about quitting, but I want to help them, and I want to be their champion." Her head rested against his chest, listening to the thumping of his heart.

"Well, I meant what I said, livvie. I still think you're brave, and I trust that you can handle it, and when it gets hard, it's okay to remove yourself and take a breather. No one is going to judge you for having a heart."

"Thank you"

"For what?"

"Loving him and me. Accepting my baggage and still weathering the storm. I'm just grateful that I have a loving and kind man who loves me with all my faults. I wish there were a million guys like you; I'd give them away like Christmas gifts." Olivia felt the rumble in his chest from chuckling.

"Livvie, you don't have to thank me for being where I want to be. I can't pretend I understand your client or even what was going through her head, but I know that if you had this strong of a reaction about her absence, I could tell she's strong- a fighter just like you. But it makes me angry and sad that she went back there. Livvie, you shouldn't blame yourself because of that, though. I know you'll keep making a difference even if you don't help them all. You will change many lives. Trust me, I should know."

Tightening her arms around him, she whispered, " I love you," Olivia whispered.

XXXX

Olivia groped around the bedside table in search of her cell phone. It hadn't stopped ringing all morning, and she feared it might wake Fitz or, worse, the baby. Without opening her eyes, she pulled the device to her ear. A crusty hello to whoever was on the other end. Fitz caught a glimpse of Olivia's expression as he woke.

"Who's on the phone?" Fitz rasped.

Sound drained from the room, and Olivia could hardly hear her own thoughts correctly. A pit opened in her stomach and swallowed her whole. She managed to choke out two words "She's dead?"


Author note

I'M BACKKKK!

I've missed all of you, and I wholeheartedly appreciate the patience and love from yall. Now that the semester has ended I'll have plenty of time to write and edit. PLEASE leave a review, I just want to be assured that I haven't lost my readers.

Happy Holidays to all who celebrate and to those who don't.

Q: Who's on phone? And who do yall think died?

Love and light - Skye-Anne