True to her word, Liv found about five business proposals that piqued her interest. After having made a name for themselves in the creative consulting world, it was their privilege to be choosy when taking on new projects. She was breaking one of their primordial rules—aiming to choose a project that felt personal to them at this point in time. They'd been awaiting the arrival of Harrison and Mike's baby girl, and they'd chosen to work on a rather large campaign for Girls International, an organization focusing on empowering girls and women around the world. It was a rather challenging task abiding by many international rules to market the Non-Profit Organization, but the reward in doing good was worth the challenge ahead.
On the other side of town Fitz had opted to stay in, something rather odd for a Friday night in Boston when the Sox were playing. He hadn't worked up the courage to write to Olivia yet. In his mind, he had thought of this apology a thousand times. He chose to uncork a bottle of wine, hoping to find the inspiration and courage he suddenly found himself devoid of. As he downed his bottle of Syrah; her favorite wine, he yearned to taste it off her lips again. Before going down memory lane he decided that the best way to craft his apology was just to start—he could then revise it another thousand times before sending it.
He knew he needed to accept responsibility. He had accepted responsibility. What he truly needed was to come to terms that she either may never read nor accept his apology. Once all was said and done his load of guilt would be lightened; the apologetic kindness he was extending to Olivia would hopefully bring him some relief that therapy had failed to bring him. Deciding there was no time like the present Fitz poured the rest of the wine and opened Instagram on his phone, slowly and dreadfully typing out Olivia's username.
"I've dreamt… I've daydreamed of writing this letter a thousand times. And then rewriting it. I don't truthfully know where to start, but I guess the simplest thing I can say to you is this: I am deeply sorry. Every single emotion I've tried to suppress these past few years came bubbling to the surface and I desperately sought this way to reach out to you. By some gracious act of the universe—kismet, really—we were at the same restaurant the other night. I know you didn't notice me or else I'm sure you would've left. I feel foolish reaching out to you in this manner, but it seems to be the only avenue that will bring me any solace. I've looked for you in every face that's crossed my path these past two years. I've channeled you in every apology I've conceived since you've been gone. Now that I've found a way to reach out to you, in the most unorthodox manner, I find myself at a loss for words. Funny how that works. I go to therapy now, have been for a while, but I've mostly kept you to myself. After the loss I've endured, after both Jerry and the loss of you, well I try to keep the happy tidbits of my life to myself. This protects me from letting others project onto my life and steal the very few tidbits left of happiness in my memory. I know this will probably come as a surprise to you, but I don't mean to assault your emotions. I hope that wherever you are at this point in your life that you are happy and that you find it in your kind heart, the one you shared with me so long ago, to forgive me. I hope to hear from you. Even if you are still angry I know that your anger would feel more soothing to me than your silence these past few years. Love Always, Fitz."
Fitz couldn't bring himself to send the apology just yet. He decided he would at the very least sleep on it and read it in the morning. He felt so much pressure to get her to understand how truly sorry he was for the whole thing. More than her forgiveness he wanted her compassion. He had botched the opportunity to have a support system with her in his life, and now that he'd seen her again it was as if no one else would do. Cyrus, his therapist, had been of great help to him, but he couldn't compete with the woman who'd stolen his heart. He was free now, Mellie having gone her own way after the death of their son. He'd already lost so much, and each passing day made him feel more and more that it was all for naught.
Quickly rinsing his wine glass and putting it away, Fitz decided to call it a night. He set his alarm, put his phone to charge and drifted off to sleep.
Olivia and Harrison were busy in their makeshift office—the spare room in Olivia's two-floor apartment. Olivia volunteered this room in her apartment under the pretense of "efficiency." She told Harrison that keeping their previous large office was a waste of money considering how often they would not be there with all their cross-country travel. The reality was that Olivia decided right then and there that she needed to make sure she could avoid Fitz at all costs. She knew he would look for her once he got his bearings, and it was something she wanted to avoid in front of Harrison. The thought of Fitz showing up to their workspace back in the day used to make her hyperventilate.
They were in the middle of dissecting the budgeting for their new campaign when Olivia's phone buzzed. She had been consciously trying to use her phone less and less; Harrison claimed she was addicted to information and couldn't ignore when her phone buzzed for whatever reason. He often joked that she was addicted to breaking news.
As Harrison got up to use the restroom, Liv picked up her phone to check her messages. On the other side of town Fitz was in his office, having just sent Olivia the apology. He spoke his good intentions out loud as he pressed send and hoped for the best. He took a deep breath and tried to push what he had just done to the back of his head, he had a busy day ahead and for that he was grateful.
Olivia on the other hand was about to receive the shock of a lifetime. Ever since she had seen Fitz at the restaurant she had resorted to her favorite and most trusted coping mechanism—she wore herself down past exhaustion every single day. There would be no time to daydream about Fitz if she was occupied, and when she wasn't occupied at the end of the day she was too tired to think about anything anymore. Until now…
There it was, on her home screen, everything that she had tried to avoid for the past two years, staring right back at her. " sent you a message"
She unlocked her phone and headed straight to Instagram to make sure she wasn't hallucinating. Once she opened the app she knew for sure she wasn't hallucinating.
"Do you want to let send you messages from now on? They'll only know you've seen their request if you choose Allow."
What the hell was she supposed to do now? How could she even focus the rest of the day with this bomb that had just landed on her lap? She took a deep breath and couldn't resist the masochistic urge to read his message. She read it, and then re-read it, and couldn't help the tears that streamed down her face. She was so lost in the emotion of what he had written that she had completely forgotten about Harrison, but as luck would have it he was just rounding the corner.
"Liv? What's going on? What happened?" Harrison asked her.
The dam broke; Olivia couldn't keep running away from it anymore. She had been caught red-handed and found no time better than the present to come clean to Harrison. She handed him her phone so he could read the message even though it would likely confuse him more than before, but it would give her some time to formulate some thoughts on what the hell she was going to tell him.
"What is this about?" Harrison asked again with more urgency in his voice.
"The other night, when we had dinner, there was a man that I dated a few years ago. Not dated—is it still considered dating if he was married?" she rambled.
"Speak faster, Olivia," he demanded.
"We had an affair and it ended horribly, and then I saw him the other night, and now he's here telling me he's sorry. I have been actively and successfully ignoring him for the last two years—it's why we moved our office here. I just can't believe this… I have tried so hard to get over this and it just blow up in my face like this," Liv said tearfully with a tremor in her voice.
"So what you mean to tell me is that for the past two years you have been dealing with this but actively chose not to tell me anything?" he said as calmly as he could muster.
"It's not about that Harry… has nothing to do with you. It's not about choosing. I deal with it, I've been dealing with it," Liv replied.
"On your own, just like you do everything. You never let anyone in on anything. I'm your friend. I know that alone is what feels normal, what feels natural to you in life but you know that you have me. The fact that you don't trust me for something that deeply pains you but you trust me for business is just…"
Harrison couldn't even finish his sentence; he was appalled but didn't know how to handle his emotions. He was torn between being selfishly upset and simultaneously concerned for her well-being which had obviously been through the wringer. Suddenly he understood why she had been going non-stop for the last two years. Liv was quietly trying to regain her composure, occasionally wiping away at her tears. She'd long closed her phone, but she had no idea what to make of the apology.
"You said it ended horribly? And that's obviously a detailed and emotional apology—what happened? How long did it even go on?" Harrison asked snapping her from her thoughts.
"Two years. He's Andrew's friend. He was miserable in his marriage when we met—I tried to fight our attraction but obviously, I failed miserably. Anyway, he had a son, he died at summer camp. A sort of freak accident, he contracted meningitis of all things—and Fitz, that's his name, well he took it as some sort of karmic event because he had stepped out on his wife. A wife that was emotionally abusive, mind you… but he spoke to me like somehow getting involved with me was the cause of his child dying. That was our last conversation, and I hadn't seen him since. I was hoping he hadn't noticed me at the restaurant but that's obviously not the case," Liv said.
A moment passed as they basked in the quietness of her admission. Olivia felt like her world was crashing down, she was sorry she hadn't told Harrison anything, and upset that he had to find out like this. She was also mad that Fitz couldn't resist the urge to contact her; if he didn't do it in person the other night then why now, she thought.
She broke the silence when she said "I'm sorry Harry. It wasn't personal. I'd just kept him to myself for so long that I didn't even see the point of telling you. I trust you, you know that. I trust you with my life. I love you."
"Love you more," he said without hesitation.
So, what are you going to do?" he asked.
"I don't know. I don't know what to answer him. I don't have an answer for him. I don't want to be kind and I don't want to be cruel; I just don't know how to straddle the line. What am I supposed to say? "Oh Fitz, I'm so glad you noticed it wasn't my fault? I'm happy you got a divorce too!" I just don't know," Liv answered.
Sitting there with her head in her hands, Liv just groaned and directed her attention back to her pile of paperwork. Harrison took the hint and continued to work alongside her. Their conversation was over just as fast as it'd begun.
Once Harrison went home Olivia decided to press allow—she kept telling herself she pressed 'allow' so she could read over the apology whenever she felt like she needed it. She didn't give it much thought that it would open the door for Fitz to keep messaging her. For the time being she had chosen to let the message linger, leaving Fitz on read.
Fitz had been as swamped as he expected throughout the day at work, which had been a blessing. Once he was on his way home he checked his phone but didn't see any reply from her. Choosing not to let anxiety get the best of him he decided to give John a call to let him know he had done it. He had gone out on a limb and done what he had been desperate to do, and to let him know that going through with it was enough for him, whether she answered or not. He wasn't sure if he believed that or if he was actively trying to convince himself.
A few days passed and he had begun to feel sadness taking over. He couldn't help but ultimately be disappointed that she hadn't responded. She was the kindest person he had ever known, and it felt unlike her to ignore him, but maybe in their time away from one another she had changed. He wondered if he had been at all responsible for that? Had he accidentally jaded her? He opened his Instagram app only to realize that below his message it said "Seen." Suddenly he didn't have to wonder anymore, the proof that she had at the very least seen his message was staring right back at him.
Deciding it couldn't hurt he typed out "Livvie?" and pressed send. Maybe a second message would do the trick, in the meantime he felt comfort in the fact that she had seen it.
Never in a million years did Fitz think that he would become addicted to a form of social media, but that's what it was starting to feel like as he would compulsively check time and time again.
Seeing that she was reading his messages he decided to write to her whenever he felt like it, even if it was the equivalent of talking to a wall.
"I'm was sitting at my desk, saw my business cards and thought of you."
"Ordered a glass of Syrah with dinner."
"I wish I'd been a better man for you."
"Had a therapy session today. For the first time, I was truthful about what happened between us, without omitting any details."
As the days passed all the messages were marked as 'Seen', yet they had all gone unanswered. Fitz was growing frustrated, and yearned for the days when she had blocked him. At least back then he had no means of reaching her, now it was like a cruel joke was being played on him. Why did she bother opening his messages if she had no intentions of replying?
"Are you ever going to say anything?"
Day 8. Nothing.
Fitz had had enough. He had opened himself up and this was the result—more ignoring him on her part, except this time it was intentional and it was staring him in the face. Deciding that for the sake of his mental health he needed to settle this once and for all he opted for one final message, and after sending it he vowed he would delete the app and make a true effort to move on. His initial goal had been to apologize, and he had accomplished it. The hard part had come and he had to come to terms with it going unacknowledged. This was the vulnerability in an apology; tougher that the taking ownership of your mistakes part.
"Livvie,
I keep expending this energy towards trying to reach you, and I was aware that when I first made any attempt it may have become an exercise in futility. I can't deny that it pains me to see that my words have gone unanswered, but I don't blame you. I hope that someday you may find it in your heart to forgive me. I'm choosing to let the shame and guilt go, or else I'm going to go insane. I find comfort in the fact that my words may have reached you somehow, and that the last words I spoke to you in person are not the last words you'll have from me. I wish you the best."
It'd been over a week and the messages kept coming. Olivia couldn't help but feel sadness when reading them. She'd forgiven him long ago so why couldn't she just reply with that and be done with it? The reality was that she felt for him; it was obvious in his messages that he too had been through the wringer. Not only the loss of his son taking its toll on him, but the complete decimation of his life as he knew it as well. She kept reading his messages over and over until one night she just gave in.
"I need to see you. Can you meet me?" she typed and quickly pressed send before she could give it another thought.