A/N: It's finally up! I've been working on this chapter for a while and got the worst writer's block every time I tried to come back to it. Thank you for all your reviews and encouragement, because that really is what keeps me coming back and helps me work through whatever funk I'm in. I'm sorry it took so long, but I'm very happy to be back to this story. I hope y'all let me know what you think.
"He did what?"
"Oh you heard right. We nearly lost the entire account in less than five minutes."
Olivia shook her head in disbelief. "That's –"
"Moronic? Imbecilic? The reason James has already picked out my grave plot? Trust me, I know."
She watched her boss run a hand over his face, now red with anger.
"Don't fire him," she advised when he stopped pacing long enough to reach for the phone on his desk. "Jared has some ways to go, but...he's sweet, Cy."
"Sweet?" Cyrus looked at her as if she had grown two heads. "Sweet doesn't keep this place up and running, Liv. I didn't expect him to be able to fill your shoes, but I also didn't expect him to be this incompetent." He let out a breath, sinking into his chair and pressing his palms into his eyes.
"Cy," she leaned forward, repeating when he didn't respond, "Cy?"
He removed his hands to reveal uncharacteristically anxious eyes.
"It's just a lot, Liv. Without Verna..."
"I know." She nodded sympathetically.
Although he had put up a brave front, ever since his business partner's passing a few months prior, he was plagued with juggling the stress that they had so long shared when it came to overseeing the firm. And she wasn't the only one to notice; on more than a few occasions, his husband had called to complain that he was badgering their daughter – her poor goddaughter – during story time with rants about the "pigheaded wastes of human cells," he interacted with on a daily basis.
"One of these days, I'm going to retire and just hand the entire place over to you."
"Yeah right," she shook her head, "you're way too much of a workaholic to retire before you're on your deathbed."
"Even then, James will probably have to pry a file or two from my cold, dead hands."
They shared a laugh and each reached for the lunches they had set on his desk, hers a salad from home and his a hearty burger his assistant had picked up from Five Guys.
"So tell me," he started a minute later, "how are things with you and Shaw's boy?"
Surprised by the question, she shoved her salad around with her fork and shrugged.
She hadn't spoken to him since their falling out the night before he left, and truth be told, she had barely noticed. For the past week, their relationship had been reduced to a one-way stream of good morning texts and late-night phone calls, all of which she let go unanswered.
Almost instantly, her thoughts drifted to Fitz.
They had been playing a dangerous game during the past week, and she knew it. For all their talk of friendship, they flirted like lovers, and being with him made her forget anyone else even existed.
She enjoyed every second she spent with him by day and wrestled with the guilt of it all by night. But the truth of the matter was that whatever it was between them wasn't intentional – it never had been – and she was beginning to wonder where they were supposed to go from there. Were they supposed to go anywhere?
"Liv?"
She blinked, reigning in her thoughts and returning her attention to Cyrus. "Huh? Oh, yeah, we're...ok."
It was a lie, a boldfaced lie. It felt wrong even leaving her mouth, but she had no interest in fleshing out the messy details of her love life with her boss, regardless of how close they were.
He eyed her curiously. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah," she nodded quickly, clearing her throat, "Why do you ask?"
"I had James put you two down for the dinner party tonight, but now he's telling me I was supposed to make sure you were still a 'thing,' like we're in junior high." He rolled his eyes. "Well that, and James thinks Ella doesn't like him."
She vividly remembered the first time she had taken Dean to visit them. Ella cried nearly the entire time, stopping only whenever he was out of eyesight. James later called to say that it was a warning and that she should break up with him immediately. She found it hilarious at the time, but now she couldn't help but wonder if there was some truth to it.
"Wait," she suddenly looked up from her food, her eyes wide, "that's tonight? I thought it was Friday."
"Today is Friday." He narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you ok, Liv?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." She sighed. "I just have a lot on my mind…" she trailed off before adding, "with all these upcoming meetings."
He nodded understandably, "I know what you mean. I have to meet with Harding later, and we both know how much of a pain in the ass he can be." With a huff, he leaned back into his seat. "Well, don't worry too much about the dinner party. James will probably try to keep you there all night, but he'll be too busy with his college friends after a drink or two. I can get you two out of there in an hour –"
"It'll just be me," she noted. "Dean's in Florida for work."
She was grateful for the available excuse, unsure of how she'd explain his absence otherwise.
"If you show up alone, James is going to kill me." Cyrus frowned. "He's trying to impress our new neighbors, they work for the Times" he continued with a roll of his eyes, "and he has this thing planned to a tee. If anything goes wrong and, God forbid, it's my fault, I won't hear the end of it. I told him you were bringing a guest, so please, bring a guest."
Stifling a laugh at his desperation, she shook her head. "Cy –"
"Liv," he cut her off, "I'm asking as your dear old friend and mentor. Don't you have someone else you could bring? What about Red?"
"So you can spend the entire night trying to convince her to ditch her own business and come back to work here?" She raised her eyebrows.
Cyrus shrugged shamelessly. "Desperate times, Liv."
"I'll see what I can do." Glancing down at her watch, she stood and started to gather her things. "I'm just going to get a head start on reviewing the McManus account so I can get out of here on time, since, on top of picking up my car from the mechanic, I now have to find a date for tonight."
"Sorry, kid," Cyrus offered halfheartedly. "See you at seven."
She started to walk out the door, stopping to glance at him, then his lunch, smirking. "You won't have to worry about whether I show up with someone if you don't find some mouthwash before you go home. James will kill you if he finds out you're having Ethan sneak you food off the strictly forbidden list."
He waved dismissively. "He'll get over it when I do that thing he likes."
"And that's my cue to leave."
At exactly five, Olivia emerged from her office, her phone sandwiched between her shoulder and ear as she quickly made her way to the elevator.
"Abby, are you sure you can't come?"
"Sorry, Liv, you know I'd put up with Cyrus for you, but David has had this reservation for weeks."
"I know, I forgot you mentioned that the other day," she sighed. "Can you think of anyone else who'd be free?"
"Carter," Abby immediately offered, "you know, if he's not doing algebra homework."
Abby laughed as Olivia groaned, shaking her head at the thought of Abby's high school-aged employee who gawked at her every time she stepped foot in the bakery.
"I'm serious, Abby."
"So am I," she's snickered, continuing after a moment, "why don't you ask your new friend, Fitz," she emphasized his name with a sultry tone that made Olivia regret sharing anything of their time together with her.
"I'm not asking him to come with me to a dinner party."
"I don't see why not," Abby spoke nonchalantly, "you've already gone on dates, and you even bought him an anniversary present."
"We haven't been on any dates," she scoffed, "and the tie was just a thank you gift for driving me around."
Though she tried to play it off, Abby's words struck a chord. She knew there was far more truth to her friend's implications than she was willing to give her credit for. In fact, she didn't need Abby's assertions to tell her that they had tiptoed off the narrow line of platonic friendship.
"If you say so," Abby conceded insincerely. "But I still think you should invite him."
"Abby, no –"
"Come on, Liv, you guys are actually friends, right? What's the big deal? It'd be no different than if I went."
The line grew quiet, and Abby blew out a long breath.
"You really have feelings for him, don't you?"
"No," she responded far too quickly. A beat passed, and the elevator doors opened to let in a few more people. Lowering her voice, she admitted, "I mean, I don't know. It's too soon…" she trailed off unconvincingly.
"Is it? Or do you just think it should be?"
"Look, I have to go."
As soon as the doors opened, she was ready to hang up, but Abby quickly spoke, "What's the worst that could happen? You've been doing the same song and dance with Dean for years and look where that's gotten you –"
"Exactly, look where it's gotten me." Her voice grew louder again with exasperation, as she made her way through the parking garage, "Things are complicated, and the last thing I need to do is jump straight into another relationship."
"Hate to break it to you, Liv, but it sounds like you're already halfway there."
Olivia's steps slowed as she noticed Fitz standing outside his car, leaning against the passenger door.
"I really have to go."
With an amused snort, Abby snuck out a quick, "Tell loverboy I said 'hi'," before hanging up.
Dismissing her friend's words, Olivia tucked her phone back into her purse and approached him.
"Hi."
"Hi, stranger," he smiled, opening the door for her.
It had been less than two days since she had seen him last, but she instantly noted how much she had missed the warm welcome of his crooked grin. Their last ride together – the day after their department store visit – was unusually silent, as she'd spent the entire morning trip buried in emails... and desperately trying to ignore how flustered she felt around him.
After working through lunch, she later found herself blowing off steam with Abby, as a quick trip after work to drop off her car at the mechanic turned into a stop at none other than Angel's Remorse. One hour and two drinks later, when the liquor had loosened her tongue and she felt entirely stuck in the surrounding swamp of memories, she couldn't help but gush about her time with Fitz. Abby merely watched on with raised brows; there were many things she had witnessed Olivia Pope do since their first days together in grad school, but gushing over someone certainly wasn't one of them.
They finished the night at Abby's apartment, where she promptly decided to crash once discovering a – supposedly borrowed – stockpile of her own clothing in her best friend's closet. The next morning, she contacted Lucia to pass along the message that she was riding in to work with Abby, calling the young woman back only hours later to also share with Fitz that she would be getting a ride home from Cyrus. And that brought her to this morning, when Lucia returned the message with one on Fitz's behalf; one of the drivers was sick, and they needed him at work that morning to pick up some clients.
She hadn't expected the immediate pang of disappointment she felt at the news, the sullenness in her own tone as she offered a brief reply of, "Oh, ok," catching her by surprise.
"So, where to?"
The sound of his voice pulled her from her thoughts, and she turned to him after buckling in.
"Just the mechanic, the one you told me about. I dropped off my car the other night."
"Good," he nodded, "Charlie's good at what he does, and I can talk him into giving you the friends and family discount."
He started to reach for the radio, but she beat him to it, toying with the buttons until she reached her usual station.
"It's my last ride," she pointed out, as she could practically feel the disapproval in his stare before turning to him for confirmation. "I deserve radio privileges."
Just barely hiding a smile, he shook his head. "What happened to you being a fellow jazz enthusiast?"
Shrugging, she responded simply, "I missed my R&B."
"I think that's fair." He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze growing less playful and more intense as he took her in. Suddenly, he asked, "How was your day?"
She thought the question over. "Busy, but the good kind of busy. I had a few meetings that went a lot better than I thought they would and…you probably don't care about the details," she laughed, shaking her head.
His hands on the steering wheel, he kept his foot on the brakes and turned to her. "I care about whatever you want to share with me," he stated firmly.
The genuineness in his words made her breath hitch, and she was suddenly aware of how few people in her life seemed to care the way he did. With a small smile, she watched him pull out of the parking space, continuing,
"Ok, so there's this client – I probably shouldn't be telling you this, so you have to promise not to repeat it to anyone…"
"Alright, Ms. Pope, you're good to go."
Olivia smiled gratefully at the man handing her back her car keys. "Thank you, I appreciate it."
"Anything for a friend of Fitz," Charlie nodded in his direction, and they both turned to watch as Fitz walked around her car, inspecting it for a third time. "If you can put up with that son of a bitch, you deserve some sort of compensation."
"I heard that Charlie," Fitz called out, making his way over to them.
"Everything look good enough for you, boss?" Charlie questioned sarcastically.
"If I said no, would you do anything about it?"
"Nope." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of licorice, snapping a bite off the end.
Chuckling, Fitz shook his free hand. "Well, thanks for helping Liv out."
Seemingly without thinking, he rested a hand on the small of her back. She bit her lip at the contact, thanking Charlie a final time before Fitz guided her back over to her car.
"Looks like you're all set." He looked her car over once more, still not moving from his spot by her side.
"Looks like I am." She toyed with her keys, stalling to finally unlock the door. She turned to him. "Thank you for everything, Fitz, really."
"The pleasure was all mine." He offered a smile, the hesitance held in its halfhearted curve mirroring her own reluctance to leave.
"I guess I'll see you around." She unlocked and opened the door, prepared to climb in when he stopped her.
"Liv, wait."
She turned to see that he was fumbling with his phone. A moment later, he handed it to her opened to a new contact. Without hesitation, she entered her information and handed it back to him. He tapped on the screen several times before she heard her own phone ding with a new text in her bag.
Taking a step closer, Fitz locked his gaze intently with hers. "If you need a ride...or anything at all, you call me, ok?"
With a nod, she repeated quietly, "Ok."
They stayed in place for a long moment, eventually separating to get into their own cars. She adjusted her seat and mirrors, but held off on putting the car into drive. Her gaze drifted to Fitz once he was settled back in the Lincoln, and she realized he was waiting for her to go first.
A beat passed when his eyes met hers, and he mouthed, "You ok?"
She nodded, but her hand remained frozen on the gear shift. Still watching her curiously, he began to wave her off. She let out a laugh as his brows furrowed and he started using both hands to shoo her away with increased gusto.
As she watched his movements give way to his own laughter, she realized she wasn't ready to be away from him just yet, and Abby's words echoed in her ears.
To hell with it.
Before she had a chance to think on it any further, she grabbed her phone. No sooner than it started ringing did she see him pick up.
"Yes?"
"I have a favor to ask."
Olivia shifted her balance from one foot to the other, letting her eyes scan the mirror in a final appraisal of her outfit choice. After half an hour of trying and re-trying on half of her closet, she had decided on a blush pink, bloused-sleeve shift dress that she knew to complement her skin particularly well. After deciding to finish the look with nude heels, she had quickly freshened up her makeup and pinned her hair up in a carefully-crafted messy updo.
After she grabbed her clutch and an unopened bottle of wine, she checked her watch a final time, cursing under her breath as she realized she was five minutes late. A minute later, she was on the elevator, only a floor above the lobby when the reality of what she was about to do hit her fully.
She was going on a date with Fitz.
Well, not entirely. She had asked Fitz to be her plus one to a dinner party, and while the word 'date' hadn't been mentioned once, the flutter in her chest made her feel otherwise.
Releasing a breath, she made her way through the lobby, only to stop abruptly at the sight that greeted her right outside the door. Directly in front of her building, leaning against the car's passenger door, was Fitz, donning a button down concealed by a burgundy V-neck sweater and a gray blazer.
An army of butterflies settled in her stomach, and she let her gaze linger, observing after a moment the way he fidgeted with the ends of his blazer, clenching and unclenching his jaw as he glanced down the block.
Within seconds, she approached him, immediately complimenting, "You look great."
Smiling shyly, he looked himself over. "You sure? I know you said it was more casual, but I didn't know if –"
"Fitz," she cut him off as she reached out to adjust his lapel, "you look great, really. Trust me."
She refrained from looking him over once more, feeling her cheeks heat at just the thought.
"I should be the one saying that to you." He suddenly grinned.
It was her turn to smile sheepishly, and she quickly brushed off the comment. "We should get going. The earlier we get there, the earlier we're allowed to leave."
"Well, when you put it like that." With a smirk, he opened the door for her.
"Ok make this next right, and just park wherever you see a free spot."
A little over forty minutes after they had left, Fitz pulled into a spot conveniently only a few houses down from Cyrus' and James' brownstone. She recognized several of the other cars lining the block and glanced at the clock to confirm that it was only ten minutes after seven, just late enough for them to dodge the first few minutes of awkward introductions and easily join right in with the crowd.
"I can't thank you enough for this." She turned to Fitz.
"I know," he grinned, "you said it at least once every five minutes on the way over here."
"I mean it." She returned a soft smile of her own, flicking a stray strand of hair from in front of her eyes. "I didn't assume you would – I mean, you didn't have to…"
He shrugged. "I didn't have anything better to do, and you're not the worst company I've ever kept."
She scrunched up her nose. "Well, thanks, I guess."
They both laughed until he suddenly reached out to her, pushing back the same strand of hair that had again fallen in her eyes. Instead of returning to his side, his hand lingered on the side of her face, and then, gently, almost hesitantly, he held her chin.
"I told you, anything you need. Just call me."
She felt her entire body hum, every part of her buzzing at his words, at his eyes so clear and piercing, at the sweet burn of his touch.
She wanted to kiss him.
She wanted to forget the dinner party, to forget whatever murky relationships she was still tethered to, to lose herself entirely in the feeling of him like she should have that night.
She knew he could sense it too. She could see it in the way his eyes roamed over her face repeatedly, pausing at her lips, and in the way his own lips seemed to twitch in anticipation. She nearly closed her eyes, nearly called to him with an imploring sigh when he suddenly removed his hand and leaned back.
"Are you ready to go in?"
The casualness of his tone did little to hide the strain in his voice, and she had the immediate, irrational desire to ask him why he was depriving them of what they both so obviously wanted. But before the words could slip past her filter, he was outside, walking over to open her door.
"Thanks," she mumbled, still in a daze. She barely noticed when he grabbed the bottle of wine from her hands so that she could slide out of the car and reach for her clutch.
They walked down the block quietly, the silence between them uncomfortable perhaps for the first time. She glanced at him despite herself, noticing the slight squint in his gaze and the way he seemed to grip the bottle with as much strength as the glass would allow. She wasn't sure what to make of his tenseness until they reached the bottom of the stairs of their hosts' home and he hesitated.
Oh.
Instantly, she remembered his earlier unsureness over his outfit, and she nearly kicked herself for not putting two and two together. She was so caught up in her own frayed nerves, she hadn't truly considered his.
"Fitz," she rested a hand on his shoulder, calling his attention to her, "they're good people, I promise, and I'll be right by your side the entire time."
She could see the moment he let himself start to relax. His shoulders eased back, and the ends of his lips curved upwards slightly into a small, crooked smile.
"Ok," he nodded.
Smiling reassuringly, she absentmindedly took his hand in hers. "Ok."
"Well, look who showed up fashionably late." James quipped playfully the moment he let them inside, his grin wide as he took her in.
"I think you mean right on time," she quickly shot back.
"Well I won't argue with you there." He helped her remove her jacket, hanging it on the coat rack as his eyes finally fell on Fitz. "And you brought a friend," he noted enthusiastically, his eyebrows rising in surprise. "Or more than a friend? You mean to tell me you finally dropped that dead weight and upgraded to – what are you, some type of model," he looked Fitz over again pointedly, "and didn't even so much as mention it to me."
She struggled to stifle a laugh at Fitz's wide eyes, shaking her head as she corrected, "This is Fitz, and he's a friend."
She didn't have time to think of how wrong the words sounded, regardless of how many times she had repeated them to herself, because James' gaze suddenly shifted downwards, narrowing in like a laser.
Confused, she followed his line of sight until she realized he was looking at their joint hands. Her entire face flushed, and she clumsily separated her hand from his.
Smirking as he glanced between the two, James offered his own hand for Fitz to shake. "Well, welcome, Fitz. I'm James, I'm sure Liv has said only amazing things about me."
"Of course," she indulged him as she watched the two shake hands. "Now, where are Paul and Lara? I saw their car out front."
She was eager to join the rest of the guests. As well as she knew James, she knew his journalistic instincts sometimes got the best of him, especially where matters of the heart...or downright salacious were concerned. He was a dog with a bone, and would probably pester them all night if she let him.
"You know, they were just asking for you," he played along, but the way he looked them over once more told her he wasn't done with them just yet. "Come on, they're in the living room."
After a brief round of introductions not nearly as awkward as their encounter with James, the party of eight moved into the dining room. As she thanked Fitz for pulling out her seat, she noticed James checking his watch yet again, then eye the empty seats just to the right of his spot at the head of the table.
She leaned in to Cyrus, who was seated next to her at the other end of the table, and whispered, "Who is he waiting for? Isn't everyone here?"
"The new neighbors," he huffed. "You'd think for a couple that works at the Times, they'd know how to keep time, especially since they're right next door."
As if on cue, the bell rang, and James jolted up from his seat.
"I'll get that," he was halfway out the room in no time, calling out as he left, "Cy, can you start bringing out the appetizers?"
"Sure, honey," he resigned with less than half of his husband's enthusiasm.
"Let me help you with that."
She turned, surprised to see Fitz standing and ready to follow Cyrus into the kitchen.
"No, you sit." Cyrus shook his head, waving a hand as he rose from his seat. "If it's just me, I have an excuse to be in there longer, which means more time to sneak in a few of those cookies Randy brought. James won't let me so much as look at them." And with that he was gone.
Olivia couldn't help but smile as Fitz chuckled at his hasty departure.
"Your boss is…"
"I know," she laughed, "trust me, I know."
"So you two are really close?"
Nodding, she reached for the glass of water set in front of her spot. After taking a sip, she started to share, "I've known him since my first year of undergrad. He was at a debate competition I competed in, and after I won my round, he came up to me saying something about how I had a knack for spin," she smiled at the memory. "He went on and on about how I had a future in PR, and I honestly thought he was a little crazy until he gave me his card. He told me to keep in touch, and I did –"
"Don't forget the part about how he spent three years convincing you to come up here for grad school," Paul suddenly cut in from across the table.
"And thank God for that," Lara spoke up from beside him, "I swear, I would have left mid-semester if Liv wasn't in my class, tenure be damned. These kids don't know the first thing about anything these days."
"Now, wait a minute, Lar, if I remember correctly –"
"You probably don't –"
"You didn't do too well in Professor Michael's class when we were that age…"
Distracted by their bickering, Olivia jumped at the sound of Fitz's voice so close to her ear as he whispered, "You know, you always struck me as the teacher's pet type."
She suppressed a sigh at the feel of his breath tickling her ear and didn't get a chance to respond as James suddenly emerged from the entry way.
"Alright, everyone," he gathered the room's attention, "these are our new neighbors Lillian and Ethan Forrester." He continued the introductions, going around the table to say everyone's names, all the while Olivia's gaze settled on Lillian.
She eyed the woman curiously, trying to figure out why she seemed so familiar. She recognized the name, as she had read a few of her - rather bland, if she were being quite honest - pieces, but something told her they had met once before. As James guided the pair to their seats, she noticed the way Lillian's gaze seemed to linger on her as well.
So she wasn't making it up.
She thought hard for a minute, running through all her contacts in the last few months, but still she came up empty. Not wanting to bother the woman, she simply decided they must have crossed paths when she was working on press for a client and returned her attention to the rest of the room.
James glanced in their direction and frowned when he saw Cyrus' seat empty. "Cy? Do you need help with those appetizers?"
"No!"
For all his earlier reservations, Fitz blended in with the group seamlessly. She bit back a smile as he debated sports with Randy and found herself completely enthralled as he discussed the current state of academia with Lara. While she knew intimately of his charm, she hadn't known him to be so downright charismatic, and seeing him work the room the way he did made her heart flip repeatedly throughout the night.
For a moment, she could so clearly see what his father must have – that spark, that natural allure that would've made him the best lawyer, and probably the best politician in the game. But every time he turned to her, every time he leaned in to whisper a quick joke or simply focused every ounce of his attention on her as she spoke, she couldn't help but be grateful that fate hadn't led him down that path. He held something particularly endearing, something authentic that she wasn't sure would have survived in such a climate; it seemed to reach out to her, inviting something in her to reach out to him.
"Here," he suddenly offered, angling his dessert plate towards her. "You know you want to try it."
She glanced at the half-eaten chocolate lava cake, and though she was still too stuffed from dinner, she couldn't help but lick her lips at the sight of its liquid center spilling onto the plate. Without a word, she reached for the fork in his hand and took a bite, closing her eyes unintentionally as the dessert danced on her tongue.
When she opened her eyes, she found Fitz staring at her intently. At once she remembered the way he had reacted when she took a sip of his scotch, an almost identical barrage of tension settling heavily between them.
"So, Fitz," a voice called out, effectively interrupting the moment "where is it you said you worked again?"
They both turned their attention to Lillian, who had asked the question all the way from the other end of the table.
Olivia frowned, she had been receiving unpleasant vibes from the woman since she had gotten settled, catching the way her curious glances in their direction had quickly given way to something akin to judgment early on. As conversations had rarely spanned the entire table, and she knew James wanted to impress the woman and her husband, she refrained from commenting, but now, she couldn't ignore the aversion spreading in her gut at the way she singled out Fitz.
"I don't think I've mentioned it," he tried to joke, and she could sense that her question made him equally as uneasy.
"Oh," she flashed a phony grin, "well, you mentioned you studied law, and I have a nephew straight out of law school who's trying to get some work. Maybe I could pass his resume along to you."
Olivia just barely contained her scoff.
How tacky.
"Which firm are you at? Ralph and Menez? Sullivan and Polk?"
"Uh, none," he cut her off, "I'm not at any firm."
Olivia rested a hand on his leg, signaling that she was ready to intervene, but he continued, "I, uh, actually work at Red Giant Jets."
Lillian's eyes went wide as if she had won the lottery, then immediately narrowed as she tilted her head, a smug smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
"Liv, isn't that Dean's company?" Someone other than Lillian called out, but Olivia was too preoccupied by what seemed an awful lot like an approaching ambush to notice who.
The woman's smile only grew at the comment, but yet, ignoring it, she continued, "Oh, are you legal counsel there, or..."
This bitch.
Olivia felt her stomach drop as she realized that this woman – whoever the hell she was – was goading him. She knew Lillian's type well, she had interacted with them regularly whenever she was on Dean's arm at some company party; another Manhattan elite who was high off her own status, always ready and aimed to shame someone for something they had no reason to be ashamed of. She had no idea how this woman knew anything about Fitz and why she had targeted him specifically, but she certainly wasn't going to stay and play whatever game she was getting at.
"You know what, Fitz and I were actually just about to leave –"
"I'm one of the company drivers," he stated bluntly.
The room grew silent, and she held her breath, uncertain of what she might let slip otherwise. She tried to calm her rage as she noticed Fitz still staring at Lillian head on, showing that he was not so easily rattled.
But, then, with a dismissive chuckle, she continued, "Well, maybe I should ask my nephew to help you get a job." Her laughter subsided as she continued, "I know it must have been hard, what with your father's face splashed everywhere. I mean, you are Gerry Grant's son, right? Fitzgerald Grant III…" she paused, obviously having waited to show off that particular discovery all night. After letting her words linger, she trailed off, "But chauffeuring? What an interesting career choice…"
In an instant, his face burned bright red and he lowered his gaze, and the last of Olivia's restraint snapped, quick and abrupt like a rubber band.
"Funny, I've said the same thing about you every time I've read an article of yours."
She vaguely registered Cyrus choking on his wine and a few quiet gasps as she took in Lillian's hardening eyes.
"Cy, James, thank you for having us, but I think we're going to go head out now." She glanced around the table, bidding everyone a silent farewell until she arrived at Lillian. "I'm sorry we can't stay longer, but at least now there will be enough space for both Lillian and her ego."
She didn't dare wait for a response, instead quickly grabbing Fitz's hand and guiding him to the front door. He helped her put her jacket back on, and they were nearly out the door when James came racing around the corner.
"Liv –"
"James," she sighed, closing her eyes, "I know you wanted to make a good impression, but I'm not going to apologize –"
"And I wouldn't want you to," he quickly interrupted. "I'm sorry," he looked pointedly at her, then Fitz, "really."
She smiled as much as she could, her body still buzzing with anger, and nodded. "Thank you again for tonight. Give Ella a kiss for me."
"Will do." He opened the door for them, whisper-yelling as they walked out, "I should've known about them like I knew about Dean, Ella cried when they came over to introduce themselves."
She spared an amused glance in his direction but didn't respond, keeping up with Fitz's pace as they quickly made their way to the car. He opened her door without looking at her, silently sliding into his side and almost immediately pulling out onto the road.
"Fitz," she breathed out when they reached a stop sign at the end of the block, "I'm so sorry, she shouldn't have – I didn't know anyone there would…"
"You don't have to apologize for her," he spoke curtly, and she frowned at the callousness creeping into his tone.
"Are you ok?" She stared at him for a long moment, studying the hard lines on his face. "Fitz? Fitz –"
"I'm fine, Olivia." Yet the edge in his voice told her he was anything but.
"Do you want to talk about it –"
"No, I don't want to talk. I just...I don't want to talk about it." He shook his head.
"Ok," she nodded, feeling increasingly guilty for the way their night had gone. Not wanting to frustrate him any further, she quietly agreed, "We won't talk."
They rode in complete silence the entire ride. She had closed her eyes and rested her head against the window after the adrenaline started to wear off, and she was only half conscious when he parked down the block from her building.
"Liv," he called out softly.
She lifted her head and blinked, rubbing at her eyes as she let out a yawn.
"Thank you," she grabbed her clutch and unbuckled her seatbelt, "and I'm sorry again about everything."
"Liv."
Even in her half-awake state, she recognized the urgency in his tone. Stifling another yawn, she looked at him and grew alert at what she saw. His expression was pained, his brows creased and his eyes sad.
She felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her and, without thinking, rested a hand on his cheek. As he continued to stare at her, his lips parting then closing again, she realized he was ready to talk.
"Come on." She stroked his cheek with her thumb, before pulling her hand away. "Walk me to my door?"
He didn't say anything, simply following behind as they made their way to her building. She nodded to greet Eddie, who quirked an eyebrow at them from the front desk, and fidgeted with her fingers while they waited for the elevator.
The ride up seemed to last longer than it ever had, and she grew increasingly anxious as they took turns stealing glances at one another. Just before they arrived on her floor, she finally met his eyes again. She realized then that they weren't sad as much as they were filled with...longing.
She at once sensed her heart beating furiously against her ribcage.
When the doors opened, she felt as though she were floating, her feet shifting so quickly she wasn't sure they were still even there. Fitz followed right behind, his body practically tethered to hers.
Rather than stop at her door like she intended to, she fumbled with her keys until he placed a steadying hand on her arm and guided it to the lock. Breathing in deeply, she unlocked her door and ushered him inside.
The moment the door closed behind them, she leaned against it and he stood directly in front of her. Slowly, he leaned down until his forehead rested against hers, every part of her melting at the contact.
"Liv," he sighed.
They were so close. All she had to do was lean up on her tiptoes, like she had so often when she was a child, when things were simple and comfortable and safe.
She swallowed hard, letting out a shaky breath to try to clear her thoughts. It worked only slightly, just enough for her to whisper, "Talk to me, Fitz. Please."
He leaned back, and she immediately wished he hadn't. It was just enough for them to maintain easy eye contact, but she already missed the feel of his skin against hers.
He was silent for a long moment before finally speaking "I don't think I'll ever be the type of man who holds some grand title or fits in at dinner parties..." he sighed, running his hand through his hair.
"And what's wrong with that?" She challenged, watching him carefully. "Screw people like Lillian who think that's all there is to life."
He didn't respond, instead looking away, and she could see that he was starting to close himself off to her. Gently, she placed a hand on his cheek and guided his gaze back to her.
"Fitz?"
His frown deepened, and the longing returned to his eyes more earnestly, sending a chill down her spine.
He opened and closed his mouth several times, before finally responding, "I'll never be the type of man for a woman like you. I'll never…I'll never be Dean Shaw.
At once, it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. His words sent a shock through her system, and she struggled to pay attention as she realized he wasn't done talking.
"You told me I needed to figure out what I want, and...I want you, Liv." This time, his words seemed to strike him as much as they did her. A flash of regret crossed his face, before he released a breath. "I want you, and I know I shouldn't, I can't –"
She didn't give him a chance to finish.
The second her lips were on his, she reaffirmed that kissing him was the single most electrifying experience she had ever known.
The thrill of his mouth molding against hers felt even better than the last time, like standing in the eye of a hurricane – peace amidst chaos, refuge inside the wildest storm. He groaned into her mouth, wrapping his arms around her waist as she held his face in her hands, and she knew he could feel it too.
She sighed as his tongue started to brush against hers, and soon, he moved his hands to the back of her thighs, hoisting her up and allowing her legs to wrap around his waist. His lips continued to move against hers hungrily as he took a step forward, then another, and they collided forcefully with the door.
The sound of something crashing against the ground broke them apart.
His eyes were hooded and took a moment to fully refocus on her. Meanwhile, she glanced at the floor, cringing as she saw the cracked glass of his phone which must've slipped out of his pocket. He followed her gaze, then groaned.
"I knew I should've put a case on that thing."
She laughed softly, and he returned his attention to her. The air grew serious again, and she smoothed a hand over the back of his head, where some of his hair stood up courtesy of her wandering fingers.
"We shouldn't have done that," he spoke quietly, still holding her up.
"We probably shouldn't have," she agreed.
Slowly, he lowered her to the ground, and she instinctively placed her head on his shoulder. Hesitantly, he hugged her waist, and let his head rest on top of hers.
A minute passed before he muttered, "Liv?"
"Hmm?"
"What is this?"
It was a good question, a question that desperately needed an answer.
"This is me, wanting you too," she spoke honestly.
He let out a deep sigh and his grip tightened around her, staying that way for a long moment before he took a step back.
She frowned as he stared at her. He didn't say anything for a full minute, seeming to think his words over carefully.
"I was involved in an affair before," he suddenly admitted, much to her surprise, continuing before she could respond, "she was married, I was going through my divorce, and things got ugly." He paused, the memory obviously difficult to work through. "It was at my last job, she was another teacher at the high school. Word got out somehow, and we were both fired." He ran a hand over his face, and she took the opportunity to wipe the shock off of her own face. "It was a mess," he confessed with a sigh, "and…I can't go through that again."
His final words seemed to pain him as they left his mouth, and he didn't say anything after that, but he didn't need to. She realized that she needed to be straightforward with Dean – and herself – and needed to do so soon. If she wanted to try this, whatever "this" was, she'd need to do it with a clean slate.
"I'm going jogging in Central Park next Saturday," she spoke abruptly, "the Reservoir loop, if you want to join me?"
He looked at her confusedly, a tinge of frustration coloring his features. "Liv –"
"Just give me until next Saturday," she requested sincerely, growing relieved as understanding softened his features. "I just need until then, and if you still mean what you said, if you still want me...meet me there at three."
A beat passed before he nodded, a small smile settling on his face as he stepped towards her.
"It's a date."
They both grinned widely at his words, letting them sink in for a moment before he reached down to grab his broken phone.
Frowning, he looked it over. "Let's hope I can get this replaced before then."
Gently, he slid it back into his pocket and turned to her.
"I guess I'll see you Saturday."
She nodded. "See you Saturday."
Neither moved, and she could see practically see his internal debate as his gaze shifted from her eyes to her lips. She stood on her tiptoes so that her face was directly in front of his, inviting him to make the next move.
Grinning slyly, he leaned in and pecked her lips once. Then twice. And then a third time, before she rested back on her heels and stepped aside to let him walk to the door.
They both smiled, the moment feeling too much like a beginning for any goodbyes, and she watched him until he made it onto the elevator, waving a final time.
As she closed her front door, she couldn't stop the grin spreading across her face.
If only Abby could see her now.
Olivia groaned loudly as her phone vibrated with another call for the third time in fifteen minutes. She knew it had to be some time before seven, because her internal clock had yet to wake her, and yet, someone was obviously hellbent on getting in contact with her.
She had a vague idea of who it could be, given that Dean's flight was scheduled to come in today, and she groaned even louder. She knew they needed to have the difficult conversation, but she was at least hoping it would be during more acceptable daylight hours.
Rubbing her eyes, she sucked in a deep breath and thought over the string of lines she had at the ready to make the break up as smooth as possible. But when she picked up with a mumbled, "Hello?" she wasn't met with Dean's usual cocky "Hey, babe," instead receiving a particularly startling, "Olivia, darling!"
She shot up in bed immediately and stared at her phone, certain her ears were playing tricks on her.
"Mrs. Shaw?" She questioned tentatively when she returned the phone to her ear.
"Yes, it's me, dearie, and I told you, it's Diane. How are you?"
Again, she looked at the phone as if she were imagining things. Dean's mother had been nothing shy of a headache since their first encounter, when she not-so-jokingly quipped that another woman was "worming her way into her son's life and trust fund." They had shared pleasantries in public at best and little more than unimpressed gazes in private, so she couldn't even begin to understand why the woman was contacting her at ungodly hours for...chitchat?
"What are you–? Are you ok, Mrs. Shaw? Why are you calling?"
"Oh, don't act confused, dear, I'm sure you know just why I'm calling."
And there it was.
The syrupy-sweetness of her tone suddenly took on a bitter edge, and Olivia leaned against her headboard, bracing herself for whatever hell the woman was about to unfurl.
"I've been meaning to call you for a few days now, actually, it's quite funny. See, I saw you at Barneys the other day and, then, my friend Lillian – you remember, Lillian, don't you, dear? She was at the office party where you and my son got engaged," she spoke her last few words slowly, emphasizing them as if talking to a child. "Well, Lillian said you two were at the same dinner party together, last night."
She felt the exact moment her stomach dropped, her heart simultaneously leaping into her throat.
"And it gets even funnier, since, you see, I didn't want to bother you at Barneys, because you looked very busy with that nice man, and it turns out he was with you last night, wasn't he? What is his name again, Fitz?"
She didn't answer, praying her silence would make the woman go away entirely.
"And doesn't he work for my son?"
Shit.
"I think you and I need to have a little talk about your future with my son and Fitz's future with our company."