A/N: I know I have so many other stories to update, but this particular one came to me recently and I had to write it all down. It's about 90% finished and will probably be in 4 or 5 parts. A huge thank you to all of you for your recent reviews, messages and your ongoing support of all my various stories. Hoping to update them all over the Christmas period.
The title Glow comes from the Gavin James song of the same name: "I knew it from the day I met you, I'd hang on to your every word." And for other reasons too, which will soon become apparent...
I hope you love this as much as I loved writing it.
GLOW: PART ONE
Fitz
They were set up by Savannah, a mutual friend. She and Fitz had worked together in Silicon Valley; had both left around the same time two years ago to move to New York. For Savannah, it was a return to the city she grew up in - to her family, her oldest friends. But for Fitz, it was an entirely new adventure. He'd never lived outside of California before, except for bouts of travelling when he was younger. At thirty-six, with a perpetual string of nice-but-going-nowhere relationships and one of the best CVs in the tech industry, accepting the offer to work as a software consultant for a large East Coast rival was a no-brainer. It was flexible, very well paid and, most of all, he knew he desperately needed the change. He worried every day that forty was approaching; that he had never met a woman he'd wanted to settle down with; that he was still childless, when starting a family had always been his biggest dream.
New York was the best distraction. He loved his Manhattan apartment, his local neighborhood; loved the history, the architecture, the soul. Savannah took him under her wing at first: introduced him to her friends, invited him to bars and brunches and Broadway shows. She tried to set him up on dates and occasionally he accepted, mainly just to get her to stop pestering him. The truth was, it felt good to finally focus on himself and not on the constant struggle to find true love.
It wasn't long after his thirty-eighth birthday that Savannah persuaded him to go on a date with one of her high school friends, Olivia Pope. He'd heard her name mentioned numerous times: she was a detective in the NYPD, and always seemed to be too busy to come to any of the events Savannah asked her to.
"Fitz please," she'd begged one evening over dinner. "Liv is one of the most amazing people I know. She's thirty-six, she's smart, she's funny-"
"And hot," added David, Savannah's husband. "Don't forget hot."
"She is," Savannah had agreed seriously. "And I've been working on her for months to let me set her up with someone, and she's finally agreed - so please say you'll go? For me? I think you'll really like her."
Fitz hated himself for even thinking this question, let alone voicing it out loud, but over the years he'd learned that sometimes he had to: to spare himself. "If she's so amazing, then why is she single?"
Savannah had looked at him over her wine glass. It was the exact same question Olivia had asked her of Fitz the previous week, when she was extolling his virtues. And she gave the exact same answer:
"Because she's just like you, Fitz. She's fed up of dating. Now, she's looking for The One."
Two weeks later, with a monumental amount of expectation on their shoulders, Fitz and Olivia met in a cocktail bar on a warm Friday evening in June. Savannah had shown him a photo of her so that he'd recognize her, but his first thought when she entered the bar was that it was a woefully inadequate reflection of her.
In reality, she was absolutely breathtaking.
Petite, curvy, confident; pristine white dress, silver heels, glossy lips. And her skin. God. He'd dated black women before but the color of Olivia's skin, how soft it looked, how toned her muscles were beneath it - she was something else. She would stand out in any crowd, on any day, in any place in the world.
It was fair to say that he was taken with her from the very first moment he saw her.
Her dark eyes scanned the busy room as she walked towards him, taking everything in: inquisitive, clever and slightly suspicious (an occupational hazard, no doubt). When it was his turn to be appraised, he found himself flushing. She made him nervous in a way he'd never felt before with a woman. Nervous, and desperate to please.
When she finally held out her hand and smiled at him, he noticed there was something shy about it, just at the edges - and looking back, Fitz would say he probably fell a little bit in love with her right then and there.
It wasn't hard.
She was full of contradictions: the tough detective, the trailblazer; unlucky in love, tired of searching for the right person to share her life with. She opened up easily, like a flower that had been biding its time, waiting for the sunlight to break through the clouds again. Over one drink, and then two, and three, they commiserated over how miserable the dating game was; told each other their best worst stories, laughed until they couldn't breathe.
"I hate it," she sighed eventually, looking down into her espresso martini. "I hate feeling so… vulnerable. You know? Putting myself out there, hoping someone will see me. Over and over again. It's…"
"Scary. Exhausting. Hopeless, sometimes."
"Yes."
"What about tonight?"
He watched as a smile curved her lips; lifted her exquisite cheekbones. "You…" Her eyes met his and a thousand possibilities burst to life between them. "You are very easy to talk to, Fitz."
He wanted to hold her hand; to feel her delicate fingers curl around his. "You are very trusting, for a cop."
She frowned. "Yeah. That's weird. I'm usually much, much quieter on dates."
I feel it too, he wanted to say, to fill the space inside her where all her questions were fighting one another. This feels special to me, too.
But she changed the subject, and he realized he didn't need to verbalize it. The fact that she barely recognized herself told him all he needed to know about her and their date and them.
"Shall we go and get some food?" she suggested. "I don't think I'm ready for this evening to be over just yet."
He nodded, his pulse racing. Call it naivety, call it fate; call it the foolish hope of a helpless romantic - but Fitz already knew he would never be ready for his time with Olivia Pope to be over.
After dinner they ended up in the casino, sometime around midnight. They were seriously into each other, and Fitz didn't need to be a dating expert, didn't need to interpret any 'signs', to know that. He could just feel it. Their connection was undeniable. They couldn't stop talking, joking, flirting - and underneath all of that was the acknowledgement by them both that this was serious. This was real. He saw it in their brief moments of quiet, when her laughter would fade and she'd look across at him with wonder in her eyes. He was certain he was looking at her the exact same way.
As the night went on they began to get closer physically, too. Olivia didn't gamble - it was strongly discouraged in her line of work - but she stood beside him while he tried his luck at Blackjack, her warm body pressed too close, her mouth on his ear as she whispered to him whether to stick or twist. He eventually lost his first fifty bucks because she had slowly curled herself into his chest, her nose caressing the side of his neck. He was acutely aware of her rapid breathing, her pounding heart - or was that his? - as she ignored the game completely.
And, inevitably, she made him not just oblivious to the game but to the entire world.
"Damn it," he sighed as the dealer confiscated the last of his chips, but he didn't mean it. He could have thrown away ten times as much money and not have cared in the slightest.
Olivia giggled as he swept her away from the table, his strong arm encircling her tiny waist. He gazed down at her in the middle of a crowd of thousands, surrounded by noise and bright lights and screams of joy and despair - and he kissed her.
It was fierce, and passionate. Hungry. Tender. The best kiss he'd ever had.
The best kiss she'd ever had, too, judging by the dazed look on her beautiful face. And then she laughed, sliding her fingertips into his hair. He wondered when the last time she'd ever felt so carefree was. He could hardly remember when he had.
"Let's play Roulette," she said breathlessly, her lips moist and stung by his.
"You mean, you want me to play Roulette and you'll tell me what to do?"
Her eyes sparkled. "You're already learning. Good boy."
She made him make some terrible decisions at the Roulette wheel; stole all his concentration with her wandering hands, her intoxicating presence. He lost his second fifty dollars within fifteen minutes - but then she kissed him again and invited him to her apartment in her softest, sexiest voice, and he made the best decision of his life by saying yes.
They met again on Sunday morning for coffee, enjoying the sunshine on the sidewalk outside a local café. As it turned out, and as Savannah had forgotten to mention, they only lived three blocks apart.
"How was the wedding?" he asked, sipping his latte. Olivia had had to kick him out of her bed early the previous morning, to drive over to New Jersey for a friend's nuptials.
She rolled her eyes. "Awful." And then: "No, I take that back. It was really nice. But did I enjoy being there, thirty-six and the only woman who was single? No, I did not."
Fitz laughed. "I know the feeling. Did anyone try to set you up? I hate when my friends do that to me."
"Fortunately not. Besides…" She stirred her coffee, giving herself a moment. "I'm not sure I would have been interested."
She looked at him again, anxious and brave and her least favorite of all - vulnerable.
He sat forward and reached for her hand. "I'm only interested in you, Olivia," he said calmly. He knew that for all her tough exterior, more than anything else she was scared. He was scared too: scared of her running; scared of losing the person he already suspected might be the other half of his soul.
She exhaled, squeezing his fingers between hers. "Good. Me too." Her smile was spectacular.
"But I think," he went on, "We should take things slowly. I don't want to rush. Friday night was… It was incredible. I don't even have the words to describe it. But I'd like to date you properly, if you'll let me?"
She sighed his name. "Fitz. Yes. Of course I will."
Checking their diaries, they discovered it was almost three weeks until they both had a free evening. Fitz was traveling to California in two hours to attend several business meetings, and to celebrate his father's birthday; the day he arrived back in New York, Olivia was flying out to Chicago for a week-long training course.
"Well," she murmured, "You did say we should take it slow." She sounded disappointed, just like he was.
"I did… Wait, why did I say that?"
She laughed and stood up, tucking her purse under her arm. "Because you're a gentleman. But you can call me while you're away, if you want."
"Oh, I'm gonna call you."
She pursed her lips, trying and failing to hold back a ridiculously big smile. "Okay. Good."
Fitz stood too, and leaned in to kiss her cheek. He lingered a second, his hand on her waist; breathed in the scent of her perfume, her hair, which triggered the most visceral memories of their night together. With his eyes closed he saw her bedroom, and the way her bare skin glowed in the lamplight; felt her body wrapped around his, her ravenous kisses, her breasts rising against his chest as he moved inside her, over and over, falling apart together and then barely pausing to rest before they started again. It felt endless, timeless.
It felt like a beginning.
Little did they both know, the middle would be unlike anything they could ever have imagined. It would be far longer than three weeks until they saw each other again - and everything would be changed, forever.
Olivia called to cancel their date while she was waiting in Chicago airport. "I'm so sorry, Fitz. I just feel completely exhausted. I think I'm coming down with a virus. Can we reschedule?"
"Of course. Do you want to let me know when you're feeling better?"
"Yes. Good plan."
"Okay. Have a safe flight and rest up well when you get home. If you need me to bring you anything, don't you dare hesitate to ask."
"I won't. Thank you."
She sounded so tired, he just wanted to wrap her up in his arms and let her fall asleep there, where she belonged. But they weren't exactly close enough yet for him to look after her when she was sick, and so he waited for her call.
And waited.
And waited.
She didn't reply to his texts. After several days he phoned Savannah, worried, who said she would investigate.
The following day, his phone rang.
"Olivia is still unwell," his friend said gently. "She doesn't want to see anyone right now."
"Can I send flowers? Make her soup? Anything?"
There was a long pause. "No, Fitz. I'm sorry."
The sympathy in her voice cut him wide open, and he knew - although he didn't understand why - that his fledgling relationship with Olivia was over.
It was late August when she finally got in touch again, one Thursday afternoon while he was working from home. He'd wandered aimlessly through the last two months, miserably trying to figure out what had gone wrong. Savannah gave him occasional updates on her health, saying she'd been admitted to hospital a couple of times, but she wouldn't tell him any more than that.
"She's very private," Savannah explained, and Fitz knew that to be true - but surely not around him? Not after their two amazing dates; their time apart chatting cross-country every night, texting constantly? He'd shared more of himself with her already than he had with all of his previous girlfriends - it was just natural, easy. He couldn't imagine hiding anything from her. And the fact that she had disappeared on him now, that she apparently didn't trust him enough to even say hello once in a while - well, it hurt. Maybe it was selfish of him to think so, maybe she really was too ill to even send a text, but he couldn't lie to himself.
Olivia Pope had broken his heart.
Seeing her name on his phone screen as it rang, he almost considered not answering. But then his thumb was swiping right before he really had chance to make a plan, to even contemplate what he might say to her.
Just like the first time he kissed her, the best things in life often happened purely on instinct.
"Hi," she whispered.
He swallowed. God, he'd missed her so much; worried about her so much. "Hi," he replied, just as quietly. A hundred different questions ran through his mind but none of them even came close to expressing the intricacies of how he was feeling; the millions of ways she made him feel.
The silence stretched on. It seemed to last an eternity. And then, eventually:
"Fitz… I have something I need to tell you. Can we meet?"
And, without his permission, his brain did the one calculation he'd forbidden it to do (too scary, too complicated; too hopeful): it was almost twelve weeks since they had slept together.
And he knew - instinctively - that Olivia Pope was expecting his child.
He was at her apartment within ten minutes. When she opened the door, he barely registered the cacophony of emotions in her dark eyes - fear, courage, relief -because his gaze was drawn straight to her abdomen.
Beneath her white t-shirt, it was already rounded.
"Wow."
Neither of them seemed to be breathing. Olivia waited for him to look into her eyes again and said softly: "There are two of them. Twins."
He didn't remember crossing the living room, sitting down beside her on the couch. Suddenly there was a picture of an ultrasound in his hands and two tiny little black-and-white shapes that looked very much like babies.
"That was my twelve week scan, last week. I know the timing doesn't seem to match up to the night we met - they dated it from my last period. But it was definitely you. There's been no one else."
He didn't speak. He had no idea what to say.
She took his hand. "Fitz, I am so sorry I kept this from you. I know it must be a huge shock - it was a shock to me too."
"I can imagine," he murmured. They'd used protection every time; what more could they have done?
"I was so unwell," she went on. "When I got back from Chicago, I started vomiting and I just didn't stop. For days. I eventually took myself to the hospital, and they did bloods and told me they'd test to see if I was pregnant. It didn't really register at first. I just wanted to stop feeling so terrible.
"So they gave me lots of different anti-sickness meds and IV fluids, and then eventually the doctor came and told me I was pregnant, and with such a high hormone level causing the hyperemesis it was likely there was more than one baby."
Fitz glanced up from the ultrasound picture where his gaze had been fixated while he listened to her story. She looked much younger than her thirty-six years: wide-eyed and still hardly able to believe what she was saying.
"I had to be admitted because I was so dehydrated, but they said it was probably too early to do a scan. So they got my vomiting under control and I came home, trying to figure out how to tell you - and then within a few days I was back in hospital. And that's what's been happening ever since, until earlier this week when I finally started to feel human again."
"Olivia…"
There was so much compassion in his voice, so much tenderness, that her eyes filled with tears.
"I'm okay," she breathed. "I'm fine. It's just… It's been really, really shit."
She exhaled a shaky laugh, looking up to the ceiling, composing herself. "Some days I could hardly get out of bed. I had to force myself to sip a glass of water, to eat a dry cracker. And those were the good days, when I wasn't in hospital. I kept thinking to myself, how are these babies surviving? I was barely surviving myself. But they did. Somehow, my body was enough for them."
"When did you find out… You know…"
He gestured to her abdomen, unable to vocalize such a foreign word. Fortunately, she got it.
"That it was twins? I had a scan around eight weeks. But I think somehow I already knew. That sounds crazy, right?"
He shrugged. Did it? Everything she'd just said sounded crazy. He didn't know how to judge it anymore.
"Look, Fitz… I am really sorry for the way this has played out. I wish I'd told you sooner, but I couldn't face it. I have never felt so physically and mentally exhausted in my life. I just… I had to focus on myself, on the babies."
"It's okay. I understand."
"Thank you."
There was an expectant pause. They both gazed at the image in his hands, lost in their own thoughts. Eventually Olivia spoke again, hesitantly: "What are you thinking?"
He put the piece of paper down on the coffee table and turned to her. "I'm trying to imagine what you've been going through, all alone. I get why you didn't tell me but I wish you had, because I could have helped. I would have looked after you."
"Fitz… we hardly know each other."
He frowned. "You're pregnant with my children." And then suddenly his eyes were wet, his throat constricting. "God. That sounds so weird."
"Doesn't it?" she agreed. "I'm still not used to it."
They both laughed, a brief reprieve from the weight of her revelation.
"What do you need?" he asked gently, sobering her instantly. "Or rather, what do you want? Tell me, and I'll do whatever I can to help you."
Her face blossomed with affection. "I'm… I'm not entirely sure. I want my children to know their father."
"So do I. I wouldn't dream of walking away."
"Thank you." She fell quiet for a moment. "I really liked you, Fitz. I mean, I still do." She smiled, embarrassed. "I loved our two dates. I felt like we connected."
"I felt that too."
He tried to remember meeting her - the magnetic pull which drew them together; the butterflies in his stomach each time he looked at her - but suddenly it seemed like a different life altogether. The Before-Olivia's-Phone-Call, and The After.
A father of twins.
What the fuck?
"But," Olivia was saying, "Obviously the babies are my top priority now. I need to focus my energy on them first and foremost."
"Of course."
"And I don't want to rush into something romantic and it all to end in tears, and awkwardness. We have to be friends, always. So whatever might happen between us, it has to happen slowly. It has to be carefully considered. I know that doesn't sound cute or sexy, but this is bigger than you and me."
He took hold of both her hands, enveloping them in his. "I know. I agree with you one hundred percent. And I really liked you too, Olivia. I really like you. I think you're so brave, to go through all of this alone."
"I wasn't alone. I had our babies for company."
He blinked. "Say that again."
She smiled. "Our babies."
Then she stood up; lifted her t-shirt, brought his palms to the swell of her belly.
"I haven't felt any movements yet. But sometimes I sit for hours with my hands just here, talking to them in my head. I already love them both so much. And I know you've barely had any time to get used to the idea, but I want you to love them too. Our babies."
Fitz drew her closer; kissed her bare skin, just below her navel. He couldn't speak because he'd cry, but gazing up into Olivia's eyes, he knew she could see exactly what he was feeling: that he already loved them more than anything else in the world.
He stayed for dinner that night. Before they started the preparations, she told him everything she could about the babies: that they were di-di twins (two placentas, two amniotic sacs) which meant they were at lower risk of complications; that they were likely fraternal (from two separate eggs), due to being di-di and her age and her genetics.
"My mom is a twin," she explained, "And her grandfather was too. I've read that fraternal twins often skip a generation, so it makes sense."
Fitz still thought it was magic. The mysteries of genetics - it blew his mind.
"So they're not identical?"
She shook her head. "It's really unlikely. There's a fifty percent chance they're a boy and a girl."
Just as he'd envisioned, for as long as he could remember.
"Did you always want children?" he asked, already sensing that he knew the answer.
"Yes," she confirmed. "Two, in fact. I always thought one of each would be nice."
"Same here."
Her lips curved, and so did his. Their first and best secret.
She glanced down at her little bump, running her hand back and forth there. "I wonder who you'll be," she murmured.
Fitz couldn't even begin to imagine. All of a sudden, the future seemed infinite in a way it never had before.
"I feel so lucky," Olivia said, gazing at him again. She was so open, so vulnerable. So perfect. "I used to constantly worry that I was running out of time, and then I'd get mad at myself because I have a great career and I hated that I felt like I needed a family to define me."
"Don't hate yourself for that. You can have both. You can be the best mom and still run the NYPD one day."
"Hmm." She pursed her lips adorably. "I don't know about that."
"I do."
She blushed, looking away.
"Speaking of work," he went on, smiling fondly at her, "What are you planning to do? If you don't mind me asking."
"Of course I don't. I went back on Tuesday. I'm still a bit nauseous in the mornings but I can manage it with an antiemetic. I told my boss, who is amazing. She put me on desk duty, didn't make a big deal of it. And I think I may have mentioned to you before that I'm moving to the training department in a few weeks, working with new recruits. So I won't be running my detective squad, won't be out in the field. I'll miss it, but I'm excited for a new challenge. Particularly as this one will be office-based, and soon I'm going to be the size of a small house."
Fitz absorbed her words, marveling at how well the timing had worked out. "Did any of your colleagues notice you're pregnant?"
"No. I wear plain clothes, so it wasn't too hard to hide under a loose shirt."
"Wait. Plain clothes? So I don't get to see you in uniform?"
She rolled her eyes, looking amused. "Really? You have cop fantasies? I thought you were cooler than that."
"I am cool. And I only have cop fantasies about you."
"Well, that's good to know."
She held his gaze, hers warm and full of humor, and Fitz was so glad they could still flirt, that their spark was still there. He would take it as slow as she needed but he still wanted to be in a relationship with this incredible woman - now more than ever before.
"So," she said eventually, briefly touching his knee with her hand as she went to stand up, "What shall we make for dinner? I'm afraid I'm pretty much vegetarian these days. The thought of meat makes me want to puke."
"That's okay," he replied. "I've been cutting down as well. Better for the environment, you know?"
"It sure is."
He watched as she stretched, taking in the shape of her body. She was thinner than the first time they met, except for the curve of her abdomen. And then it really hit him: he did that to her. He put two babies inside of her.
He was going to be a daddy.
Olivia caught him staring, caught what must have been his look of total shock, and everything about her softened. She perched on the edge of the coffee table, right in front of him, and squeezed his hands in hers.
"I know that feeling," she said, a smile lifting the corners of her lips. "I used to look in the mirror and see myself wearing the same expression you have right now. Your life has just changed forever. It takes time to sink in, believe me."
Fitz was desperately fighting back tears. Everything about this was suddenly overwhelming him. He wanted to try and explain all his thoughts, all the emotions fighting inside his chest, but he knew Olivia already understood. And so, his voice hoarse, he said the one thing at the very front of his mind; the thing he realized she might need to hear most of all.
"You are so beautiful."
She crumpled; fell apart. He pulled her into his arms and held her so tightly as she cried, there on her couch in the warmth of the early evening sun.
"I can't believe you've done this all alone so far," he murmured at length, rubbing soothing circles on her back.
She sniffed, wiping her cheeks. "It was really, really hard."
"I know. But I'm here now. I'm going to look after you. In fact, you're going to stay right here while I cook dinner and you're not going to lift a finger."
She gazed deep into his eyes, their faces inches apart. "Fitz-"
But he wouldn't let her protest.
"I'm serious, Olivia. From now on I'll be here for you any time, day or night. Whatever you need, I'm your man."
And just like that, he was.
They had dinner together the following night, too. Fitz brought over takeaway pizza and wouldn't take no for an answer, even as Olivia playfully tried to block him from coming through her front door.
"You'd better get used to this," he teased while they ate at the kitchen table.
"What, pizza every day?" she retorted. "I'll be enormous in no time."
He smirked at her, and she smirked back.
"Such a smart mouth, Livvie."
He had no idea why he changed her name like that, but it felt completely natural. She looked at him thoughtfully.
"I haven't been called Livvie since I was a kid."
"Sorry."
But the smile that spread across her lips, the way it brightened her eyes, revealed her true feelings. "Don't be. I like it."
His heart missed a beat. "Okay."
"Can I give you a nickname too?" she asked.
"No."
"Fitz, come on-"
"If you even try it, I'll confiscate this pizza."
He started to push the boxes away from her, towards the far end of the table, but she slammed her hand on them with a force that surprised him.
"Don't you dare steal food from a pregnant woman," she said seriously, and suddenly he saw the detective in her: that instant flip from good to bad cop. It might have intimidated a lesser man, but Fitz thought her fierceness was hot as hell.
"I starved for three months," she went on ominously, "And now I'm ravenous all the time."
He decided it was a good moment to reach into his backpack and bring out the cupcakes he'd bought from their local artisan bakery. There were four, each one hand-crafted and exquisitely decorated.
"For dessert," he said unnecessarily as her eyes widened.
"Are these from Chu Bakery?"
"Of course."
"Which flavors?"
"Lemon and white chocolate, cookies and cream, matcha and red velvet."
Olivia took the box from him. "Screw pizza. I'll have these for dinner instead."
Chuckling, Fitz drew the savory option towards him - but stopped when he noticed her hesitation. "You alright?"
"Maybe I will have both. If that's okay."
That was the first time he realized, with absolute certainty, that he would never be able to deny this woman anything.
"You can have whatever you want. You're growing two humans."
She smiled and reached for another slice of margherita. "Can I have that in writing?" she asked cheekily. "I suspect I'll need it in the months to come."
Fitz found a pen in his bag and wrote it on the pizza box lid. When they finally finished eating (he let Olivia have three of the cupcakes - and she ate at least half of his, too), she cut out his promise with scissors and taped it to the side of cabinet above the sink.
"I didn't know you were left-handed," she commented later, sitting beside him on the sofa as the sky grew dark outside. His right arm was draped around the back of her neck, his left palm on her abdomen beneath her hands. They'd ended up in this position without thinking, as if it was exactly where they both belonged.
"I guess there's a lot we don't know about each other," he murmured.
Olivia sighed, her head coming to rest against his shoulder. "We have time, though. Lots of time. I mean, as long as these two behave and don't arrive too early."
He brushed his thumb over her belly, kissed her hair. They were silent for a long time, absorbed by their own thoughts. There were so many uncertainties ahead; so much to learn, and he felt like he had no idea where to start. But one thing he knew for sure was that this was the adventure he'd always been waiting for, and everything else he'd ever done had already paled in comparison.
He was born to be a father. That need was in his bones.
And his entire future was now right here, inside the circle of his arms.
"Livvie?"
"Yes?"
"These last twenty-four hours have been… the best of my life."
"Mine too." She snuggled closer, squeezing his hand with both of hers.
"Thank you for including me in this," he said softly, his voice cracking with the emotion of it all.
He couldn't see her face but pictured her eyes closed, her lips lifting slightly at the corners. Peaceful, at last. "Thank you for being here."
Fitz couldn't get enough of her.
The very next morning, they met outside her Pilates studio after her class finished. It was a warm and breezy Saturday and he had to fight hard to resist the urge to hold her hand as they walked to brunch together. She looked amazing, wearing cropped black leggings and a pale pink top with a diamond shape cut out of the back. He wanted to press his lips to the gorgeous brown skin between her shoulder blades; to feel her tremble beneath his touch, just like she had on the night they met.
Fortunately, he was distracted from his growing desire by all the attention Olivia was getting from passing strangers. Women of all ages stopped them to comment on her pregnancy: everything from "You look glowing, honey," to "How far along are you? You must be exhausted, you poor thing."
Fitz was astonished. "Wow. New Yorkers actually talking to someone on the street?"
"I wish they wouldn't. And that old lady who touched my belly-"
She made a face.
"It is cute," Fitz said with a grin. "I hope you don't mind when I touch it?"
She looked at him, rolling her eyes but also adoring. "Of course not. You're their daddy."
They had a lovely date, sitting out front on the sidewalk beneath the shade of several large, leafy trees. "We're doing all this in the wrong order," Fitz commented at one point. "Sex on our first date, then coffee, then dinners this week - and now brunch. And I've already knocked you up twice."
"Twice?"
"I almost certainly fertilized two of your eggs. That counts as twice." He gave her a deliberately smug smile. "And that was despite me wearing condoms."
She laughed; stole a tomato from his plate with her fork. "Do you ever get the feeling some things are just meant to be?"
And he knew she was referring to the babies, but at that moment he felt something click into place in his heart; felt a warmth, a certainty, in his soul, as if suddenly a window had opened above him and sunlight was pouring through.
He was meant to be with this woman: to love and cherish her, to raise their children together, for the rest of his life.
He must have fallen quiet for an unusually long time, marveling at this revelation, because Olivia nudged his knee beneath the table, looking at him curiously. "You okay?"
And he wanted nothing more than to tell her, to confess, right here in this café - but their relationship happened at her pace, and he held his tongue.
"I'm great," he said with a genuine smile. He reached for her hand and didn't let go. "What shall we do for the rest of the day?"
TBC