She woke up early the next morning, but knew better than to go running. Seeing Oliver again so soon surely would've caused more harm than good. Plus, she had a mean hangover from the previous night and desperately needed a pain killer and some coffee. Sighing, Felicity rolled out bed and threw on her robe.

As she walked into the kitchen, she saw Mia sitting at the breakfast bar swirling her spoon around in her cereal. "Why are you up so early, sweetheart?"

Mia shrugged, "Couldn't go back to sleep."

Felicity squeezed her shoulders before making her way over to the coffee maker, "You want some?"

"Mom," Mia rolled her eyes, "I hate coffee."

"You're your father's daughter," Felicity mumbled absentmindedly, fumbling in the medicine cabinet for ibuprofen.

"But dad loves coffee?"

Shit. "You're right. I'm sorry honey, I must be losing my mind."

The two sat in silence while Felicity waited for her coffee to brew. Felicity studied the dark circles underneath her daughter's blue eyes. She looked exhausted.

"Are you okay, Mia? I know I haven't really been around much to talk about what happened, but if something is bothering you—."

"I'm fine, mom. Really."

Felicity opened her mouth to argue but a knock on the door interrupted her. She shot Mia an apologetic smile and softly caressed her cheek with the back of her hand, "Be right back."

She knew who it was without having to open the door. It was as if she could sense him from a mile away.

She inhaled a shaky breath and opened the front door, "Good morning, Oliver."

"I hope you didn't already make breakfast," he smiled, motioning to a box of donuts, "these are the best in town."

She couldn't help but grin at him, "Mia's been staring at the same bowl of cereal for the last fifteen minutes. Maybe you can get her to eat something." It suddenly dawned on her that Oliver would be meeting Mia, and dread coursed through her veins. "Actually," she stammered, "now might not be the best time to—."

"Please tell me one of those has sprinkles on it," a light voice called out behind them. Felicity watched with wide eyes as Mia bounced towards Oliver holding out her hand, "Hi! I'm Mia."

Oliver's eyes went from Mia to Felicity then back to Mia again. A mixture of shock, confusion, pain, anger, hurt, and amazement flitted across his features. Felicity had to look away.

"Half a dozen with sprinkles and the other half is chocolate glazed," he stared at her little hand in his as he shook it, "it's nice to finally meet you, Mia, I'm Oliver Queen."

She smiled awkwardly as she took the box from him, "I'm sorry, am I supposed to know you?"

"He's an old friend from high school," Felicity blurted out, "he lives a few streets down."
They followed Mia into the kitchen and watched in silence as she placed a donut on a plate.

"Are you guys going to eat anything? Or do you just want to stare at me while I do? There's a pot of coffee ready if you'd like some, Mr. Queen."

"Oh no thank you," he shook his head, "I hate coffee."

Felicity searched the room for the nearest wall she could slam her head against. Oliver shot her daggers in-between bites of his donut. Mia was clearly feeling the tension but knew better than to ask about it. Finally she excused herself from the table, "I have to go get ready for school. Thanks for the donuts, Mr. Queen! It was nice to meet you!"

"Please, call me Oliver," he told her, "and it was my pleasure."

They both listened as her footsteps began to fade up the stairs, entering her bedroom and closing the door behind her.

"Sweet little girl," Oliver noted, calmly. "She she looks a lot like you. She has your nose, your lips, even your hair."

Felicity nodded, "My mom says she looks exactly like I did at her age."

"She does. I remember you looking just like that."

She waited for him to continue. Here it comes. Here it comes. Here it comes.

"But you know what's strange?" He wondered aloud, stroking his chin, "She doesn't have your eyes."

No, she doesn't.

"Now I never really spent a lot of time around Ray, but I remember him having brown eyes."

She gulped.

"She's got the eyes of a Queen."

Felicity hadn't realized she had backed herself against a wall until she felt herself sliding down it. The anger and betrayal in Oliver's voice and on his face made her stomach twist in crippling knots. "Oliver, you have to understand."

"Understand what?" He snapped, "That I have a daughter and you kept her from me for fourteen years? That you let another man raise her and never stopped to think that maybe I would've wanted the chance to do that? Jesus Christ, Felicity. I should've been there for you! I should've been there for her!"

"It was too much of a responsibility, Oliver," she cried, "you weren't ready! It took you years to get your shit together, Ollie! I only had nine months!"

She was standing by the bathroom counter waiting for the longest five minutes of her life to be over. "I am not pregnant. I am not pregnant. I am not pregnant," she chanted to herself. But her period was two weeks late and she had puked twice that morning — which could've been a really crazy coincidence, but at this rate she wasn't too optimistic. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead, her hands unconsciously resting on her flat stomach. What if there really was a baby in there? What would she do? Would she tell Oliver? No, that would completely ruin his life. He wasn't ready for a baby. Hell, it wasn't like she was ready for a baby either. But Oliver would panic. His parents would probably hate her. The media would torture him. And her. And their baby. She would have to get out of Starling and get away from him and his spotlight. She could do that. She could lose him if it meant he would have a better life and their baby would have a better life as well. She would tell Ray it was his. Ray would marry her in heartbeat: he was just that type of guy.

The alarm rang and Felicity held her breath as she reached for the stick. Positive. She was pregnant. Hot tears pooled in her eyes and streaked down her cheeks. She wanted Oliver. She wanted him to hold her and rub her back and promise that he would massage her swollen feet and kiss her belly. She wanted him to tell her that everything would be okay. She wanted him to want her the way she wanted him.

But that would never happen. Their own baby was conceived in a spontaneous night of lust, not love. Oliver wouldn't whisk her off into the sunset and probably would run the opposite direction from a baby at eighteen. He wasn't ready. So she had to be.

"That doesn't justify you hiding her from me, 'Lis. She's my child. I would've gotten it together for her, for you!"

"I didn't want you to have to sacrifice anything for me," she sniffled, staring down at the floor, "it was just a hook-up. There weren't supposed to be strings attached."

"You're going to sit here and tell me that our night together was just a hook-up?" He scoffed, "I made love to you, Felicity. I thought we had finally stopped fighting our feelings. I thought things were going to change for us after that night!"

His hands untangled themselves from her hair and tugged at the hem of her shirt. "Off," he murmured against her skin.

She lifted her arms and let her slip the top off, staring at him with wide eyes. Oliver had been with so many girls — so many beautiful and exotic girls — that she couldn't help but feel self conscience. But his wild eyes roamed her body in appreciation, a small smile playing at his lips, "God, you're beautiful, "Lis."

"I was with Ray, Oliver. And you were sleeping with half of our school, so really I was just another number in your body count. Ray was constant and reliable and I knew where I stood with him. You were miles out of my league and there was nothing about me that was strong enough to hold you there. I didn't want to play games, Oliver. I was head-over-heels in love with you, but I wasn't going to go around in circles with you."

Her fingernails raked gently across his bare chest as he nipped at her neck, "Beautiful, huh? Normally I get geeky or awkward. Well, I take that back. My grandmother says I'm the prettiest out of the three grandkids."

"Felicity," he chuckled, his finger skimming the edge of her underwear, "now isn't the best time to start babbling."

"You were in love with me?" Oliver asked, interrupting the steamy memory, "You were in love with me and you never thought to tell me?"

"It was a line I didn't want to cross. You were my best friend, Oliver. Some things are just better left unsaid."

"For someone so smart you really are oblivious to the most obvious things, Felicity. I think I've been in love with you since the moment you threw a math book at me when I asked you to do my homework for me in seventh grade."

She stared at him in shock, blinking as she tried to process everything. As nice as it was hearing those words out of his mouth, it really didn't change anything.

Too little, too late.

"I'm sorry about Mia, Oliver. I shouldn't have kept her from you. If you don't completely hate me by now, you're welcome to spend time with her. But please, please, please don't tell her yet. She isn't handling the divorce very well and I don't want to overwhelm her. Ray is the only father she has ever known." She watched his jaw tighten at the last part.

"And where does this leave us?" He asked, abandoning his seat at the breakfast bar to come help her off the ground, "We have a child together."

"What do you mean? We're friends if you'd like to be."
"And what if I don't want to be?" He challenged, stepping towards her. She stepped back, only to have her back hit the wall.

"I wouldn't blame you," she accepted, painfully aware of how close they were.

He lifted his hand and cupped her cheek, "Do you still love me, Felicity?"

It was a question that completely threw her off guard. Was she still in love with him? It had been years since they had been close, but she knew by the desire swirling in her soul that those feelings had never faded.

"Wh-what about Laurel?" She stammered, trying to push him away.

"Do you still love me, Felicity?" He repeated, ignoring her question.

"Oliver, please."

"Felicity."

Maybe it was the fact that he was wearing a V-neck that clung to him in all the right places, maybe it was the fact that he had her pressed up against a wall with one hand on her face and the other trailing her thigh, or maybe it was the fact that she was losing her mind. Either way Felicity found herself running her fingers through Oliver's short hair, her tongue tangled with his as they clung onto each other for dear life.

"I never stopped loving you," he mumbled into her neck, "I probably never will."

"Oliver," she sighed, "I can't."
"Shh, it's okay," he soothed her, "You don't have to say it, Felicity. I already know."