"Are you crazy?" I say once Fitz locks the door. "Giving me a note like that in front of Cyrus?"
"I didn't have a choice. I hadn't been alone with you all day."
"I had to make up something on the spot," I protest.
"Liv, you make up something on the spot all day long. It's called campaign management."
"That's not the point and you know it. Fitz, you're taking unnecessary risks."
"I disagree. I think you're a necessary risk."
This is getting us nowhere. I shake my head and then notice that the only light in the room is being generated by two tapered candles in silver holders on a round table next to the window. The table is dressed in peach-colored linen, and two covered dishes sit while wine chills in an ice bucket.
"Is this why you told me not to eat?"
"Uh huh." Fitz comes up behind me and wraps his arms around me, nuzzling my ear. All the anger I feel dissipates instantly. "I didn't want you to ruin your surprise."
"Fitz, it's beautiful."
"You're beautiful." He places a kiss at my temple. "Shall we sit?"
I nod and he leads to me the table, pulling out my chair. He then sits down across from me. "What's for dinner?"
"Chilean sea bass. One of your favorites, I believe."
I'm shocked. I'm sure I mentioned that in one of the many conversations we've had over the past few weeks but I didn't think it...mattered. "Yes."
"I pay attention." Fitz is smirking now, obviously very pleased with himself.
"I see."
"Wine?"
"Please." He proceeds to pour white wine into my glass and then his. "The hotel must've thought this was for you and Mellie." The words come out of my mouth before I realize I've said them. Something flickers in Fitz's eyes in response and he eases the bottle back in to the ice bucket.
"I told them it was for the woman I love," he answers firmly, looking directly at me. The intensity of his look almost makes me shrink in my seat.
"There's that word again," I whisper.
"What word?"
"Love. You said it last night, well, earlier this morning. You said it at the debate, that you were in love. I remember you looked straight at me after you said it, and I thought…I thought you meant you were in love with me. I thought I was hallucinating."
"And now you know you weren't. Do you want me to say it? Do you need me to say it?"
"Say what?"
"That I love you."
I sit silently for a moment. I don't know if I do or not. Because once he says it, it's real. "I've been thinking about this all day." Who's deflecting and re-phrasing now?
"About what?"
"Whether this is love or lust."
"Olivia, you're the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning and the last thing I think about at night. My day isn't complete until I've seen you, heard your voice, seen you smile. That's not lust." Fitz sighs and sits back in his chair. "I've been thinking about this all day. Doing something special for you. Wanting to show you how much I love you."
Tears well in my eyes at this latest revelation. That's happened a lot over the past 24 hours. I remember the well of my tears from last night on the bus when I touched his hand; tears from the fear and relief of knowing that he felt the same way about me as I did about him. I remember the well of my tears when he entered me for the first time and then again when I came, tears from the happiness of my body utterly and exquisitely surrounding him, from my heart bursting completely open.
He's right: that's not lust.
And he's right again: as much as I cursed him for pointing it out this morning, I haven't let anyone in in a very long time. I haven't depended on anyone, needed anyone, wanted anyone. Not like this. I can't help but feel this emotion. Fitz brings it out of me, in some inexplicable way.
"Do you want me to say it?" I ask finally. "Do you need me to say it?"
"No. I know. Eat. Your dinner's going to get cold."