Nothing but the sound of running water could be heard as Olivia stood under the shower spray, head bent as the water hit her shoulders running down her body to the bathroom floor, flowing away down the drain.
Looking at her hands, she noticed the wrinkles that told her it was way past time to turn off the water. But she lingered, turning around to let the hot spray hit other parts of her body, closing her eyes and letting the soothing sound envelop her, and letting the memories she had been suppressing come back.
Olivia smiles tiredly, picking up the last of the party hats, napkins and brightly colored paper cups, as she hears Peter's feet thumping quickly down the stairs. His footsteps slow down as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, and she feels his warmth even before he wraps his arms around her waist.
"She's out." He squeezes her, and pulls the bag she had been throwing the trash in out of her hand. "And we can finish this later."
Olivia leans back against his chest, letting him support her weight. In the excitement of turning three, Etta had jumped in their bed before six that morning.
"Now, we can go make her a little brother." He says before nuzzling her neck.
Olivia chuckles, "We're not making any more babies, Peter. Give it up."
"Why not?" He asks, stretching out his words like Etta does whenever they tell her she couldn't do or have something, "We're clearly great at it. Did you see that perfect little girl blowing the candles today?"
Olivia smiles and shakes her head, turning and wrapping her arms around his neck. He has his most charming grin on his face, the one he uses when he thinks he is being especially clever. His arms tighten around her waist, bringing her body closer to his.
"Three years, can you believe it?"
"I know… Where did time go? At this time three years ago, I was holding this perfect little baby that fit along my forearm, thinking how could she be so tiny and have such a big head."
Olivia rolls her eyes, but can't suppress her laugh. "Tell me about it."
Then, she stares into space, a small smile twitching the left side of her lips.
"Come on, you, of all people, should know how important having a sibling is."
"What do you know? You don't have any siblings." She says, lifting an eyebrow at him.
"Exactly," he nods once, "I know how awful that is. How inconvenient it is to be an only child when your father goes clinically insane, and you're the only next of kin available to help a beautiful blond get him out of a mental institution to help her save the world."
Olivia rolls her eyes, a full smile on her lips now, "I think it worked out quite well for you, Mr. Bishop."
"Well, there are exceptions, Mrs. Bishop." He grins again and places a soft kiss on her lips.
"Come on, she asked for it again. Did you see how good she was with the neighbors' little boy, giving him her doll when he was crying? I think she's going to be a great big sister." He kisses her again deeper this time, and moves his hand up from her waist towards her breast.
She pulls away from the kiss and rests her forehead against his, staring him in the eyes. Then, she kisses him again pushing their joined bodies over towards the stairs. Peter's muffled laugh echoing around the room.
Olivia bent over and slid down to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees and resting her forehead against them.
One month and five days later…
Her shoulders started shaking as she cried for the first time since that day at the park.
After a few minutes, she wiped her face, turned the shower off, and stepped out of the stall. She found the shirt Etta gave her to sleep in, and stared at gray fabric in her hand for a moment. She slid it over her head, noticing that it barely hit her thighs, and left the bathroom without looking at herself in the mirror. She closed the door slowly behind her; mindful of the people sleeping in the house and padded over in the dark to the bedroom she and Etta had been sharing with Astrid.
As she raised her hand to open the door, she stopped, turned around and walked over to living room where Peter lay sleeping on the couch, one arm above his head and the other hanging over the edge, his fingers touching the floor.
She quietly climbed on top of him ignoring the feeling of his body's startled first reaction to her. She didn't look at his face, but she was glad to feel him relax as she placed her body along his, resting her head on his chest. His arms enveloped hers, and she felt the warm pressure of his lips against her forehead, closing her eyes to the familiar feeling of safety and peace she had missed so much.
For twenty one years, two months and three days.