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Chapter 15: How Has That Been Enough For You?
It's late when Fitz arrives at his father's bedside, although it feels even later to him, having crossed the country. Fortunately, the ICU doesn't limit visiting hours.
Unfortunately, the horrible image that entered his mind as soon as Marilyn first texted him is right here in front of his eyes: his dad looks older than he's ever seen him, and suddenly frail - like he's aged twenty years in the space of a single day.
"Don't tell me, son - I look like shit."
The same blue eyes Fitz sees in every mirror are now gazing at him, and he's relieved to notice some sparkle still remains there. "Hi Dad."
He doesn't trust himself to say anything else - he's too overwhelmed by the monitors, by all the wires crisscrossing his father's body, tying him to the machines which surround his bed. There's a line entering the side of his neck which has five separate infusions running through it: three are clear, one is blood and the last is something yellow which makes Fitz feel slightly nauseous.
"It's okay," says his nurse, Jackie, who introduced herself just outside the room when he arrived and warned him to expect medical paraphernalia and little conversation from her unwell patient. "He's doing just fine, aren't you Jerry?"
"I'll be back on the golf course tomorrow, don't you worry."
She smiles at him. "Maybe not tomorrow, but that spirit will get you there a lot sooner. Here, Fitz, have a seat."
"Thank you." He takes the chair she offers, setting it down at the side of the bed. Instinctively he covers his father's hand with his own, which is reassuringly warm. It's the first time they've held hands since he was a child and he's surprised how comfortable it feels to be the one supporting his father now, and not the other way around.
"You didn't have to come all this way," Jerry says. He sounds exhausted.
"Of course I did."
His father's fingers twitch beneath his. "Thank you. It's good to see you."
"You too, Dad."
It's only a few sentences but this is probably the most honest, emotive conversation they've had in years. Jerry's eyes close, his breathing deep and even. Fitz watches him for a while, thinking he's fallen asleep, and it dawns on him: his father is getting old. He's no longer immune to all of the illnesses that young people just shrug off with a nonchalant 'I'll worry about that when I'm older.'
Big Jerry's older is now.
He's only seventy-four - not even classed as geriatric yet - but his body isn't what it used to be; today has proved that beyond a doubt. And along with this realization comes several others: that he himself is getting older too; that Jerry won't be able to run around with his grandchildren the same way he did with Fitz when he was young; that one day, he will have lost both his parents and be left alone in the world.
"I love you, Dad."
The words are out there before he's even consciously thought them, drawn from somewhere deeper within him; somewhere finally disinhibited by this hospital room, this sinking sadness and rising tide of regret. They've missed out on so much together; they barely even know one another anymore.
"I love you too, Fitz."
He wasn't expecting a reply, but his father's eyes are open again and shining with all the same emotions he's experiencing. It's been decades since either of them have uttered those words and they both smile.
"You should get some sleep," Fitz says, changing the subject before the moment starts to become awkward. This is strange, unchartered territory for them both. "I'll come back tomorrow morning."
"Okay. Marilyn's staying over at the house, she'll let you in."
"I know, I spoke to her when I landed. She's amazing."
"She sure is."
Fitz stands, letting go of his father's hand. "Why haven't you married her yet?" he asks, and not for the first time.
As usual, Big Jerry evades the question. He closes his eyes and turns his head away slightly, although his smile remains. "Goodnight, son."
"Night Dad."
Outside the room, Fitz speaks to his father's doctor. "How is he doing?"
"Really well," Dr Miller replies. She looks to be around Fitz's age and he detects a South African accent. "His body seems to have avoided major damage but his kidneys have taken a small hit from the low blood pressure caused by the bleeding. They should improve over the next few days. Fortunately he was fit and well to start with, which is a huge advantage when something like this happens."
"Yeah." He takes a moment to process what she's said. "So how long will he be here for?"
"Oh, I expect he'll be discharged to the ward in the morning. He'll need to stay on the infusion of acid-suppressing medication for forty-eight hours but if his blood tests have normalized and there are no signs of re-bleeding, he should be able to go home after that. He'll need to rest for a few weeks and complete a month's course of antibiotics."
It seems incredible to Fitz that someone can lose half their blood and be well enough to go home a few days later. Still, he's so glad his father will be able to attend the gala - as long as he promises to take it easy. He smiles and shakes Dr Miller's hand. "Thank you so much for looking after him, Doctor."
"It's no problem at all."
He texts Olivia on his way out of the hospital, letting her know that his dad is okay. He'd love to speak to her, to hear her voice, but she'll be asleep and he won't wake her again in the middle of the night like he did from Oxford - even though that phone call had a sensational ending. He drives his hire car to the ranch, his childhood home, and after a very brief chat with Marilyn, climbs the stairs to his former bedroom. It looks nothing like it did when he was a teenager - the whole house has been redesigned since then - but it's comforting to be here nonetheless.
There's a photograph of him and his mom on the dresser. He's ten years old and they're on holiday in Hawaii, both suntanned and showing off identical smiles. Fitz holds it in his right hand as he brushes his teeth and finds himself wishing that she was still here with him. He would love for her to meet Olivia. They'd get along so well: both so stylish, so smart, and with the same passion for improving the lives of others. He pictures his beloved mom holding her first grandchild on her lap - a beautiful, brown-skinned toddler who looks far more like Olivia than him - and for a moment the image is so real that he believes it could actually happen one day.
By the time he's climbed into bed, however, he's back in reality: there's only him and his dad left now. When he tries to imagine the same scene with Big Jerry in the picture, he just can't. And it hits him then, after everything that's happened today and the huge influence Olivia has already had on his life, that he needs to make amends with his father; that he wants them to be a family again. He's gotten so used to their formal relationship, their sporadic contact and nothing more than an email on birthdays, that it's become their normal.
But he wants to see more of his dad; to be able to talk to him, to confide in him. He wants his children to love their grandfather the way Fitz loved his. His mother's death should have drawn them closer together but it just tore them apart - and that, as he's always known but managed to suppress for twenty years, is just the greatest shame.
There will always be things about his father that he dislikes, not least his numerous infidelities and his bullying attitude towards Fitz when he was young. But it feels like this is their opportunity to finally address the issues between them.
It feels like the time has come to forgive and forget.
Fitz brings his dad home from hospital on Wednesday evening. He's weak and very tired but otherwise back in his usual spirits - namely, flirting with every female from the medical students to the elderly volunteers who bring around the newspaper trolley. It's a habit which has always grated on Fitz but now, since his decision to try and be more understanding of his father, he can see that it's harmless; that the women aren't offended, even the ones young enough to be his grandchildren. In fact, most of them laugh and leave the room with smiles on their faces.
The Grant family charm.
They haven't had any further frank discussions since the Fitz's first visit. It didn't seem fair to unload all his emotions onto his father when he was still recuperating from his near-death experience; still sleeping most of the day. Marilyn stays by his bedside most of the time, reading Gabriel García Márquez or rearranging Jerry's schedule via email on her Macbook. She's a beautiful woman, her gray-blonde hair cut into a bob, her face always flawlessly made up. She looks much younger than her sixty-something years: it's the way she holds herself, the fire in her blue eyes. Fitz wonders how she ended up a politician's assistant when she's clearly very intelligent. He's longed to ask her for so many years but they're not exactly close, even though she's usually the one he speaks to whenever he tries to get hold of his father.
Olivia calls frequently, often for a quick hello between meetings or a longer chat during her evenings. He's missing her terribly: there's something about being back at the ranch, about bonding with his dad again over the news or the stock market (baby steps), that makes him long for her to be by his side. He's trying to play happy families but there's a vital piece of the puzzle missing.
Jerry asks after Mellie on his second day in hospital and Fitz automatically gives the usual spiel: "She's fine. Working a lot, as usual." Then he realizes he should call her, let her know that her father-in-law is unwell. They've always been fond of each other; in fact, their close relationship used to piss him off, to make him jealous.
"Mel, it's me," he says when she picks up the phone, standing in the empty kitchen back at the house. "How are you?"
"Fine. Working a lot."
He can't help but smile. "Listen, I just wanted to let you know that my dad's in hospital. He had a bleeding stomach ulcer but he's fixed up now and doing well."
Her tone changes; becomes softer. "Oh. I'm sorry to hear that, Fitz." He can tell she's being sincere. "What caused it?"
"Painkillers he was taking for his knee, apparently."
She sighs. "We'd been telling him for years to get that seen to."
"Yes, but you know what he's like."
"I do."
There's a comfortable pause. No matter that he's fallen in love with someone else: there are certain things, certain experiences, which will always bond Mellie and him together.
"Are you in California? Will you give him my love?" she asks.
"I am, and of course I will."
"Thank you."
"No problem."
He's about to hang up when she speaks again. "Have you told him yet? About us?"
"No, not yet. He's been through a lot, you know?"
She's quiet for several seconds - long enough for Fitz to worry that she's getting the wrong idea. "I will tell him," he says hurriedly. "He should be coming home tomorrow; I'll let him know then."
Mellie sighs. Was she holding onto hope? His heart begins to sink. "My lawyers received the initial papers from yours. Jemima King - good choice. She's exceptional."
He doesn't respond. What is she thinking?
"You cleared out the house," she goes on. "I thought we'd been robbed when I got home. You could have told me."
"I'm sorry," he says automatically, but he's frowning. She sounds confused, like she doesn't understand why these things have happened. Has he not been clear enough? "Look, Mel, I want a divorce, and I'd like it to happen quickly and quietly. Let's just draw a line under this marriage so we can both move on. Isn't that what you want, too?"
"I guess so. I just… thought you might change your mind." It must be the week for honesty because he's never heard her sound so vulnerable before. He barely even knows this woman anymore and here she is, revealing her greatest weakness: the hope that her husband might still love her enough to stay.
It's so intimate that he feels suddenly awkward. "I won't," he says gently, wanting to spare her feelings even further and at the same time, desperate to end this conversation and never think about it again. "It's been over for a long time for me. We don't make each other happy, Mellie."
"How many people do we know who are happily married?" She's exasperated now, trying to hide her embarrassment. "I can't think of anyone! Marriages aren't supposed to be happy, Fitz. They're not easy. People pretend; they lie all the time. That's the way it works."
"What?" He's so shocked he has to sit down at the kitchen table. "Did I do this to you? Did I make you feel like this? If I did, I'm so sorry. But I don't want a pretend marriage."
She doesn't speak for a while; when she does, her barriers are back up. "You've always been such an idealist. I used to find it endearing, but now… Well, I hope it gets you what you want."
Fitz isn't sure whether to take offence or to thank her. It doesn't even matter, really: he's already found the one person who will make him happy for the rest of his days. "I suppose I'll see you in the next few weeks with our lawyers?"
"Yes."
He sighs. "Take care, Mel."
"Goodbye, Fitz."
His forehead sinks down onto the table and he stays there awhile, running over their conversation until he has a headache. It still doesn't make sense: how can she want to stay married to him after they've done nothing but grow further apart? How is he enough for her now? She's never known love like the love he shares with Olivia - instant, all-consuming and forever - and he feels guilty that he couldn't be the one to show her what it feels like. But they just weren't meant to be, and the sooner they're divorced, the sooner she will have chance to go out and find real love.
And the sooner he can settle down into life with his Livvie.
He's busy all week, helping with preparations for the gala and keeping in regular contact with Cyrus. His father, only recently retired from the Senate, is as popular as ever: there are so many bunches of flowers in the house that Marilyn and Betty, his housekeeper, are running out of surfaces to put them on. Every few hours someone else drops by to see how he's doing, usually staying for a while. Fitz knows most of them, old friends and colleagues, and he finds he enjoys catching up and witnessing his father playing the host, despite the fact he's clearly exhausted. It's very impressive.
The two of them are definitely getting along better. Fitz hasn't yet told his father about the divorce - it just hasn't come up in conversation - but he discovers he is sharing more and more about his projects, his business and his trip to London. In return, Jerry is clearly interested and offers advice whenever Fitz questions something out loud. It's the closest they've felt to one another in years and when he tells Olivia this on the phone one afternoon, she's so pleased for him that he has trouble containing his emotions.
"That's amazing, Fitzy. You sound so happy."
"I am." He's grinning like an idiot, alone on the porch after all the contractors for the gala have gone home for the day, but he doesn't care. "I feel like we've missed out on so much of each other's lives. It's just sad that it's taken him almost dying for us to reconnect."
"Better late than not at all," she reasons. "What else have you talked about?"
It takes Fitz several minutes of general chit-chat to realize that what she really wants to know is whether or not he's told his dad about them. And he doesn't think she would be very happy to hear that he's currently still pretending to be married, so he steers the conversation back to her - with a lot of guilt, and the silent assertion that he will reveal the truth at the next possible opportunity.
"How are your birthday plans coming along?"
"Great," she says, and he thinks maybe she's a little bit annoyed - or maybe he's just imagining it. "Abby's taking me for a Champagne breakfast followed by shopping before I meet my dad for lunch at Eleven Madison Park."
"Wow."
"I know. He booked it months ago. Then I'm spending the afternoon with the girls getting pampered and made up before we go out for dinner."
He smiles. "Sounds like you won't even have time to miss me."
"That was the idea."
He can picture the look on her face - defying him to call her out for being so needy - and it makes him long for her so fiercely he feels it as a physical force on his body, squeezing him like a vice.
"I really miss you," he sighs.
"I really miss you too."
"Maybe I should fly home…"
"As much as I would love you to," she says softly, "You need this time with your dad. I'm not going anywhere. I'll always be here, waiting for you."
He closes his eyes and lets her words warm him from head to toe. She is just… everything. "Do you know how sweet you are?"
"No," she says cutely. "Tell me."
"You're so sweet I want to lick you all over."
She giggles. "That sounds dirty."
"It was meant to."
"Fitz!"
"What?"
They're both smiling: he can hear it all the way from New York City. "I can't wait to see you," she admits.
"Not long now, baby."
"And then no more trips away for a while, okay?"
"Okay," he agrees. She really is adorable.
"I should go get ready for my spinning class. Abby will be pissed if I'm late."
"Call me later?"
"Aw, don't you have anything better to do?" she teases.
"In a word… no."
"Fine," she laughs, "I'll call you. But only because you're desperate."
"And because you like me."
"Meh. You're alright."
Fitz grins. "I'll take that. Speak to you later, beautiful."
"Bye."
He ends the call and leans back in his chair, enjoying the late afternoon sun on his skin and the even greater glow Olivia gives him. But it's just seconds before he hears his father's voice: "When is Mellie's birthday, again?"
Fitz looks around to see Jerry walking slowly across the porch towards him. "July thirteenth. Why?"
His father doesn't reply until he's seated in the wicker chair next to Fitz's. "Seems a bit early for her to be organizing a party, doesn't it?"
Fitz gapes at him. "You were eavesdropping on my conversation?"
"Overhearing," he counters, waving his hand dismissively. This is the arrogant attitude Fitz has always hated. "It's different."
"Right. And how much did you hear, exactly?"
"Enough." Jerry is gazing at him as if he's never seen him before. "I have to say, son, I thought you were better than this."
It's as if the past few days of peacemaking have never happened. "Me?" Fitz is suddenly so angry it's difficult to stay seated. "What about you?"
"Oh, I'm a lost cause," his father admits. "But I always hoped you wouldn't follow in my footsteps. Who is she?"
"Who?"
"Don't play dumb with me, Fitzgerald. That wasn't your wife on the phone. I rarely see you but I know you never speak to her like that."
Fitz is on his feet and pacing without even realizing it, but Jerry keeps talking regardless. To be judged by this man - this man who broke his mother's heart time and time again - is so ridiculous it's almost laughable. "How dare you?" he asks quietly. All the bitterness and resentment he's been storing up for the last forty years has suddenly risen inside of him: it turns out such deeply-etched scars can't be healed through a few days of polite conversation. "You know nothing about my life. If you'd ever had any interest in me, you'd know that Mellie and I haven't been happy together for years. You'd know that I left her almost two months ago, weeks before I met… someone else."
He doesn't want to give his dad Olivia's name; doesn't want to give him the satisfaction, nor the ammunition. And now that he's started this tirade, now that his wounds are open, he can't seem to stop himself from continuing. "I am nothing like you, Dad. I haven't deceived my wife; we don't have any children to fuck up for the rest of their lives."
Jerry flinches. "You think I fucked you up?" he asks, his voice quiet now. His expression is a mixture of surprise and hurt: it would be difficult to look at if Fitz wasn't so blinded by rage.
"You certainly tried!" he yells. "You set possibly the worst example a father can to his son: do whatever you like, take whatever you want from anybody, no matter who gets hurt. Well, thank god for Mom, because without her and my own efforts trying to be anything other than you, I hate to think who I'd have become. If we're so different, so estranged, it's because I've worked hard every single day to be the opposite of everything you are."
The fury is subsiding; he's becoming more aware of the look of horror on Jerry's face. "Sit down, son. Please."
He's wary; suddenly a young child again, afraid of the seriousness of his dad's tone. He takes a seat but right on the edge, unable to relax.
"I am sorry, Fitz. Really, truly sorry." He looks as broken as he did in his bed in the ICU. "I honestly didn't know you felt that way."
Fitz's skepticism must be obvious because Jerry continues quickly: "That sounds unbelievable, doesn't it? But I didn't. You've always been so independent, so successful on your own. I was pleased you weren't like me; that you inherited all of your mother's best qualities. As long as you seemed happy, it was easy for me to pretend that I'd been a good father - even though I knew I hadn't."
He's leaning forward now and the tears in his eyes are just unbearable to witness. "I had no idea you hated me quite so much, though. That hurts. It… really hurts."
Fitz finds that he's having to blink back his own tears. This is the most difficult conversation he's ever had. "I don't hate you. Not anymore," he says, trying hard to keep his voice even. He longs to break eye contact, to avoid the pain in his father's gaze, but he knows this is too important. "I did, for a long time. I hated you for what you did to Mom."
"What changed?"
"I don't know. Distance. Time." He shrugs. "Now I just want to understand why you did it, and why she stayed."
His dad is silent for a while, gazing out over the countryside as he thinks about his words. "I was selfish," he says eventually, looking back at Fitz. "You were right about me: I did what I wanted. I thought I was above reproach. I never loved any of those other women; it was just sex. But your mother… she was the love of my life." His voice has become thicker; there are tears on his cheeks now. "She was everything. And if I could take it all back I would, in a heartbeat."
It's difficult to see his father like this but they can't stop now, not when they've come so far. This is the very center of their bad relationship and it can't be left to rot any longer. "Why didn't she leave you?"
"Because she loved you! She would never have left you, and she knew I would never let her take you away. She fought like hell against her illness to stay with you, Fitz. Like hell, day after day, for nearly two years. She lived eighteen months longer than her doctors predicted - for you."
He has never heard those words before and they break him: completely and utterly rip him apart. He covers his face with his hands as he sobs, missing his mother more acutely than he has since those first few, dreadful months after she passed away. Listening to his father speak about her, hearing how much she loved him, is as wonderful as it is heartbreaking.
He feels a hand on his shoulder which he covers with his own as he fights to control himself. Allison Attaway's only husband and son are finally united in their grief - only twenty-three years too late.
"She would never have fought for me like that," Jerry manages to say through his own tears. "I destroyed her and I regret that every single day. Your mother was the greatest thing that ever happened to me, and she gave me you, and I know that I don't deserve either of you. I was wrong earlier: you're a far better man than I will ever be, son."
Fitz stands and pulls his father to his feet, hugging him tightly. They're the same height but he feels small again, craving the comfort of his parent. They stay like this for several long moments until he draws away, sniffing and wiping his eyes. Jerry looked as wrecked as he feels and they share an embarrassed smile.
"I bet she's laughing at us right now," Fitz says fondly, gazing skywards.
"I bet she's proud," Jerry corrects, making his son look back at him. Has he always been so profound, and Fitz just hasn't realized because he's been so busy trying to distance himself? "Do you mind making us a cup of tea?"
"I was thinking more along the lines of whiskey."
"Good idea."
He visits the bathroom first, to blow his nose and splash cold water on his face. His heart is still racing after all the revelations, all the emotions of the last half hour. He can't remember the last time he cried like this, and he doesn't think he's ever seen his dad break down - not even when his mom died. He heard him of course, locked away in his study at night, but he's never witnessed it in person. It's both harrowing and reassuring: it's okay for grown men to cry sometimes, when they love someone more than they can bear. It's okay to admit that love makes them weak.
When he returns from the library, where all the best alcohol is kept, his dad is sitting at the kitchen table.
"Thank you," he says hoarsely. When he reaches for the glass his hand is shaking.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine." He takes a long drink. "Just tired."
Fitz studies him for a minute. "I never knew Mom's prognosis was so bad."
Jerry returns his gaze. "Would you have wanted to know, at that age?"
He considers. "No, probably not. But you could have told me afterwards."
"There are a lot of things I could have done afterwards; things I should have done. I should have been strong for you, Fitz, because you needed me. I should have talked to you; we should have shared what we were feeling." He looks sadly at his son. "I could spend the rest of my time on this planet apologizing to you for all my failings. I will, if that's what you need to hear. I am truly, truly sorry. And I am unendingly proud of you, for everything you've done."
He raises his glass and Fitz lifts his too, overcome with affection for his dad. "If you make me cry again I'm never coming back to visit," he jokes.
"That's a shame, because I want to meet this new lady of yours one day. I want you to bring my grandbabies to stay."
Fitz almost chokes on his whiskey. "What?"
Jerry laughs, tipping his head back. "Don't look so surprised, boy. I've been hearing you on the phone all week. I assumed you were talking to Mellie until today, but it all makes perfect sense now. You're in deep with this girl, aren't you? You don't sound like that over just anybody."
"Sound like what?" he frowns. He feels like a teenager being interrogated by his older, wiser and very amused father.
"I'm not going to do an impression. I can't mimic your East Coast accent, for a start."
"I don't have an East Coast accent."
"You do."
They stare each other out until Fitz grins and looks away. "Aha!" Jerry exclaims. "I can still beat you after all these years."
"Shut up."
"Don't tell your father to shut up."
He scowls, playing the childish role just as expected. His dad sips his drink, smiling to himself. "So, are you getting a divorce?" he asks after a moment.
"Yes. We should be meeting with our lawyers in the next few weeks."
"And how does Mellie feel about all this?"
Fitz wonders whether to be completely honest, then decides that's going to be his only policy with his father from now on. "She was okay to start with, but I spoke to her on Tuesday and she seemed to think I might have changed my mind. Apparently most marriages are loveless and everyone is just pretending?"
Jerry shrugs. "I know a lot of marriages which are exactly like that. Toby and Jennifer Carlton; Roy and Lavinia Browne; Bill and Evelyn Meyers."
"Bill and Evelyn?" Fitz is surprised. Bill is the same guy he met at the conference in London - the one who looked at him suspiciously when he was staring at Olivia. "They've always seemed genuinely happy."
"Nope. Bill has all the same flaws I used to have, and Evelyn is just as bad. She tried to seduce me at their Christmas Eve dinner a few years back - in her own house."
"Wow." Fitz tucks this piece of information away in case he needs to defend himself against any accusations over the next few months - until he's a free man. "Well, we haven't been happy together for years."
"And this new girl - she makes you happy?"
"Her name is Olivia and yes, she does. I'd marry her tomorrow if I could." He can't stop himself from beaming and he's not embarrassed. "And what about Marilyn?"
Now it's Jerry's turn to look surprised. "What about her?"
"Come on, Dad. You two have been together for so long now. Why haven't you made it official?" He stays silent, gazing into the bottom of his glass. "It's okay, you know," Fitz presses. "To love her. Mom won't mind."
Their eyes meet again. "She's far more than I'll ever deserve. I just try to make her happy, after failing my own family for such a long time."
"She saved your life on Monday."
"She's been saving my life every day for the last twenty years." He sighs as he slowly gets to his feet. "I need to have a lie down. All this emotion is too much for an old man."
"You're not an old man yet."
"I feel like one." He ruffles Fitz's hair as he passes, making him smile.
"Dad?"
He turns. "Yes?"
"I'm so glad we talked."
"So am I, son. It took us far too long. I won't let that happen again."
Neither will I, Fitz vows after he's gone upstairs. And then he realizes that he, too, needs to lie down to process every incredible piece of information he has just heard, and the fact that the feud he has had with his father for most of his life might have finally ended for good.
They are so busy on Friday that there's no time for any more in depth conversations - something both Grant men are glad about, given their emotional exhaustion from the previous day. The entire front lawn of the ranch is buzzing with people, putting up tables in the center and small marquees around the perimeter which will host a variety of different chefs and bars. To the left of the house is a stage where technicians are setting up equipment; Rod Stewart is due at three for a sound check.
Fitz speaks to Olivia on FaceTime in the afternoon, giving her a very short version of his reconciliation with his father. He can't bear to go through the details again - not so soon. "I told him about you," he says, leaning against the back wall of the house. It's another hot day and he's sweating through his t-shirt. "Just your first name, and the fact that I think you're pretty damn special. He said he wants me to bring you to meet him."
She can't hide her joy: it obviously means a lot to her that he's shared their relationship with his dad. "That's exciting. I'd love to visit your childhood home one day. It looks stunning."
Fitz has been sending her photos of the ranch, of his favorite places within the grounds, of the spectacular sunsets. "It is. I'd love to live in the country again one day."
"In Vermont, right?"
"You remembered."
She shrugs, smiling cutely. "Of course. Because you like apples."
"Not as much as I like you."
"Well, obviously."
He's never wanted to kiss her so badly before. "Happy Birthday Eve, Livvie."
She giggles. "Is that a thing?"
"It is now."
"Well in that case, thank you very much."
Fitz smiles and absentmindedly runs a hand through his hair. "I wish I could see you tomorrow."
"I wish you could too, especially when you look like that."
"Like what?" He glances down at himself.
"All hot and glistening in that tight t-shirt."
He flexes his bicep for her and she laughs loudly, disappearing from the screen for a moment. "Oh Fitz," she sighs happily. "You're so silly."
"Oh. I was hoping for 'sexy', or maybe 'ripped'."
"It's okay. Silly is good. My favorite thing about you is the way you make me laugh all the time." He's never heard her say that before and it makes him so content. "What's your favorite thing about me?" she goes on.
He pretends to consider for a moment. "Your boobs."
"Fitz!"
"Sorry," he grins. "I meant to say your butt."
"That's no better!"
"Why not? You have an amazing derrière."
She rolls her eyes. "I'm gonna go now, if this is how low the conversation has stooped."
"Don't! I miss you. I hate being apart."
"Only two days now. Aren't you excited for the gala?"
"Yeah, it's a great day. But I have to be on my best behavior: no drinking, plenty of socializing. It's exhausting."
"Oh, poor Fitzy."
"I know. I'm gonna need a very long back rub on Sunday."
"No chance," she laughs. "I will no doubt be incredibly hungover, if my last six birthdays are anything to go by."
"You'd better not be too hungover for reunion sex."
"I might be. You might have to wait even longer."
"I don't know if that will be possible." He can hear someone calling his name from inside the house. "I have to go, baby. I'm needed for some other job."
"Okay. I'll call you before I go to sleep."
"You'd better."
He makes another quick call to the New York florist he's already been in touch with, checking his delivery is ready for the morning, before heading inside to carry on with preparations.
When he wakes at seven AM the next day his phone screen is already full of text messages from Olivia: THANK YOU FOR THE FLOWERS! followed by several floral emoticons and little yellow faces with heart-shaped eyes and kissing lips. He calls her on FaceTime straight away.
"Happy birthday to you," he sings as soon as she picks up, his voice low and scratchy from sleep. He even yawns right in the middle of the song which makes her giggle.
"Thank you baby," she says sweetly. She's at home, looking gorgeous and glowing. "The flowers are beautiful. You really didn't need to send four bunches."
"Of course I did - it's your birthday. I thought you could put one in every room."
"I have done. And thank you for the Dom Perignon - I thought we could drink some this evening while we're getting ready, but I'll save a couple of bottles for the two of us."
"Are we going to be celebrating something?"
"Who knows?" she shrugs, smiling. "There's always something to celebrate when there's Champagne in the fridge."
"Very true. I'll bring the rest of your present to you tomorrow."
"There's more?"
"Oh yes."
She beams at him. "You're too good to me."
"I'm not good enough. I'm not there to give you a birthday kiss."
"You'll just have to make it up to me."
"I will, don't you worry."
She briefly tells him about her morning with Abby before she needs to leave to meet her dad. "I'll text you later," she says. "Or call me if you get a break."
"I don't want to interrupt your girly afternoon. Enjoy your time with your friends before I come back and steal you away again."
"I like the sound of that." Her silky voice is low and oh so tempting.
"Mmm," he sighs, "Me too. Have an amazing day, sweet baby. I'll be thinking about you." He blows a kiss which she pretends to catch between her fingers and place on her lips.
"Thank you, Fitzy."
"Anything for you, Birthday Girl."
He showers and dresses, meeting his father and Marilyn downstairs for breakfast. He's in a bad mood and he knows why: he really wants to be back in New York, with his girl, on her birthday. He escapes outside as soon as he can, busying himself with as many tasks as he can manage at once. It takes his mind off her for a while and before he knows it, it's eleven o'clock and the first guests are going to be arriving in an hour.
He grabs a bottle of water from one of the bars and goes to stand beside Marilyn on the front steps of the house. "You've been busy," she comments in her delicate English accent, unchanged after all these years in the States.
"It looks good, doesn't it?"
"It certainly does."
There's a comfortable silence between them as they watch the staff making last minute adjustments. After several minutes, Marilyn finally speaks again. "I'm so glad you came, Fitz. Jerry has been a changed man since you've cleared the air."
He glances sideways at her, surprised. "We've started to. I think it will take a lot longer for it to settle completely."
"Still. Thank you." She turns and smiles at him. "He loves you fiercely, you know."
Fitz looks at her for a long time as she continues to observe the arena in front of them, seemingly unaware of him.
"Why have you stayed with him all this time, in the shadows?" Days ago he would have thought that such a personal question, but he doesn't believe in family secrets anymore. "How has that been enough for you?"
He's thinking of his and Olivia's relationship, of course. He hadn't realized until now that Marilyn will know exactly how she might be feeling.
The older woman turns to face him again. She doesn't look remotely upset or offended by his question. "I ran away from my husband when I was forty-three. He beat my daughter and I for years. A friend finally convinced me to leave him and we came here, to California. Your father employed me as his assistant despite the fact I'd never done a job like it before. I was an English teacher back in Sussex."
Fitz finds her smile is even more beautiful, now that he knows what she's been through. "It was difficult at times, with Jerry mourning the loss of your mother and me, terrified of men in general. But we had an undeniable connection, and he was always so kind to me. I'll never forget that."
She pauses, looking wistfully into the distance. "In answer to your question, Fitz: my relationship with your father is complicated but he makes me smile, instantly, whenever I see him. It doesn't matter if we've been apart two weeks or two hours. And I think that kind of happiness is worth everything."
Fitz pictures Olivia and the way she smiles at him; he remembers how he feels like his heart might burst with joy each time he sees her. And to make her smile, to really make her happy, on her birthday would be... the best feeling in the world. "I need to go," he says suddenly.
"Okay."
"No, I mean back to New York. I'm sorry."
Marilyn studies him. She's very smart; far smarter than his father. Maybe that's one thing they both have in common: their taste in intelligent women. "I think you've done all you can here, for now," she says, and she's not referring to his help preparing the gala. "She's a lucky girl, Fitz. You have all the best qualities of your father - his loyalty, his passion, his kindness - and none of his worst."
He doesn't know what to say to that. She doesn't seem to mind.
"Take good care of him," he says, pulling her into a hug.
She kisses his cheek. "I always will."
"Can you say goodbye to him for me? I don't think I can handle an emotional scene right now."
"He'll understand. Come back and visit us soon."
"I will. I promise."
He's in his hire car and driving to the airport less than two minutes later. This is the most impulsive, most rational decision he's ever made. He hits the steering wheel with his palm in excitement and whoops out of the open window.
"Livvie, baby, I'm on my way."
