A/N: As always, thank you. I can't say it enough. I'm always blown away by your ongoing support. And to hear from new readers, too, is amazing.

There's a lot going on here. I really hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!


Chapter 22 - Isn't That The Best Secret (In The World)?

Fitz manages to meet with Harrison on Tuesday afternoon. He works for a relatively small management and public relations company in Manhattan which has a warm, personalized feel to it. Olivia is their biggest client by far and Fitz can't help but smile as he admires the life-sized photographs of her which adorn the walls of their reception area. He doesn't think he'll ever get over the fact that this beautiful woman has chosen him to love, to share her life with.

Harrison welcomes him into his office exactly on time, with a friendly handshake and the offer of a coffee. "I've just made a fresh pot. Please, sit down."

"I'd love a cup, thank you."

He pours them one each and takes a seat behind his desk. "So, how's things?"

"Not bad," Fitz says, smiling. "How are you? How's Kelsey?"

"All good. We're moving in together next weekend, actually."

"Congratulations."

"Thanks. Now, what can I do for you?"

Fitz takes a sip of his coffee and then sets it slowly back down, composing his thoughts. "I wanted to get some advice from you regarding how we might eventually reveal mine and Olivia's relationship to the public. She's so anxious about what might happen but she doesn't want to discuss it anymore. She's burying her head in the sand." He sighs, running his hand over his face and through his hair. "I hate seeing her like this. I need to know the facts, I need a plan. What are our options here?"

Harrison looks at him for a long moment before answering. "She's scared, Fitz."

"I know that."

"I'm sure you do. But I don't think you understand completely." He sits forward in his chair, resting his forearms on his desk, fingers interlaced. "She's a young black woman, making a huge name for herself in the world. Do you know how many emails we get every day, asking to book her for appearances, interviews, photoshoots? At least thirty. Some days more than fifty. Everything from Vanity Fair to the in-flight magazines of obscure Asian airlines. Liv only chooses a few because her work with the UN, with her charities, is most important to her.

"She really cares. She wants to make real change. And there are people out there who want her to fail, who are already waiting for her to crash and burn, simply because they don't like the color of her skin. These kinds of people don't believe she deserves any success, no matter her cause or how hard she tries, and they will demonize her for falling in love with you, Fitz, because you are a white man. Not only that, but an older, rich, successful white man; one whose father was a three-time Republican Senator, for Christ's sake! The won't attack you because you're one of them, so they'll take out their hatred on Olivia instead. And I don't like saying this, but there are also black people out there who won't approve of her choosing you either. They'll think she somehow sold out. You are entering the minefield of racial politics that has plagued our country for centuries, and I don't envy you one bit.

"I'm sorry for the lecture, man. Those groups are minorities, but often very vocal ones. I have to admit, though - I'm not actually surprised that she wants to bury her head in the sand. Wouldn't you?"

Fitz's heart has become a lead weight in his chest. Not for the first time in his life, his unstoppable optimism has blinded him to the real issues going on. How could he have been so naïve? He can't even meet Harrison's eyes, this man who understands his girl far better than he does. "Shit. I feel like the most awful person in the world," he mutters, so angry at himself for failing her that he's shaking.

"Don't. How would you know all that?"

Fitz finally looks up. "I thought I had some idea, but clearly I was just skimming the surface. All I want to do is to protect her; to make her happy."

"You do, I can see that." Harrison smiles and relaxes back into his chair again. "You obviously care about her a lot and I have to thank you for that, as her friend. She'll need you when all this comes out."

"She'll have me."

"Good. So, what do you want to do?"

"I want to finalize my divorce and then, as soon as I'm free, Olivia can decide how we proceed, guided by you."

"How is your divorce going?"

He shrugs slightly. "I'm meeting my wife and our lawyers tomorrow to try and come to an arrangement about splitting our assets. We have a prenup but apparently some of the wording is a little ambiguous, so we have a few things to negotiate."

"Is she being difficult?"

"She might be. I'm not sure"

There's a pause. "Do you think she knows about Olivia?"

Fitz is taken aback. "No. How could she?"

"There was that photo of you two on her birthday night."

He frowns. "She did confront me about that, but she was worried about me and Kim and I managed to convince her it was nothing."

"Okay." Harrison takes a drink of his coffee and Fitz is grateful for the breather. He feels like a witness being cross-examined by a very smart, very fast-talking attorney. "So, once you're divorced, are you going to tell her about Olivia before we make it public knowledge?"

"I… hadn't thought about it," he admits.

"Well, you need to." Harrison gazes directly at him, his smile rueful. "The first thing the press are gonna do when we drop your relationship is run straight to your ex-wife and ask for her side of the story. What do you think she'll tell them?"

"I don't know."

"Not good enough. We need to make sure she says nothing. Not a single word. No comment from an ex is ever a good thing."

Fitz is silent. He hadn't even considered that. Harrison is clearly damn good at his job. He goes on: "Will she want to speak out? Were you a bad husband? Have you done anything to piss her off?"

"No!"

"Apart from fall in love with someone else. Someone younger, famous, undoubtedly more beautiful." They stare at each other. Fitz is annoyed but Harrison doesn't care. "There's nothing more dangerous than a woman scorned."

He can feel his pulse racing. This is turning out to be far more complicated than he'd ever dreamed. "What do you suggest I do?" he asks through gritted teeth. He feels like the situation is spinning out of his control - and that's without their baby added to the mix as well.

"We need to get your wife to sign a non-disclosure agreement, prohibiting her from making any remarks in public. You might have to pay her a significant amount."

He shakes his head. "She won't want money. She doesn't need it."

"What does she want?"

"I don't know."

"Everybody wants something."

He sits back in his chair, lets out a long breath and gives himself a minute to think. "Influence," he says eventually. "Power. She's a lawyer, almost at the top of her game, but she's always been ambitious. She's desperate to make partner."

Harrison considers this for a moment. "I'm not sure we can give that to her. I don't know the field very well, but I'll make some enquiries. There is another option."

"Which is?"

"We find dirt on her. It doesn't even have to be something huge because if we spin it right, if we can convince her it will destroy her career, she'll bite."

Fitz grimaces. "Is this really how this business works?"

"Oh yes," Harrison grins. "And I love it."

Fitz racks his brains for anything about Mellie which might be useful. She's stabbed a lot of people in the back over the years, but he doesn't really know any of the details and isn't sure how he'd find out. Her friends and family won't talk because they're all cut from the same cloth and unfailingly loyal. The only place where she's disliked is at work - but, as a senior associate, she's almost everybody's boss. It's not going to be easy to get anyone to speak ill of her. Unless…

"I might be able to find something. I'll need some time."

"Sure. We're on your schedule here, just let me know. In the meantime I can draw up a contract with a gagging clause, pass it by our lawyers. It will cost you, though."

"That's fine. Just please don't tell Olivia about any of this yet. It's a lot more complex than I thought it would be and she's already stressed out enough."

Harrison looks at him levelly. "I think she'd want to know what's going on. She always wants to be involved in every decision."

"With respect," Fitz counters, "My wife is my problem. Not hers."

Harrison holds up his hands in surrender. "Okay, whatever you think's best. Look, I have another meeting in five but we haven't even touched on the question you came in here with. In terms of revealing your relationship - I think it's manageable, as long as your wife is silenced. I would advise you wait a while after your divorce comes through; maybe even a couple of months, if you can manage that."

Fitz nods but he knows there's no way, not when her pregnancy begins to show.

"Then we plant a few small articles, some candid photos of you two getting cozy in public. We can get Olivia a TV interview, someone can ask her about the rumors and she'll blush, say that you're dating. You might want to pretend you've known each other longer which won't be hard, given your backgrounds. You were friends, you realized you were falling for each other etcetera. I personally think that most of the media outlets will be supportive because everyone loves a love story, and Liv is Little Miss Perfect. There will undoubtedly be some backlash from those groups I mentioned earlier, but I think it'll be small. We'll shield her from it as best we can but I'm sure she'll still worry about it. That's who she is. She wants to please everyone, and that's just not possible in this world."

It sounds like a great plan - flawless, even - except for the huge missing piece. Fitz has realized it was stupid to come here expecting to solve all their problems while keeping her pregnancy hidden from this professional, this PR expert. Still, his time hasn't been completely wasted - far from it, in fact.

"I really appreciate you meeting with me," he says, standing and reaching out for a handshake. "You've given me a lot to think about."

"I'm here for you both, man. She's not just a client, she's become a really close friend. It's so good to see her happy at last."

They smile genuinely at one another. "Good luck with your move next weekend."

"Thanks. Hopefully we can all hang out again soon. That was a great night."

"It was. I'll speak to Liv later and we'll let you know."

"Awesome. See you, Fitz."

"See you."

Outside the office, Fitz takes his phone from his pocket and texts the only lawyer he trusts: Abigail Whelan.

I have a favor to ask. Can you call me when you're free?


Mellie is a nightmare.

She and her lawyer, a formidable woman by the name of Clarissa Ma, have gone through their prenuptial agreement with a fine toothcomb and picked out at least ten points of contention. Fitz already has a headache by the third one.

"The Georgiana," Clarissa says forcefully, glaring at him across the table. She really hates men, he's decided. There's no other reason for her to behave so abhorrently towards him. She proceeds to read out the clause which details that his grandfather's inheritance will remain in his possession after the divorce. "There is no specific mention of the yacht in this agreement, and my client has indicated she would like it sold and the profits divided."

Fitz gapes at Mellie, who looks away. "What the fuck? You hate sailing. You've never even been on her!"

Jemima puts her hand on his arm, silencing him. "That is ridiculous," she says to her colleague across the table. "The wording is crystal clear. The Georgiana belonged to Fitzgerald Thomas Grant I and now, as per his written will, it is the property of my client."

Clarissa turns to Mellie who shrugs, her gaze still averted. "It's fine. He can keep it."

Her lawyer seems to take this as a personal loss and redoubles her efforts with the next items on the list. Fitz is beginning to think all this is Clarissa Ma's doing; that perhaps Mellie isn't as hell-bent on destroying him as she seems. By the end of the meeting, he's offered her their house, one of his rental properties in the city and a significant portion of his investments. It's far more than he'd intended to give but he just can't face another meeting with her awful lawyer.

"I'll have to think about it," Mellie says, having regained some of her composure; that fierceness which he's sure wins her a lot of cases.

He glares at her. "Can I have a word with you? Alone."

"Dr Grant, I don't advise-"

"It's fine." He brushes off his lawyer. "We'll only be a minute."

Reluctantly, the two other women leave the room.

"Who is she?" he says to Mellie as soon as they've gone.

She lifts her chin defiantly. "She's the best."

"The best at what, castrating men?"

A hint of a smile tugs at the corners of her lips for the briefest moment, before her iron mask falls back into place. "The best at winning."

"But why do you want to do it like this?" he asks, and it sounds like he's pleading but he doesn't care. "That was horrible. Why do we have to fight over all our stuff? Don't you already have everything you need?"

She looks straight into his eyes for the longest moment, like she's searching for something beneath the surface. It's unnerving - but not as much as when she finally asks: "Who's Olivia?"

What?

"What?" he repeats out loud, his heart thundering against his ribs. He hopes she can't hear it, can't see his sudden panic. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She's still staring at him and he can feel himself flushing. How the fuck does she know? Or is it just a guess, an intuition? Is she using her professional skills to force him to admit to something she's not even sure he's guilty of?

He holds his ground, thinking of anything other than Olivia to try and calm himself. After another minute of his wife's appraisal, which feels like a lifetime, she finally backs down. He thinks he's passed her test - for now. "I told you before, Fitz. You will not humiliate me."

"I don't want to." Will she believe him? Because it's the truth. "I just want to move on. Agree to the terms, Mel. Let's get this over with."

"I'll… consider it." She picks up her purse and strides across to the door.

"I hate your lawyer," he says bitterly, just before she opens it.

She turns back and smirks at him. "So do I."


He's so angry when he gets home that evening that he can't even open a beer, his hands are shaking so much.

"She knows!" he rants to Henry, who comes into the kitchen to help him. "I don't know how, but she knows about Olivia."

"I assume we're talking about Mellie?"

"Who else?"

"Come and sit down, man. Tell me exactly what happened."

Fitz recounts the story almost word for word, pausing only to take big swigs of his drink. It's not strong enough. Why didn't he go straight for whiskey instead?

"Look, all she has is a name," Henry reasons. "You said it yourself: maybe she was just testing her suspicions. If she knew everything, why wouldn't she have just come out with it?"

"I don't know. Fuck. I just want her to leave us alone, to get out of my life!"

"Of course you do." Henry pats his shoulder, sympathizing. "Is there anywhere she might have gotten the name Olivia from? Have you said it in front of her, maybe on the phone?"

Fitz leans back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath. "I guess she could have heard me say it last week, when I served the papers to her. I'm not sure." He gazes at his friend again. "Then there's that photograph of me and Olivia on her birthday, but we're not even touching. I've got my arm around Kim, one of her friend's wives."

Henry raises his eyebrows.

"She was cold," Fitz says sourly, rolling his eyes.

"Okay. Just checking."

"Well, I don't appreciate it right now." He sighs and rubs his face vigorously with his hands. "Sorry. That was dickish of me."

Henry laughs. "It was. But I'll be the bigger man and forgive you."

"You're too kind."

"I know."

There's a comfortable pause. Fitz is surprised to find his bottle is almost empty already.

"I think it was a test," Henry says at length, clearly choosing his words carefully so as not to provoke another outburst. "She heard the name, maybe she connected it to the photo, and she tried to catch you out. It sounds like you held your ground, though."

"Mm. You're probably right. But I don't understand what difference it makes. So what if I'm dating someone?"

His friend looks at him like he's never seen him before. "'So what?' Do you not understand anything about women?"

Fitz frowns. "Obviously not. Please, enlighten me."

"You were together twelve years. That's a hell of a long time. Then one day, quite possibly out of the blue as far as she's concerned, you decide you don't want her anymore. That you don't love her. And in the space of two months, you've found someone else. Moved on. You're happy. Leaving her behind is just so easy for you, almost like she never mattered at all. How do you think that makes her feel?"

That is a question Fitz has been avoiding for months now. "I don't want to talk about this," he groans, standing up and heading to the fridge for another beer.

"Well, I think it's exactly what's fueling her unreasonable behavior. You haven't technically betrayed her, as you'd already left her, but I'm sure that's how she sees it."

"But she slept with someone else too!"

"Is it an ongoing thing?"

"I don't think so. Don't ask me why - I don't have any proof either way - but I just get the impression she's alone."

"Well, a one night stand is not the same as falling for someone, starting a brand new relationship. And, buddy, this is Olivia Pope we're talking about. She's not exactly awful to look at, or old, or boring. She's a fucking superstar. I'm sure Mellie is worried she's being exchanged for a younger model, and she's terrified of how embarrassing that will be for her when all her friends and colleagues find out. She doesn't want to be humiliated, as she put it."

Fitz slumps back into his chair, taking a long sip from his second bottle. As much as he hates to admit it, he's certain Henry is right. "Why delay our divorce though? She can't just put me off forever. She'll have to sign eventually."

"I guess she's buying time, trying to figure out whether you are dating someone or you're not. Then she'll be able to work out how she feels about it; how much she wants to hurt you."

That sounds just like Mellie. A woman scorned, indeed.

"How did you get so smart when it comes to the opposite sex?" Fitz asks enviously.

"I have three sisters, one ex-wife and I'm a doctor - studying people is part of my job."

"You're a pediatric anesthesiologist."

"Parents are the most complicated humans out there. Trust me."

That word - parents - drags Fitz's mind back to Olivia, to the tiny, innocent life growing inside of her. He promised he'd sort this mess out, that he'd make himself free to be with his family, and what has he achieved so far? He's raised his wife's suspicions so much that she won't agree to divorce him. He's so mad with himself, with the whole situation, that he knows there's no way he can see Olivia tonight. The previous evening was bad enough: he was late anyway because of meetings and, when he did turn up at her door, he felt so awful for keeping his conversation with Harrison a secret that he barely spoke to her, instead whisking her off to the bedroom and burying his shame between her glorious thighs.

"What are you gonna do now?" Henry's asking, drawing him reluctantly back to the present. "Appeal to her better nature? It might work. I think there's still a little bit of soul left in there somewhere."

"I tried that today." He downs the remainder of his beer, feeling thoroughly miserable and not even remotely drunk yet. "The trouble is, her lawyer is corrupting her, trying to squeeze me dry. Maybe she thinks I'll confess to anything if I'm under enough pressure. Maybe she is genuinely so pissed at me that she wants to take everything, to ruin my life, for all the reasons you mentioned. You know," he goes on, smiling sardonically, "If she wasn't being such a bitch we could have worked together, made a story to sell that wouldn't embarrass her. I would have done it if she'd just asked. But now… there's no way.

"So I guess either I hold out, hoping she doesn't discover our relationship and eventually just caves in and signs; or, my other option comes to fruition."

"And that is?"

He pulls out his phone and checks his messages, but there's still no update from Abby after their conversation the previous evening. He shouldn't be surprised - she's barely had any time to do what he's asked - but things have become direr now. His relationship with Olivia is starting to suffer and he's getting desperate.

"Dirt."


Olivia can sense there's something wrong with him. He's been distant for the last few days, and he's barely paying attention now as she tells him she's booked her first appointment with an obstetrician and would he like to come along?

"Fitz!"

"What?"

He looks up at her, blinking. They're sat together on her sofa late on Thursday evening and he's been absentmindedly drawing circles on her bare abdomen. It's endearing, but she wants to have an actual conversation with him.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

She puts her palm on his cheek, stroking her thumb over his day-old stubble. He looks exhausted. "Why won't you tell me what's up? I'm worried about you."

They've barely talked since the start of the week. They didn't see each other last night and on Tuesday, he came over late and took her straight to bed. He leans over and kisses her now, drawing her onto his lap. His lips wander down her neck, making her shiver, but after a moment she stops him, lifting his chin again. He will not distract her with sex this time.

"Talk to me, Fitzy. Please."

He gazes into her eyes, looking torn. She can feel him trembling and now she's really concerned. She's never seen him like this before. There must be something in her expression which portrays her terror because suddenly he lets his head fall back against the cushion, sighing from deep in his chest. "I don't know where to start," he confesses.

"From the beginning?"

"Okay."

He moves her off him again and turns towards her. He tries and fails to smile, which doesn't reassure her at all.

"I met with Harrison on Tuesday. We talked about you. About us."

"You… what?" She's so shocked, she doesn't know how that news makes her feel.

"I wanted to know how we might handle coming out to the public, because I know it's worrying you so much. I got a few ideas, although I didn't tell him about the baby and that will make it all much more difficult. But he also explained to me how this will really affect you - a successful black woman, dating a white man. I knew you had barriers to face, Liv, but I didn't know how high they were. You always seem to handle everything so well. You never seem to struggle."

Her eyes are suddenly filled with tears. He's so earnest, she almost can't stand it.

"I felt like such a failure, listening to Harrison talk," Fitz goes on steadily. "I felt like I didn't understand you, didn't understand the sacrifices you're making for me."

"I'm not," she whispers. "They're not sacrifices. I love you."

When he smiles this time, it's genuine. "I know you do. But I've been struggling with the fact that I still have a lot to learn: about you; about your heritage. I stroll through life thinking everything is easy and it's not. I'm just lucky. Privileged."

"Fitz, I don't care." She takes his hands, holds on tight. "You don't act privileged at all. You've spent your life using your position to give back to others and I admire you so much for that. I knew who you were when I fell in love with you," she adds softly, bringing her face closer to his.

Now they both smile. "I don't deserve you," he murmurs.

"Well, you've got me. We're kind of bound together forever, don't you think?"

She glances down at her tummy and he chuckles. "We are."

Olivia presses her lips to his once, twice; runs her fingers lovingly through his curls. "Thank you for what you said. No one I've dated has ever tried to understand how society treats women like me. You are so special, Fitz."

"You should thank Harrison," he says, but he kisses her again anyway.

"Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

He looks at her for a long moment. "No," he says, and for the first time since they met she knows he's lying to her. Her good mood evaporates.

"You promised to always be honest with me."

She hates herself for playing that card but it hurts. They've always been completely open with one another. What the hell is going on?

He looks guilty; gazes away. "I don't want to stress you out."

"Not telling me is going to stress me out more!"

"It's just about the divorce. It's nothing. I'm handling it."

"Fitz!"

She cannot believe he won't explain himself. She feels her emotions welling up in her chest, stinging her eyes. He can't keep secrets from her - that's how relationships get ruined.

"What did you say to me once?" she asks him, willing herself not to cry. "'I want all of you, even the pieces you don't like.' It works both ways."

"I'm just trying to protect you."

"I don't need protecting!" Suddenly she's on her feet, frustrated tears flowing down her cheeks which she angrily rubs away. "I need a partner who tells me the truth, who shares everything with me!"

"Baby. Don't do this."

He's standing too, folding her into his arms even as she tries to push him away. This kind of betrayal is so reminiscent of her relationship with Edison, she can't bear it.

"Get off me!"

"Liv, stop it. Olivia!" His voice is so loud, so sharp, that she instantly stills. "Look, I'll tell you everything. I promise. Just, please don't fight me."

He looks so upset, it almost breaks her heart. He's not Edison, she tells herself sternly. Don't be such an idiot.

He passes her a tissue. They sit down again; he holds her hands and doesn't let go.

"I said my meeting with my wife went okay... It didn't."

Olivia listens as he explains the whole story, including everything Harrison said about getting Mellie to sign a gagging clause, his plan to use Abby to dig up dirt on her and Henry's assessment of her motives.

"I was so angry with her last night," he finishes, "I didn't want to see you. Or rather, I didn't want you to see me. I'm so sorry. I should have just been honest from the beginning."

But Olivia understands perfectly why he wanted to shield her from all that information. She feels like she's learned more about his ex-wife than she ever wanted to know; as if somehow she's become real now, a physical presence in their lives and not just a problem for him to deal with.

"Where's my phone?"

"What?" He actually laughs, stunned. Clearly not the reaction he was expecting.

"Can you pass me it please?" She points to the arm of the sofa behind him. "I need to text Abby, tell her to hurry the fuck up."

Fitz watches her carefully, trying to figure her out. "Are you okay?"

Once she's finished her message she looks up at him, deadly serious. "We need that woman out of your life. I want you for me, for our baby."

"I want that too. So much."

"So why are you trying to fix this by yourself? Two heads are better than one, aren't they?"

His expression softens and he reaches for her, pulling her into his embrace. "Oh Livvie. I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry."

He buries his face in her hair and she lets him hold her, feeling her breathing slowly start to settle as the familiarity of his body, his scent begins to soothe her. She can't stay mad at him for long. She just loves him too much.

"Don't ever do that to me again," she says quietly, squeezing him so tightly she thinks she might break him. "For a moment then, I actually thought of Edison."

"Oh god," he groans. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. It's different. You were trying to protect me, I get that - and I forgive you."

They break apart just enough to gaze at each other. "I love you," he says solemnly. "I don't ever want to hurt you."

She smiles, kissing him. "I know. I'm fine. We're fine. But we're a team, remember? We're in this together."

"We're in this together," he confirms. His blue eyes are alive again now; full of love. "And Livvie?"

"Yes?"

"I wouldn't miss your OB appointment for the world."


They spend the next couple of days brainstorming together, trying to find solutions to their ever-growing list of problems. As usual, Olivia was right: two heads are definitely better than one. They come up with a few ideas, running them past Harrison, getting the okay.

The first is designed to make the news of their baby a little less scandalous when it finally hits the headlines. They both know they can't disguise the fact that they conceived when he was still married, but they've decided that a little ambiguity about the dates can only be a good thing. And so, when Olivia attends an exclusive magazine launch on Saturday night - an event overflowing with celebrities, fashionistas and, therefore, a vast cohort of media - the dress she has chosen to wear is so tight across her flat abdomen that no one will ever look back at pictures of her and suspect she might already be ten weeks pregnant.

The second part of their plan is to distract Mellie's attention away from the notion that they are a couple, and it's the part Fitz is dreading. Olivia is going to be photographed with a well-known male actor and Harrison, who managed to set all this up in the space of just twenty-four hours, will make sure it's publicized in such a way that suggests a possible romance between the two of them: a 'party-goer' who will comment that they looked to be having a good time together. That will be the end of it; so subtle it's barely even noticed by most outlets. She won't see him again, they won't drag it out. But it might just be enough to get his wife's attention and - most importantly - her signature on their divorce papers.

"I hate the idea of you with another guy," Fitz had said sullenly as he left her apartment late on Saturday afternoon. She'd reached for him; kissed him so sweetly, and for so long, that she left him breathless.

"Just remember," she'd murmured, so close their noses were almost touching, "I'm carrying your baby. Isn't that the best secret in the world?"

He hadn't uttered another word of protest after that.

Now he's lying alone on Henry's couch, watching a live stream of the event on the magazine's website. Star after star walks the bright pink carpet, pausing for interviews and photographs. There's Miranda Kerr, Rosie Huntington-Whiteley, Victoria Beckham; countless other famous models, designers, actors - the vast majority of them white. There really is such bias, such racism in popular culture. After his chat with Harrison, Fitz has been even more aware of it than he was before - and he's even prouder of Olivia for fighting her way in, for changing the game.

He sips his scotch, starting to get a little bored with the endless stream of glamorous people. Many of them are too young for him to even recognize and he realizes, with a reluctant smile, that he's getting old. But then, suddenly, his girl is right there and he feels a surge of adrenaline, making his heart rate spike. He sits up, bringing his laptop screen closer to his face so he can really appreciate her in all her glory. She is just stunning: her long-sleeved, silver dress looks like it's been superglued on, highlighting every flawless curve. The skirt is so short that most of her slender legs are on show and her skin glows as the cameras flash repeatedly. When she turns, revealing her bare back, desire shoots through his body, pooling in his groin. She knows what it does to him when she wears something backless; how it invokes such vivid, lustful memories of the night they met.

The interviewer beckons her over, commenting on her outfit, on how amazing she looks. They talk about the designer, about the magazine launch. Olivia says she's proud to be supporting the venture because, alongside fashion and beauty, it will feature editorials focusing on real issues faced by women all around the globe. He tunes out after that, though, because her right hand has come to rest on her belly. It's only fleeting, just a few seconds before she realizes and drops it again, but suddenly his emotions are overwhelming him. This divine creature, absolutely perfect in every way, is his. She's funny, charming, intelligent, beautiful; she's the mother of his child, the woman he's going to marry one day, the one person he will spend his whole life beside.

When he lets himself take a step back and think about everything that has happened over the last two months, it's just crazy. His entire universe has shifted and realigned with her at its center; her and their tiny little creation, their future. He wants to see her walk red carpets with her baby bump on display; wants to give her the freedom to stand in front of a camera and share her joy with the world. He wants it so badly it makes him ache. He hasn't really thought how their pregnancy announcement might eventually play out, but it's going to take a lot of restraint to stop him from just running out onto the street and shouting it at the top of his voice.

As soon as Olivia's interview is over, he turns off his computer. He won't risk seeing her posing with this actor, despite knowing it's completely and utterly harmless, because he's sure it'll put him in a bad mood. He should be there, with her. If he could, he'd pull her into a dark corner and kiss her so softly her knees would start to give way beneath her; he'd stand behind her on the dancefloor as their hips swayed to a slow beat, his breath caressing her neck, his hand splayed possessively on her abdomen. He's certainly discovered his dominant side since meeting her: he loves to make her weak for him, to take away her control and leave her pleading for more.

And then, in the spirit of dominance, an idea comes to him.

He picks up his phone, does a quick internet search and then makes a call. Five minutes and a few thousand dollars later, he texts Olivia.

Thomas Attaway is booked into the Tiffany Suite at the St Regis hotel tonight. He'll be waiting for you, whenever you're ready xx


They destroy the suite.

Maybe it's the rough week they've had, or her tiny dress, or her hormones. Maybe it's the mood he's in, all ferocious kisses and forceful hands, or that he's a little drunk in that sexy, smoldering way which makes everything inside of her tighten so deliciously.

Maybe this is normal two months into a relationship. Maybe this is just how they love each other. Whatever the reason, he takes possession of her. Owns her. And she lets him, because he's Fitz and she's infatuated and they are just unstoppable when they're together like this.

Surveying the scene the next morning, dressed only in her underwear and his shirt while she sips a cup of ginger tea, Olivia can't help but be impressed at the level of devastation they created. In the living area, the two couches are askew, their cushions scattered all over. The vase on the coffee table is on its side, its water long-since soaked into the plush rug beneath. Her designer dress is crumpled by the window, her heels somehow on opposite sides of the room.

She can count her orgasms like lasting impressions, lingering in the quiet air. Two here, in quick succession: his mouth and then, while she was still trembling, several quick, powerful thrusts of his cock as he lay over her on the floor. In the dining area there's a third, sometime later. The chairs are standing haphazardly, one tipped onto its side, betraying Fitz's desperation to find a surface for her to sit on, to welcome him in between her legs. That was just after their midnight feast: there's melted ice cream on the tabletop; empty tubs, spoons licked clean. There was ice cream on her skin, too, but that evidence is long gone now. Someone saw to it with his tongue.

She wanders into the bathroom, still carpeted in the towels they threw down because having sex in the shower and accidentally pushing open the door creates a hell of a lot of mess in a very short amount of time. Her fourth climax hovers there, reflected a hundred times in the glass, the sparkling white tiles, the spotlights. It seems to smile at her. We had a good time here, remember?

Her body shivers. Of course.

The only place they didn't fuck last night was in their bed. They might have - certainly, she still wanted him; she always wants him - but the moment her head hit the pillow, she was asleep. And now she watches Fitz as he dreams and she's drawn towards him by something invisible, something much stronger than her willpower and her desire to be kind and let him rest. She needs to be in his arms; needs to breathe him in because the oxygen over here, where he's not, is just nowhere near as sweet.

It's one of the softest mattresses she's ever slept on, as light as a cloud, and his heat envelops her as soon as she slips beneath the covers. He doesn't stir at first - he's a deep sleeper, unlike her. She cuddles into him, pressing her front to his, her face into his neck, entwining their legs. He smells warm, masculine, heady. She kisses him in this intimate place, on his soft skin where his pulse beats slow and steady. His arms move around her, recognizing her as a piece of him. Known. Belonging. A perfect fit.

They doze together in this position for a while. Olivia is marveling at how much she loves him, at how much he's changed her. She wonders how she failed to notice that her life felt empty without him. How did she sleep alone at night? How did she spend Sunday mornings before him, and this? This cherished tranquility. This peace he brings to her mind, to her soul.

She thinks about how, before Fitz, if someone had told her she was going to become a mother next year she would have been terrified; and how, with him, she's not. The only thing she's afraid of, deep down inside, is losing their baby. Still fourteen days to go until the relative safety of 'twelve weeks', but even then, nothing's certain. She read somewhere that almost a quarter of pregnancies end in miscarriage - which means, of course, that three quarters don't. Statistically, she can be three times as excited as she is scared, and she'll probably be okay.

In fact, she thinks she will. She hasn't had a single bad feeling, and her gut is usually pretty good at forewarning her. In the same way she knows she and Fitz are meant to be, she believes in her body; in the impossible biological magic which is underway every minute of every day, building a person from a set of instructions which are nothing more than sequences of proteins. It is truly miraculous that the human race survives; that the entire animal kingdom has evolved from atoms, writing their own destiny.

"Morning."

Fitz's deep, scratchy voice fills her with happiness as he tightens his grip on her. He's awake: hers again, for the day.

"Morning." She kisses his throat, his jaw. He's holding her so close she can't move, can't see his face yet. "I missed you."

"Mm. Missed you t- too." A yawn overcomes him; he lets go of her to stretch out, his toes almost reaching the end of the bed. When he's recovered, he finally turns back and looks at her with those stunning blue eyes, with an adoring smile as he pulls her against him once more. "Hi."

"Hi."

She's sure her smile is a perfect replica of his.

"Were you asleep just now?" he asks, rubbing his nose against hers as his hands wander, exploring the curves of her spine, her ass. He still wants her, too. That is always implicit.

"No. Just thinking."

"About?"

Conversation is difficult when his fingertips are outlining her panties; lightly but deliberately brushing over her clit.

"DNA. Evolution."

A frown creases his forehead. "What?"

He kisses her before she can answer, then he rolls her over so he's spooning her. "I can give you some more of my DNA right now, if you'd like."

She laughs loudly - he is so outrageous sometimes - but when he flexes his hips, pushing his erection into her lower back, desire rushes through her. The ginger tea has already done its trick and settled her stomach; there's nothing else between them now but their underwear.

"God this shirt is sexy on you," he murmurs, biting on her earlobe as his fingernails caress her sensitive nipples through the cotton. Combined with his breath on the side of her neck, she just melts into him.

It's only minutes later, when he's inside her and filling her so incredibly, that she realizes this is the very same position they conceived in. She brings his palm to her belly, bare now where they've rid her of her clothes, and turns her face to his as best she can. "Fitz," she starts to say, her voice half-broken because the way he's moving is doing all sorts of wonderful things to her - but it doesn't matter that she can't speak because, as always, they're on exactly the same page.

"I know," he replies with a truly gorgeous smile, kissing the corner of her mouth. He stills and gazes into her eyes for the longest moment. "I love you, Olivia."

Suddenly she feels like she's about to cry. He starts to thrust gently in and out of her again - it's instinctive, she knows - and kisses her, his hand squeezing hers so tightly on her abdomen. Eventually she has to break away, to cry out, to give in. She lets him master her body one final time in this suite; lets him touch her, bite her, growl all sorts of obscenities into her ear until she's a quivering, emotional, orgasmic mess.

She wipes away tears as they breathe heavily together, still joined. Fitz cuddles her closer; kisses her warm skin a thousand times.

"You okay?" he asks gently, at length.

"Mm hmm. I'm good." She sniffs, willing herself to stay in control. "London seems like years ago, doesn't it?"

"The best years of my life."

She laughs softly and draws his arms around her waist even more tightly. "Mine too. That was where this all began…"

She runs her fingers over her navel, longing to feel a change there. One day soon. Come on, little one. Grow big and strong for your momma.

"London is a nice name, don't you think? London Grant."

It takes a moment for her brain to process his words. When she realizes what he's said she turns to look at him, horrified, and finds that he's already grinning. "I'm joking."

"Oh, thank god. Don't do that to me again, Fitzy."

"Why not?" he asks cutely as she relaxes again, relishing her role as little spoon.

"We are not giving our child a ridiculous name."

"But I have a ridiculous name."

She smiles fondly, even though he can't see her. "You don't. I like Fitzgerald. It's traditional."

"Mm. Well, I think three generations are probably enough."

"Really? I assumed you'd want to continue the name, if we have a boy."

"No." He presses his lips to her shoulder, his hands caressing her belly. "I like talking about this, though. I love imagining the future: how you'll look with a little bump-"

"-And then a bigger one."

"Yes. I think we'll be using this position a lot over the next seven months."

"Assuming you still want to have sex with me then."

He finally pulls out of her; rolls her onto her back to look at him. "You need to stop making assumptions, Livvie," he says sternly. "I hate when you do that. You can't control the way I feel about you."

But his face softens as he kisses her mouth, her chest; moves down the bed, pushing her legs apart so he can lie between them.

"Don't," she says, resisting him. "There'll be a wet patch on the sheets."

"Not my sheets," he retorts with his most charming smile. "I don't care."

She relents, opening her hips, letting him settle there with his cheek resting on her abdomen. "Can we spend every Sunday like this?" she wonders aloud, playing with his curls. There's nowhere else in the world she'd rather be.

"I hope so," he says softly in response, his eyes closed, his expression so peaceful. "Although it might start to get expensive after a few weeks."

Olivia shakes her head, trying not to laugh. "Not here. It's not the suite I want. Just you. Us… All three of us."

"I know." He gazes up at her, all ruffled and handsome and hers. It makes her heart dance against her ribs.

"I love you," she whispers.

He crawls upwards, sliding his arms beneath her, lifting her body into his as he captures her mouth in a rapturous kiss. Once he's stolen her breath away, he trails his lips to that spot on her neck which always guarantees her surrender. The prospect of her sixth orgasm shimmers in the air, just beyond his shoulder.

She closes her eyes again and lets it take hold.


Henry answers the door when she arrives at his house the following Friday evening. She's come straight from work with a change of clothes. Since she and Fitz can't go out together at the moment - not while there's a chance his wife might be watching - he's invited her for dinner, but she was supposed to get here over an hour ago.

"He's in the shower," Henry says after he's kissed her on both cheeks. "Can I get you a drink while you wait?"

"No thank you," she replies, out of breath. She hates being late, especially when someone is making a special effort for her. It's just been one of those days: absolutely non-stop from the moment she woke up. "I think I'll just… join him."

She tries not to blush as she sidesteps Henry and heads for the stairs, which is hard when she knows he's smirking at her. He has a very childish sense of humor, but it's one of the reasons she likes him so much. He's fun to be around; he makes her laugh all the time. He's also an excellent conversationalist, very generous and - most importantly of all - a great friend to Fitz.

She finds her man in the shower, as promised. She silently strips off her clothes, ties up her hair and then steps into the spray with him. The first he knows of her presence is when she slides her hands around his waist from behind, making him jump.

"Jesus," he exclaims. He looks at her over his shoulder. "Oh, it's you."

"Who did you think it would be?" she asks indignantly, but she's knows he's just playing.

His expression is deadly serious as he turns around. "Sometimes Henry joins me in here. Male bonding, you know?"

When he smiles so mischievously and leans down to kiss her, his hands settling in the small of her back, drawing her close, she is utterly powerless to resist him. "Hi, beautiful."

"Hi," she breathes, running her hands over his warm, soapy skin, feeling the hard muscles beneath. "I'm so sorry I'm late."

"It's fine. I already told you when you called… twice."

She must look suitably chastised because he laughs and kisses her some more.

"Mm," she sighs when he eventually lets her go. "Do we have time for shower sex?"

"Not really. Unless you're happy to eat dinner burnt."

"I might be."

"Well, I'm not." He passes her the bottle of shower gel she left here weeks ago. "There's no rush. You're not that late. We still have time this evening."

"I guess."

She steps beneath the spray momentarily and then begins to wash, starting with her arms, her chest, her abdomen…

"Livvie!"

She looks at him, startled. He's frozen, shampoo in his hair, staring at her hands. His eyes slowly rise to meet hers and she's half expecting them to be full of fear, because it sounds like something awful has just happened - but they're not. They're wide with excitement.

"You're showing! Look."

Her heart surges in her chest. She glances down, hastily wiping away the foam, and sure enough - her body has finally changed.

"Oh my god!"

Their gazes lock together again, shining with wonder; their joy bursts out of them as laughter. Olivia runs out of the shower, dripping wet. She needs to see this in the mirror, to examine herself from all angles - to make herself believe it's real. The glass in the bathroom is fogged up so she rushes into the bedroom instead, not caring that the door to the hallway is open and Henry might easily walk past.

She stands in front of the wardrobes and looks hard at the woman staring back. Petite, curvy… pregnant. A mother-to-be. She turns sideways and it's more visible now: a very slight rise of her belly, just above her pelvis. She doubts anyone else would notice it, even if she stood naked in front of them. But to her, to Fitz, it's everything.

He's behind her now, a towel around his waist, his hair still full of bubbles. Their eyes say a hundred things they couldn't aloud. She spins around and throws herself into his arms, squeezing him so tightly, her muscles made stronger by all the love coursing through her veins. She's been waiting for this moment for so long and now it's here, it's really here, and it's just… overwhelming.

She has to let him go after only a few seconds though, to stare at herself some more. How could she not have noticed until now? Did she wake up like this? She's not sure. Her day has been such a blur, she's barely had time to stop, to be mindful of her own body.

"This is… amazing," Fitz is saying, kneeling beside her and just taking her in.

Olivia runs her hand back and forth over her skin, mapping her new contours, while he watches with fascination. Then he kisses her hip; turns her and kisses her tiny baby bump, too. She lifts his chin. The smile they share is painfully wide. She is so extraordinarily in love with this man, she doesn't know how to contain it.

She starts by bending down, pressing her mouth to his. After a few beats where they simply savor one another, he deepens the kiss; pulls her down onto the floor with him. With some maneuvering she ends up sitting between his legs, her knees bent over his left thigh so he's cradling her. He wraps his towel around them both and kisses her again, nuzzles her neck; murmurs so many sweet things in her ear as his thumb lovingly strokes her belly. It seems he can't contain his love for her, either.

Henry finds them like this, not long later. His voice startles them; they're so wrapped up in each other, they didn't hear him climbing the stairs.

"What the hell are you doing?"

His green eyes take in the scene before him, clearly bemused. Their position, their state of undress, the fact Fitz is obviously mid-shower - it must look pretty strange.

"Just… having a moment," Fitz answers with a smile, a shrug; cuddling her into his chest so she can hide her reddening cheeks. She's so grateful he's so relaxed, so cool in situations like these.

"Right."

Olivia can't look at their intruder - it's too embarrassing.

"Well," he continues, "I just came to say the oven timer has gone off. Do you want me to do anything while you two… finish up here?"

"I'll be right there," Fitz says easily. "Thanks."

"…No problem."

"Oh my god," she groans as soon as they're alone again, the door firmly closed this time. "I can't believe he walked in on us like this!"

"Baby, it's Henry. He doesn't care. He was desperately trying not to laugh at us, actually." He kisses her lightly, gazing deep into her eyes. "I wouldn't change this for the world."

"Me neither," she admits, hugging him tightly. She wouldn't change this embrace; these last five minutes; the awestruck look on his face when he first noticed. It's an image which will stay with her forever.

"I need to go," he says reluctantly, a minute later. "Dinner will start to burn."

"Okay."

She stands and holds out her hand to help him to his feet. His eyes roam over her once again and he pauses, seemingly lost in thought.

"Fitz?"

"Sorry." He blinks; smiles at her. "Do you ever have those moments where you just can't believe this is real life? I can't believe you're actually having my baby. I can see it with my own eyes, and I can't believe it."

"All the time," Olivia confirms, full of affection. "Every day. Even now, it feels like a dream."

"A good one?"

"The best."

She steps into his arms, pressing herself against him. How long until they no longer fit together like this?

"Fitz!" Henry's voice reaches them from downstairs. "Something is smoking!"

"Shit."

He hurriedly leads her back into the bathroom with an apologetic smile; rinses his hair as fast as he can before he leaves her beneath the hot water to go and save his cooking. Olivia doesn't mind at all. She stays there for ages just touching her little bump, talking to her baby. She doesn't think anything in her life has ever made her as happy as this tiny change in her body. By the time Fitz comes back for her, already dressed and ready to serve dinner, she's crying.

"They're good tears," she sniffs as he switches off the water and wraps her up in a fluffy white towel. "I promise."

"I know." He kisses her forehead, her cheeks. "You're so sweet."

"I'm a wreck."

"But a beautiful one. Come on, let me take care of you. Both of you."

"Thank you... Daddy."

The word leaves her mouth before she's really thought about it, and immediately she wonders if it sounds weird. But, a split second later, the biggest grin takes over his face and she knows it's okay.

"I love you, Mommy."

Olivia and Fitz. Mommy and Daddy.

It's a whole new world.


Abby calls after dinner, when they're relaxing on the sofa. Henry has gone out for the evening with a few colleagues, leaving them alone in the house. It's cold outside and the fire is lit, filling the living room with a warm glow. Olivia is almost asleep against Fitz's shoulder, lulled by the excellent meal and the beat of his heart.

"Who is it?" she asks as he passes her phone.

"Abby."

"Mm. Hey, Abs."

"Hey. So, I have some news. About Fitz's… predicament."

Instantly, she's awake. They've been waiting over a week to hear from her; all they've had is the occasional question and then brief updates saying she's still working on it.

"Ok. I'm putting you on speaker."

"Hi, Abby."

"Hey. I think I might have found it. The dirt on your wife."

Fitz meets her gaze, stunned. It was always a longshot. Could it really be about to pay off? Might all this trouble soon be over? "Wow," he breathes, suddenly tense. "Thank you. What is it?"

"Well, you asked me to find out if any of the junior staff at her firm have any complaints against her, anything substantial you could use."

"…And?"

"I found something better. The guy she slept with."

He exhales slowly, clearly taken aback. Olivia feels her pulse start to race. "How?"

"Well, I didn't think I knew anyone who works for her, but I went back to my graduating class and spent a while on LinkedIn. Turns out, one of the men in my year is actually a paralegal there. We weren't friends before but, after a few beers last weekend, we are now. His name is Tom."

"Is he the guy?" Fitz asks incredulously. He's on the edge of his seat.

"No. He's not. But now we're buddies, I've been asking him all sorts of questions. It turns out, the Saturday your wife supposedly slept with this colleague, most of the staff were in all day. There was a company audit the following week and they all got paid overtime to work - the senior associates included."

"So she spent the day with this guy?"

"I thought she might have, yes. Tom was there, but he doesn't remember anything unusual. He left about four PM but several other staff stayed later. So, I got him to sneak into the administration office on Monday night and print a list of all the electronic logs from that day - you know, the times each person clocked in and out. They have a system where they have to swipe through the electronic gates on the ground floor of the building. It's for fire safety, I think."

"And?" Olivia can barely wait for this story to get to its conclusion. It's like something out of a spy movie.

"Everyone left by seven, except Melody Grant and a junior attorney called Jonathan Miers. They swiped out after nine o'clock, within five minutes of each other. It's possible they met up later; it's also possible that he's not the guy and it's completely unrelated. But… I'm wondering if they actually did it in the office."

Fitz's hand finds hers and squeezes hard. After the events of today, all the emotions stirred up by the visible evidence of her pregnancy, she can see how desperate he is to finally put an end to his marriage. Suddenly, everything has become real. "So what now?"

"So, I contacted him."

"And?"

"Do you want or good news or the bad news?"

Olivia grimaces. "The bad news?"

"He's leaving the country next weekend."

"Right." Their eyes meet; hopeful, uncertain, frightened. What now? "And the good news?"

"We're going on a date next Friday night."


To be continued...