He's sitting at Zoey's favorite table looking at the restaurant door, his foot rhythmically tapping on the floor; his fingers intertwined, knuckles almost white. They walk in, their steps in sync and Zoey smiles at him.
"So, you must be wondering why I asked you to lunch-"
"You want to ask us to marry mom." She's grinning, her grandma chuckling at his shocked face. "Oh, come on, we all knew it was coming." He quirks his eyebrow and gives the girl a look, "OK, Karen might have mentioned it was coming."
"Right." He feels sucker-punched. He had a whole speech planned, every course a different line of attack; he was ready to make a pitch, but they already seemed convinced.
That is until Diane spoke. "You make her happy, so you have my blessing. But I swear to God, if she says no, and you pull something like the stunt you did last time-" And Fitz is shaking his head, ferociously, he looks like he's seizing.
"THE LAST TIME?" Zoey's about to lose her mind. "There was a last time? You asked mom?" And Diane realizes what the shaking was about, he wasn't trying to have some fun, to dance it out; it was a warning, an out – she smiles apologetically.
"Zo, it was ages ago. Before." He's smiling at her, trying to make her feel less betrayed.
"You didn't tell me. You just said you used to be friends."
"You knew we were more than that." He shoots her a knowing smile, a knowing glance.
"Yeah, but not engaged."
"Well, we weren't engaged. I asked, and she didn't say yes."
"Why not?"
"We were young, she wanted more time." She's looking at him, trying to see if he's lying, if there's more to it. She's trying to understand, wrap her head.
"But why did you break up?" And he sighs. He doesn't know what to say. Should he lie, but she might find out; or does he lay it all out?
"Zo, it was a long time ago. They were young and things… things just didn't work out." There's finality in her grandmother's voice, the same tone that Liv employs to signal the end of a discussion, a finished talk. "Why don't you go ask Alex about the specials?" It's their tradition, she knows the staff, so she doesn't mind; she doesn't think she's being handled, pushed aside.
Once she's out of earshot, "I'm sorry, I didn't know you hadn't told her."
"Liv didn't want to explain everything, so she decided it was better if she didn't know anything. She wanted her to like me and well, knowing that, she wouldn't have." He's looking at his hands, trying to hide the shame.
"She's forgiven you, you should forgive yourself too."
"I don't deserve her." There's a tone of defeat in his voice. It's his personal truth, it's the scars of the hurt, the hurt he caused her.
"You don't. But I'm her mom and I'm partial. She loves you, more than you even know, because she's still, she's a little bit afraid to show it; show everything, but she loves you. So the way you deserve her, the way you earn her is you love her back. That's all that it will take." He wants to say thank you, and I do, I love her too, but he's processing, trying to choke back the tears. And then his phone vibrates and breaks up the moment, the exchange.
"I'm so sorry, but I should really take this." And he walks out into the chilly autumn afternoon, the brisk air reaching his lungs, giving him life. "Hey, Cy, what's up?"
"Hey guys, how was your lunch?" She's standing in the kitchen, cutting up carrots for snacks; slowing down as she looks up.
"It was good, we missed you. Too bad you had that meeting." And they're both grinning. She's confused, but she just assumes it's one of their things. Like they have their movie nights on Thursdays; and they have their geography games; he also tells her stories, about places he's been, what he's seen. They have their things. Zoey drops her backpack on the floor and heads to the refrigerator dood. He walks over to Liv, gives her a quick kiss, his hands lingering. Then he leans against the counter and looks deep into her eyes; that's all she needs to know, they need to talk.
"Zo, why don't you have these instead." And she's showing a bowl of carrot sticks in her hands, taking the ice cream away. "Go do your homework and then we'll go for a walk before dinner." She looks up, her eyes darting between her mom and Fitz and she sees, she can tell something's up, so she picks up her stuff and dances off to her room.
"What's up?"
"Cy called me." She has a bad feeling about this. Cy is his boss, he calls him all the time, something's different now; something's bigger now. "James is in Syria, with MSF." She sees where this is going, she already knows it, and she's shaking her head, slowly, as if pushing the next bit away. "Liv, there's a story."
"Great. Can't he give it to someone else?"
"It's an orphanage. They're stuck in between, the kids, they can't leave. The UN can't evacuate them. It's bureaucracy and missed opportunities, while they're dying. You know how these things work. I go there, do a story, we get it in the news, the pressure, it might change something."
"Can't he call someone else? I mean for god's sake, he's the editor of one of the biggest papers in the world, I'm sure there are other people who could-"
"He needs me. They need a show pony. They need the high-profile and the human rights focus. I mean, Liv, they're all doctors, they need me. They're saving lives, they're saving kids, but they can't tell this story. Not the way it needs to be told to be heard; not so that it will impact the world." She sighs; he's right. They do need him; she knows it. "If you don't want me to go, ask me to stay, for you I'll walk away." She can't. No, she can't. It wouldn't be fair.
"It's a virtual war-zone."
"I know." He's wrapping his hands around her, whispering in her hair. "But I've been to those before." He's trying to sound playful, sound cool, but it's not helping her.
"I read reports from there every day. I read… you can't…" She's trying to fight back the tears; choke back the fear. She steps slightly out of his embrace, and looks up, analyzing his face. "You see danger, you hear danger; you run, you hide. You don't stay and fight; you don't stay and try to make it right. You run and you hide and you come home alive."
He smiles, he realized – he's the love of her life; no more questions in his mind. "So you don't want me to be a hero who saves lives."
And she steps back in, hugging him, "No, I want you to come home alive."
"How do we tell Zoey?"
"We don't. She doesn't need to know. She doesn't need to know where you'll go. She'll know you're going, but there's no need for her to worry."
"There's no need for you to worry either. I'll be fine; back in no time." He tries, tries to assure her, to ease her mind; but it makes no difference, she's terrified.
The next few days are crazy. It's packing and phone-calls; arrangements, contacts, backups. It's a mind-game, fighting the fear, letting the adrenaline in. It's a mind game that he could win, before, but he's not so sure anymore.
"That's your flight. Final call, you better go." But she's still holding on, her arms around him, her fingers gripping his sweater; her head resting next to his heart.
"Liv, will you-"
"No, don't ask me now." He looks down at her, surprised. "Zoey told me." And she can see the shock in his eyes. "She was freaked out, that I would "mess it up", her words, not mine. She just wanted to give me time." She gives him a small smile.
"But just-"
"No. We're not doing this just in case. Ask me when you're back. Ask me on a rooftop, in front of the Eiffel Tower, or in our bed; I don't care; just, just ask me when you're back."
"OK." They exchange smiles, kiss, both shutting their eyes, because they can't cry; not here, not right now. And with that he's gone. She's standing alone; silent tears leaving silver tracks on her cheeks.
It's the longest two weeks. She barely sleeps. She worries. She constantly thinks of him. He calls when he can; but it's irregular and brief; hellos and goodbyes, I Love Yous and Be safes; it's a mess. And the phone rings, her stomach an endless pit.
"Hi."
"Hi." A sigh. Relief. He's alive. Every time, there's a moment when after the ring when she thinks – it's done; he's gone. "You in Vienna?"
"Yeah. I should be home late tonight, so don't wait up." Home. It sounds so perfect. So right.
He opens the door and it's their place, their safe space. It smells the same, like cinnamon and vanilla; it smells like them; like summer; like laughter; it smells like a dream come true, like waking up in a magical world. She's on the couch, asleep; she dozed off waiting.
"Livvy.' He's kneeling next to her, softly kissing her temple; running his fingers through her hair. Her eyes flutter; the lashes trying to keep the soft light at bay.
"You're back." It's a breath. It's air reaching her lungs; fear leaving her heart. A smile that tells him everything – how much she loves him, how much she worried. "Come here." She sleepily scoots back, trying to make space for him; but it's a couch; chances are pretty slim.
"Livvy, we can't both fit."
"Yes, we can." He can't resist; not tonight. So he's slipping his shoes off, dropping his jacket to the floor and lying next to her. She's wrapping her body around him, sprawled out on top of him – they fit perfectly. For the first time in two weeks they can both sleep. And as she succumbs to dreams she mutters – "I missed your heartbeat."
He wakes up and there's a body on top of his, but it's not Liv; it's the little girl, her whole face smiling. "You're back."
"And you're in trouble for spilling our secret." And he's tickling her, she doesn't try to fight back, no, she just laughs instead. Liv's voice breaks them out of their game, alerting them to behave.
"I have to go to work. Something came up, I'm sorry. I'll try to be back as soon as I can." She gives them an apologetic smile; but truth be told, he doesn't mind – he needs the time.
It's evening. She's been gone the whole day; he's back and she's been away. She feels guilty as she's walking up to the door, but she stops in her tracks, there's a note – Meet me at the rooftop. She gets out into the open space and the scene takes her breath away.
There's a cardboard cut-out of the Eiffel Tower, propped next to their bed and there is he – leaning against the railing – looking at the city lights, looking at the stars.
"Fitz…" He turns around, a confident smile playing on his lips.
"You said to ask you on a rooftop, in front of the Eiffel Tower or in our bed and I thought I'd do you one better instead." She's speechless; it's got to be a dream, because things like this, men like him – don't exist in reality.
He walks up to her; his hand cupping her cheek – "Liv, marry me." It's not a question, there's no one knee – he knows the answer, and so does she.
"OK." And she's kissing him; it's him; it's always been him.
"I do all this, and I don't even get a yes?" He mutters teasingly between hatched breaths.
"Shut up, I'm trying to process."
So I guess it was two game-changers. The first one, clearly the engagement! I was writing this at like 7am in the library, grinning like a moron from all the fluff and getting some fairly strange looks. (Tom helped him with the bed. Tom's the doorman, if you remember from one of the early chapters, and it took them a while to take the bed apart and get it up; and I have no idea why I felt the need to share that.) Also, I really wanted Fitz to ask Zo and Liv's mom for the blessing (blame the feminist in me).
Second thing; the story and Fitz traveling and working on it, that's sort of the second big thing that will be happening in the next few chapters.
And seriously, thank you so much for your reviews, they're so amazing! I'm so excited you like this story and reading them always makes my day. So thanks!