(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 5: "Naturally"

The knock at the door startles me and I near it cautiously. My hand dances against the knob as I pull it open slowly. "Oh," I say, opening the door wider, "I wasn't expecting you, Lord Lavenham."

My London lawyer smiles cordially as he steps closer and holds out his hand. "Mrs. Richards, I believe I've asked you, several times, to dispense with the formality and call me 'Colin'."

His hand is warm and I smile, stepping aside. "Won't you come in, Colin?" He nods and passes by, entering the suite. I lead him into the small sitting room, gesturing to the Queen Anne chairs by the crackling fireplace. It's an unseasonably chilly summer, with gray skies and rain occupying my days and nights. "Would you like anything?"

"No, no," he insists, standing next to the armchair. I watch him for a long moment, noticing the sheaf of papers in his hand for the first time. "I've come-"

"The divorce papers," I sigh, shivering despite the warmth in the room. I look up slowly and meet his eyes. They're compassionate as he slowly holds them out to me. "So soon."

"I assumed you would want to see them right away." The papers slip through his fingers as I take them.

"Yes," I murmur, marveling at the heft. Who would have thought the documents would weigh so much? The answer comes a moment later: Gregory would. "Has Gregory received them?"

"By now, yes."

I inhale sharply as I nod, the image of my husband coming to my mind. I picture him, sitting alone in his study with the papers on his lap. Maybe a glass of scotch in his hand. As much as he might want to say otherwise, I wasn't the only one who retreated into the comforting embrace of alcohol during our marriage. But, I can't say things like that anymore: our marriage, my husband. As soon as I sign these papers, we are finished. Forever.

"Mrs. Richards?"

I look up, a sad smile dancing on my lips. "If I'm to call you Colin, don't you think it's only fair for you to call me 'Olivia'?"

Two small dimples appear in his cheeks as he grins. "I suppose so." I gesture to the armchairs and sit, my jelly legs giving beneath me. The papers flutter as my hand trembles and Colin leans forward, reaching out to steady them. "It's going to be alright," he says.

With a sharp inhale, I confess in a hushed whisper, "I don't think I'm as confident as you."

I turn back to the papers, wondering if Gregory's feeling as hesitant as me when Colin asks, "Will you sign them?"

I look up slowly, feeling as if I've been exposed. "Wh- why would you ask that?"

His face falls, the firelight dancing on his thick brown hair. "I ask because you look like a woman whose heart is breaking."

I sit back, my heart racing. I've always worn too much of my heart on my sleeve. Gregory always said he knew what I was thinking just by looking at me. That came after years of sharing my life, my bed, my heart. He knows everything about me and I know everything about him. We would've been perfect. Life just got in the way. And, Colin knows almost every sorted detail about my life with Gregory and what led to this moment. "It's been breaking for years, Colin." I look down at the papers, my voice tight as I say, "Though it may now have finally broke for good. May I have your pen?"

As he reaches into his coat's pocket, he asks, "Are you sure you don't want to review them? I don't mind taking you through."

I shake my head and hold out my hand. I just want it over with, before I lose all my nerve and admit it rips my heart out to sign. "I trust that you and Charles have gotten it correct." My fingers wrap around his gold pen and the nib scratches against the paper as I sign my name. Gregory's lawyer has signed by proxy for him, so it's done. Our marriage is over and a part of me wishes that I felt something. But I'm numb, except for the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. I look up slowly and hold the papers and pen out.

"Are you going to be alright?" he asks quietly, searching my face.

"I'm not going to try to kill myself again, if that's what you're asking," I murmur. His face turns and in an instant, I realize that's exactly what he was asking. I shrink back, curling into the impersonal embrace of the chair. "But, thank you for your concern."

He nods, tucking the pen away and folding the papers up. He clears his throat and looks up, asking, "Would you like to go to dinner?"

I meet his gaze, my eyebrow arched. "Dinner?"

He blushes, his cheeks flushed to a robust shade of pink. "It's getting late, so I thought you might be hungry. And, I- I think you need a friend, Olivia, and you don't have any in London."

He's right. London may have been my first home, but Sunset Beach was my everything for the last twenty-five years. The friends I used to have here are scattered with the wind. My parents are dead and my only other relative, my cousin Andrew, is on holiday in the Virgin Islands with his wife. "Yes, I'm alone." After several moments of silence, I sigh, "Again."

"But, not naturally, I hope?"

The forgotten song from my youth waltzes through my mind as I reply, "I hope not. Can I let you know?"

He nods solemnly. "So, I take it that you won't be joining me this evening?" I shake my head and something that looks like regret, or pity, flashes in his eyes. I can't be sure which. "You will let me know if you ever change your mind and would like some company?" he asks as he stands, smoothing his waist coat before he buttons his suit coat.

"Yes," I say softly as he takes my hand, squeezing it gently.

"Do take care of yourself, Olivia."

I nod, letting my hand linger in his for an extra moment, savoring the contact with another person. Even if it was with my divorce attorney.

I'm on my way down the stairs when I hear it. The baby's gurgle echoes in the quiet house and I stop, gripping the railing. Cautiously, I lean over, catching my daughter's shadow as she walks the fussy newborn around the living room. With a frown, I continue walking and smooth the lapels of my suit coat. As I pass through the foyer, my eyes turn up to the second floor, hoping Annie would have the good sense to stay asleep and out of Caitlin's sight. "Good morning, Princess," I say, forcing a half-smile to my lips for her benefit.

Caitlin looks up, dark smudges beneath her eyes. "Morning, Daddy," she sighs, leaning in to kiss my cheek.

"What's wrong?" I ask as she stifles back a yawn.

"Oh, nothing. I mean, not really. It's just-"

"Just what? Is everything alright? Do you need money?"

She shakes her head. "No, nothing like that. I'm just…exhausted. Trey is up every two hours. And, half the time, I don't know if it's because he's hungry, wet, fussy, or all of the above." She clutches the baby to her chest as she asks, "How did you and Mom do it with me?"

I stiffen at the mention of Olivia and watch as my daughter sits on the sofa, cradling the baby. A flash of irritation goes through me as she looks up, her eyes wide as she waits for my reply. Olivia should be here to help her, the way Barbara came to help after we had Caitlin. "Well," I begin, keeping my voice even, "you were an easy baby. You would sleep for six hours at a stretch, sometimes longer."

"Six hours," she marvels, smoothing the pale blue receiving blanket. "I would give anything for six whole hours." She giggles, caressing the baby's plump cheek with her finger. "Remember when I was in high school? I would sleep until noon on the weekends and you always said I was wasting my day."

I chuckle and stand over her, watching them. "Things change," I say simply as the baby's dark blue eyes turn up to me. In an instant, they're Olivia's and I flinch. "He looks like you when you were a baby."

She looks up nervously and I'm about to ask if something else is bothering her when she says, "Do you think so? Cole was saying he thought he saw some of himself in the baby, but I don't see it. I mean, Trey doesn't even have his dimples."

"Thank God Trey takes after our side of the family."

Caitlin nods weakly and reaches out, laying the baby in the wicker Moses basket. She stands and looks at me, suddenly grinning sweetly. I know that face. She wants something. "You do need money, don't you? Caity, you can just ask-"

"Daddy! I don't need money. Cole and I live a simple life, but we don't want for anything." I nod, not believing that, but also not willing to have that argument again with her. "But, I did want to tell you something."

I steel myself, unsure of what to expect. With Deschanel's influence, I no longer know what's going to come out of my daughter's mouth next. "Go on."

"Well, Cole and I were talking last night about Trey. He's almost four months old." I nod, wondering where this is going. "And, we decided that we want Trey to be baptized at Saint Philip's next month."

I nod and let several beats pass. "And?"

Her eyes fall and suddenly, we've reached the perilous crossing. "We want our families to be there. Elaine, Paula, Sean, you-"

And, in a flash, I understand. "Caitlin-"

"And Mom."

I sigh, shaking my head. "Your mother ran away."

"Daddy, don't be unfair."

"Unfair?" I hiss, mindful of the half-asleep baby laying just a few feet away. "Caitlin, your mother abandoned this family."

She folds her arms across her chest and raises her chin, channeling the very composure of her mother. "She hasn't abandoned us. Sean and I speak to her twice a week. She wants us to come visit her in London."

The news washes over me like an ocean wave, salt water stinging the wounds of my fractured heart. Caitlin's right. It was never the children Olivia left behind, it was only me. With a deep sigh, I suggest, "So, you want me to play nice in the sandbox if your mother shows up next month."

Her chin juts defiantly, her eyes sparkling. "She'll come," she insists. "I know she will. She's Trey's grandmother."

I nod, tired of this conversation. "Fine, Princess." I reach out, cupping her shoulders as I press a kiss to her forehead. A moment later, she wraps her arms around me, squeezing tight. I hug her back as she sighs, leaning away to look in my eyes. "What?"

"Are you alright?" she murmurs, watching me carefully. "You look…tired."

I think of Annie, the rumpled bed sheets, and the sleepless nights. Shrugging, I simply say, "Things have been busy."

"But, you are taking care of yourself, aren't you?" Suddenly, she's a little girl again, needing reassurance and I nod. With a sigh of relief, she grins and says, "Maybe I'll bring Trey over on Sunday afternoon and we can have lunch? I'm sure Sean will be free too."

Since Olivia left, she's gone overboard to make sure that I'm alone as little as possible. My daughter's been a constant presence at the house, even wrangling her brother in for support. But, they don't realize I'm not Olivia. I'm not going to crack at another hurdle life's thrown at me. "Make sure to let Rose know," I say as I reach for the carafe of coffee and a mug on the bar. "She'll put something together."

The doorbell rings as Caitlin glances down at her watch. "I will. But, we need to run. Trey has a check-up in less than an hour." She kisses my cheek and scoops up the basket. "Say goodbye to Poppop, Trey."

I look down, momentarily envious of my daughter's healthy infant. Slowly, I reach out and let the baby latch onto my finger. His blue eyes gaze back at me for a long moment before his face dissolves into something I swear is a smile. "Goodbye, Trey," I murmur before I look up at the sound of approaching footsteps. Rose is leading Harry in and I see the bundle of papers in his hand. "Have a good day," I say to my daughter, watching as she leaves. Rose follows her out and I stare for a long moment at my lawyer. "The divorce papers?"

He nods and holds them out, but I shake my head. I don't want them. Not yet. "I just received them," he explains as I push my mug of coffee aside.

"It's all in order?"

"Yes." He pauses for a brief moment and then continues, "You know, Gregory, I thought it would be more complex than this."

"Did you?"

"The division of assets makes some people insane. I have to say that you and Olivia have had one of the simplest divorces I've ever seen, given the amount of money that was at stake."

I reach out for the papers, clenching them in my hand as I turn away, saying, "I'll courier them over once they're signed." As I leave the living room, I hear Harry call out, "I don't mind waiting."

But, I mind. I mind very much. I look over my shoulder and shake my head, leaving him to find his own way out. I walk down the quiet hall and open the door to my study. I toss the papers onto my desk as I walk to the bar, pouring a generous splash of scotch into the crystal glass. I finish it in one swallow and pour more before I turn back to the desk. I unfold the papers, the words blurring together. There's no need to read them. Harry's taken care of everything.

I flip to the last page, seeing Olivia's proxy signature. For a moment, I'm struck by the simplicity of it, the Times New Roman font typed on the bottom of the page next to Charles Lakin's very real signature. It doesn't do it justice, I realize as I remember the three months I spent fiendishly studying her signature on credit card receipts.

Reaching for my pen, I look down at the empty line reserved for my signature. The scotch is smooth down my throat as I finish the glass and I quickly sign my name. I feel nothing but the warmth in my chest from the alcohol as I shove the pen and papers away.

It's finished. And, I'm alone. Again.

I push the heavy curtains aside and look out my window. There's a view of Hyde Park that most would kill for, but so far, it's done little to impress me. Beyond the park, lights twinkle in the dark night, like diamonds against black velvet. It's quiet and I stand still, embracing it like a shroud. With a sigh, I murmur, "Alone. Again."

The sad song has been with me since Colin left hours ago. I sat in the armchair, watching the fire die down until the faintly smoldering embers finally lost their spark. I don't know how much time went by, but when I looked up, night had fallen and I was surrounded in the total darkness I so deserve.

With a sigh, I turn away from the window and leave the curtains pushed back. Silver moonlight filters in, letting me see the outlines of things in the room. I might regret it in the morning when the sun comes up, but for now, I prefer it. I strip, replacing my clothes with a nightgown. The night maid has turned down the bed and I stand for a moment, stupidly gazing at it. His and her sets of pillows are plumped against the tall headboard. With a frown, I walk around to what would be Gregory's side of the bed.

I gaze at them for a long moment, tears stinging my eyes. The reality of my actions hits me and I cover my mouth to muffle the heartbroken sobbing. It would never be Gregory's side of the bed again. The simple realization is like a knife to my gut, but I remember Naples. I remember him and Annie, their hushed conversations in the hall and lobby. I remember the way he looked at me, furious in the hotel room as we argued. I remember the way he quietly denied me his forgiveness.

Trembling, I brush the tears from my face and scoop up the pillows he would have used. I stand there, hugging them for a long moment and my still aching arms have something, finally, to cradle. But like our child and our marriage, nothing lasts forever. Gently, like sand through an hourglass, the pillows fall from my arms and land at my feet. I don't need them. I step over them and crawl into the bed, slipping beneath the covers. After a moment, I turn onto my right side, my hand outstretched to the empty side of the bed.

The sheets are cold. Luxurious, but cold. The Dorchester thinks of everything, providing every amenity and consenting to every request their guests make. But, how do they solve the problem of a cold bed for their lonely and brokenhearted guest in the Windsor Suite?

With a sigh, a tear curls around my nose as I whisper, "Alone again. Naturally."

A/N: The song referenced throughout this chapter is Gilbert O'Sullivan's "Alone Again (Naturally)".