AN: Thanks for the lovely comments, especially from the fellow Aussies here, it feels like getting a smile and nod from a local stranger on the street. I am only a few chapters ahead of what I am publishing at the moment, which I hate, because, PRESSURE, and I think this is going to have to take a back seat while I do some heavy plot, pacing and language reconstruction of Sufficient Encouragement. However, my head is full of this one, because I'm spinning wheels about a particular significant plot point and cannot get traction anywhere. So, when I work it out, I'll keep going, but I can't promise weekly updates! Thanks for the general positivity though. This really is a lovely community :)
Chapter 13
Sunday afternoon, I'm nursing an iced latté on the veranda of the Dome in Victoria Park when I see her walk across the street behind a bus that just took off from a stop. I'm instantly annoyed that she didn't ask me to pick her up. Why wouldn't she ask me to pick her up? I'm still frowning at my latte when she drops her book bag on the floor by my seat, which I immediately pick up and hang on the corner of my chair.
"I would've picked you up, you know. Why didn't you call? You don't have to take the bus."
"Good morning, Fitzwilliam."
"Why don't you call me Darcy?"
"Because your name is Fitzwilliam? No? What about Fitz? Ok! That face says it all. Huh, you don't like Fitz. Well, I'll experiment with a few others then, but Darcy is what everyone calls you and that is just plain boring. Watch this space." When I do nothing but stare open-mouthed at her, she continues. "So, are you usually this much of a bear in the morning, Darce, or did you not get your beauty sleep last night? I just woke up 30 minutes ago and I'm starving, so I'm going to order some food and when I come back, I might answer your questions." She rummages in the book bag, and I turn and grip her fingers to stay her. "I am a bear, I just would've picked you up if I knew. And I'm buying." The immediate relief I feel at her closeness washes over me and I pull her closer, kissing her wrist as I draw her into my lap.
"Aw, Fitz – sorry, umm, Wills?" She lifts my bowed head, pressing her forehead into mine. "Are you ok?" I lift her with me as I stand, "I'm going to buy you breakfast and then we will talk."
"Are you going to put me down first?"
"Do I have to?"
"Well, can you reach your wallet in this position?"
"You can. It's in my back pocket." I smile like the rake that I have become.
"Put me down, Freak. Go get me a toasted ham and cheese croissant and a large hot chocolate and I will wait here."
"Is freak an appropriate term for someone with my disorder?"
"Just trying out alternatives to Fitzy. Oh my gosh, you are such a bear! Go!"
I put her down and make sure I touch every part of her I can reach as I settle her into the café chair, pressing a kiss into her neck until I feel her pulse race beneath my lips. I'm not sure I can ever walk away. "Go, Bear! Nope, too Gryllsy." She laughs into my shoulder as she nudges my face away, running her hands through my hair. "Feed me, Seymour!"
By the time I get back, she is flicking through the paper I had left on the table. "I didn't figure you for a Sunday Times guy. You have The Australian or The Wall Street Journal written all over you. But it looks a little too pristine to be the café copy?"
"No, I bought it this morning, but you're right. I subscribe to the Oz online and it comes with the Journal as a package. Who reads actual newspapers anymore? Anyway, I needed to talk to you about something in the Times, otherwise my recommendation is to stay away from it. You'll actually get dumber if you read that every weekend."
She laughs, tells me I am the worst kind of snob and then proceeds to eviscerate the page 4 article on education funding in the university sector. "You think I'm a snob?!" I interject, when she pauses to take a breath mid-rant. I'm totally going to marry her. I let her keep flipping pages, while I decide how to break the news to her that she is in the newspaper today. She's chortling her way through the Opinion section, picking up the typos and grammatical errors, and begins reading the editorial aloud in the best valley girl impersonation I have heard since Clueless, when our order arrives. It's the movie I put up the least resistance to when it's Georgie's turn to pick. That and Bring It On. I'm laughing when I tell her so.
"You are full of surprises, Fitzwilliam Darcy," she says around a mouthful of croissant. The paper has been forgotten while we swap favourite movies and then books, before we move on to music. The whole time we're talking, I feel every incidental touch when her knee grazes my leg, or when she grabs my hand or my shoulder to emphasise a point. She wasn't wrong when she said she was naturally affectionate, and she doesn't realise how much I'm affected until I pull her towards me and kiss her. Hard. She was mid-sentence talking about one of her favourite bands and I just grabbed her. I break the kiss, my eyes a little crazy and my chest pounding. It takes me a few moments to regain the power of speech.
"I'm sorry, that was really awkward."
She reaches out and places her palm flat on my chest, feeling the pounding of my heart. Her brow furrows as she studies me. "Well, as third kisses go, I can't complain. The execution was pretty good, timing was a little off, though. What do I need to know?"
"I feel it everywhere, every time you touch me." She instantly pulls away, but I grab her hand and keep it close to my chest. "Don't stop, I don't want you to be different. I need you to be exactly who you are, everything about you is just what I need, and I'm sure it will get easier with time. I don't think I would cope if I thought you had to tiptoe around me." She crushes my shirt in her small fist as her eyes narrow mischievously. "Ok, while this bodes well for me in the realm of instant gratification, I think perhaps you need to acclimate yourself with reciprocal gestures that might siphon off the intensity. So, rather than go from no touches to passionate open-mouthed kisses in the middle of a conversation, how about you hold my hand, or squeeze my leg, or do that cheek brushing thing every now and then? Whaddya reckon? Baby steps?"
She demonstrates the innocent gestures one at a time but when she brushes my cheek I turn to kiss her palm, lacing my fingers through hers as I do so. She laughs softly, "I am not going to complain about the quality of your kissing, but time and place, Darce, time and place." I keep her hand in mine and bring them both to rest on my knee, immediately content and in control again. She has to shuffle her chair closer for comfort, which only pleases me.
We sit together in silence for a time while she sips her hot chocolate. She is content to people watch while I am content to watch her. I clear the table a little with my free hand and open up the paper to the social pages. It takes her a moment to register the pictures and she doesn't react openly, though I feel her hand stiffen.
"Well, my bag is now officially missing one cat. I don't think I've ever looked at this page, so I hope it's safe to say nobody I know personally will ever see this, though maybe my sisters... I'm still not sure how I feel about this, though." She won't look at me, she just keeps staring at the photos. A small smile appears. "So, everyone knew about Caroline's little obsession with you. Actually, that's not funny, that's really sad. Does she read these pages?"
"She checks the Times Social Diary blog every morning, first thing. I haven't spoken to Bing in months, but I got a text out of the blue this morning because she saw the pictures posted on the blog and woke him up. She was not happy. It was good to catch up with him though. We've both been busy." She ponders this for a moment. "You haven't spoken to him for months? Like, since last summer?"
"Yeah, about then, I guess. I mean, yeah, last summer. I hadn't seen Bing since the last time I saw you. It's not that unusual for us," I add, somewhat defensively. "He told me things didn't go well with Jane, and Caz was a big part of that, though he did say he let it sort of fade away." I am talking around some truths that I want to avoid but she seems to know and is just waiting me out.
Eventually I tell her what I told Bing, and how Caz took an instant dislike to both Jane and Elizabeth, but that my only concern was making sure Bing was fully aware of what he was getting into with Jane. She needed some context, so I had to tell her a little bit about what happened after my mum died. Apart from arching a brow, which told me that conversation was being tabled for another time, she took it well, and didn't blame me for my opinions or for the way the relationship ended. There is silence for a while, but she doesn't pull away, letting me put my arm around here as she relaxes into me.
"Is there any hope for Jane?"
"Did she really like Bing?"
"Yeah, I think she did. Not sure why, but I think he somehow got under her skin in a way no one has since…" She trails off, wincing a little as she realises she had begun to break a confidence. "It's ok, I don't need to know the details. If it helps, I know he regrets how it ended, or rather that it ended. He misses seeing her but doesn't know how to approach her again or if he'll be well received."
"I don't want to meddle in Jane's relationships, but if he needs a reason to call, feel free to tell him Jane is the kindest person in the world, and even if she's not that interested anymore, she'd never be cruel. I don't think it's fair to give him any more hope than that."
"So, are we going to talk about your face in the news?"
"Well, it's not front-page news, so let's not make it bigger than it is. Big fish, small pond, and all that. I will have to talk to the Gardiners though." She is biting her lower lip and contemplating her fingernails with furrowed brows when she turns to me, "Are you serious about this thing we're doing? I mean, I don't want to make more of this than it really is, but I think, given who you are, and all that, I don't think I want any more publicity until we are serious. Is that even a fair question? No. It is not, so don't answer that!" She shushes me with a finger to my lips, which I just kiss because I can. She smiles and rolls her eyes. Her eyes become unfocused, and she starts speaking softly, almost to herself. I have to lean closer and closer to hear her.
"Do you get where I am going here? I mean, my career is dependent on privacy, people need to know they can come and see me and not have it splashed on the evening news, or even the socialite tabloid pages. The Gardiners have a pretty high profile in the psych world in Perth (tinier pond, slightly bigger fish, right?) because they are really good at what they do, but they're not therapists to the stars, you know? Georgiana is their highest profile client and ok, my original concerns weren't at all about publicity but were all about our personal history. I'm just not sure I can trust my judgment when it comes to you, and I'm sorry to have this conversation on what I guess is our first date? Is that what this is? I feel more attached to you than I should, and I'm worried about the fact that I'm not really worried about this. We are heading straight into a classic dependency/co-dependency scenario and while I know I am pretty together, and I'll be ok if this thing doesn't work out, odds are against us already really, let's be brutally honest - you, on the other hand are entering seriously uncharted waters too, with some sizable baggage dangling off the port bow. Hell, maybe I'm over-thinking things, but I can't really be your therapist and your girlfriend. Pretty sure you don't want that either, although it helps that I am not clueless about your issues. Girlfriend! I said, girlfriend?! Gah! Are we even there yet? This is so unfair to you, I'm sorry – I'm thinking out loud. Umm, what do I need? Ok, I need some facts, some perspective." She finally looks up at me, bumping into my nose, surprised at my proximity. "How often do you end up in the society pages?"
I have been actively listening throughout her external monologue and am surprised to note that I have followed her thought process pretty well. She's worried about the impact on her career - it's already impacted on one client, so it's a legitimate concern. She's worried about the impact on the rest of her personal life if things don't work out between us - again a legitimate concern but not specific to me. What is specific to me is the publicity and whether it's worth getting serious with me, given all that, if that is the cost. What is specific to me is the disorder vs the man, the therapist and the girlfriend question. But the thing I am stone cold petrified about is the fact that she is already thinking the odds are against us. I know she's right, so I take a deep breath and try to answer all the unspoken questions along with the spoken one.
"Ok, first things first. I'm not going to make promises right now. But I can only tell you that for me, this is serious. But I have nothing to compare it to." I pull her out of her seat and back onto my lap, crushing her to me. "You have no idea how happy I am that I can do this, that this is even possible for me." She curls into me and fits like a glove. "But I would like to think it has a lot to do with who you are, specifically. I don't think I could do this with anyone else, and I have already tried to forget you, so although this is early days, I have a bonafide connection with you that I am not going to give up so easily. So, if you want a label, I'm happy to go with girlfriend, straight up. And I am willing to look into seeing a therapist."
Those last words are wrung out of me slowly and painfully. "I'm not thrilled about it, but it might help me, and it willhelp you to trust me when I say I definitely do not want you to do both. It is helpful that you are more understanding of my eccentricities, because of your vocation." I swallow against the wave of nausea invoked by just the thought of seeking professional help and push on.
"To answer your question, I am not often in the society pages because I'm not often out and about, but that is a two-edged sword – when I do appear, it gets attention. I don't have a huge profile personally but the family name, the business, the scandal, all add up to unwanted attention. G is off limits because she's a minor, and I've threatened the local papers with lawsuits, but that will all end soon, and I am grateful that we seem to have kept her out of the limelight. But if this lasts longer than a week, and although my fantasy relationship with you doesn't count, it still feels longer than a week already, then, yeah, you're going to be sharing some of the attention I get. I have a pretty cold public persona, crafted on purpose and that won't change straight away, though if I had planned it, you would be the perfect person to help with that. You would totally smooth all my hard edges, make me look human again - this could be really good for the business profile!"
Her look of horror is priceless. I lift her face to mine so she can see I'm joking and then I kiss her again, to try and erase the frown lines at her brow.
