n. A claim or assertion that someone has done something, typically one made without proof.
"My mother will be harder to fool than my dad." Fitz stood in front of the floor length mirror in the ensuite, adjusting the cuffs of his white dress shirt.
"I don't think we exactly fooled your dad," Olivia pointed out, her voice muffled slightly as it travelled from the other side of the doorway.
"You had him eating out of the palm of your hand. His comments had nothing to do with not believing us and everything to do with his wanting to fuck you." Fitz reentered the room, a smirk playing across his lips at the sight of Olivia struggling to drag the zipper up the back of her dress.
Olivia made a face, dancing about as she stretched her arm, trying in vain to reach that little piece of metal. A blush covered her cheeks as Fitz rested a hand on her hip, steadying her as his other slowly dragged the zipper upward. Biting her lip, she quickly placed distance between them - practically jumping from the way his hand lingered against the nape of her neck. She made a show of snapping her earrings into place.
"Your dad was plenty occupied with Barbie," Olivia scoffed, reaching for her clutch on the corner of the dresser.
"That feels a bit like an insult to Barbie."
"You're defending Barbie?" From the corner of her eye, she noted he was standing in front of the floor length mirror, adjusting the lapels of his suit jacket.
"To be clear: I'm defending the plastic, Mattel toy - not my father's plastic toy."
"That was…weirdly feministically misogynistic." Olivia frowned, shaking her head.
"That's one hell of an oxymoron." He took one last look in the mirror before gesturing toward the door. "And I promise I'm not a misogynist."
"Sounds like something a misogynist would say." The twinkle in her eye and snort of laughter was enough to let him know that she was joking as she ducked through the door he held open.
The ride to the small, family-owned restaurant on the outskirts of the city was filled with much of the same banter that had worked its way into their conversations over the last few days. At one point, she had earned a full, head tilted back, hearty laugh from him and he'd had her in such a fit that she was afraid her mascara had started to run when her eyes had. The jovial mood diminished somewhat when the rented car pulled into the parking lot of the expensive looking restaurant.
"Be yourself," Fitz advised, squeezing her hand before quickly pulling away as the car stopped, as if even he were surprised he had done such a thing.
Olivia nodded, swallowing as she glanced out the doorway and noticed the graying brunette standing tall beside Jerry. No wonder Fitz was so damn tall. And gorgeous. Those looks definitely came from his mom. Her staring was interrupted by Fitz opening her door, extending his hand toward her. With a small, grateful smile, she placed her hand in Fitz's and allowed him to help her from the car, practically leaning into him when he didn't let go.
For the second time since this charade began, Olivia felt inferior meeting one of the prominent women in Fitz's life. Este Grant was stunning. And more than a little intimidating. She stood at the bottom of the stairs leading to the restaurant as though she owned them.
Olivia's heart sank to the depths of her stomach at the smile that Este gave when Fitz introduced them - one that didn't reach her eyes.
At their table, Olivia's stomach continued to churn as Este took the seat to her left. Fitz's reassuring pat on the back of her hand did little to chase away her nervousness. She had nothing to prove to Fitz's parents - not really. At the end of the day, if this charade didn't work out, then it didn't work out. Fitz would shoulder most of the backlash - she wasn't important enough to hate.
Yet she still felt an insane need to gain Este Grant's approval.
It was insane.
She muddled her way through dinner, calling on long forgotten mannerisms. Holdouts from what felt like a lifetime ago of portraying the picture perfect daughter for her father's mad grab at power. And she almost succeeded until:
"For a newly engaged couple, there is a lot of distance between the two of you."
Olivia frowned at Este's raised brow and slight smirk - the arrogant pride that seemed to waft from the woman like bad perfume.
"Would you prefer I stick my tongue down her throat?" Fitz was quick to retort, patting Olivia's hand.
"Ah. So you aren't afraid to touch one another." Este looked pointedly at their hands.
"Mom," Fitz's tone was full of warning.
"Relax, Fitzgerald." Este reached for her wine glass, sipping delicately and swallowing slowly before continuing: "It was an observation. A bit of critique to consider for future events. No one is going to believe this charade if you're always distant with one another. Though I would assume someone with Miss Pope's talents would know that."
"I don't like the insinuation, mother. Olivia is nervous. We're both nervous. Apparently for good reason," Fitz mumbled, reaching for Olivia's hand once more. This time, he didn't let go.
"There are mistakes I would never wish you to make, Fitzgerald." The fleeting glance at her husband following those words may have gone unnoticed by the men at the table so brief was it, but Olivia felt her cheeks flush with guilt at the heavy insinuation carried by that look.
"Mom -"
"I can't promise that mistakes won't be made," Olivia surprised herself, and from the looks of it Fitz as well, when she squeezed his hand before uttering words she genuinely hoped would comfort the older woman. "We're only human. But we will do our best to avoid those mistakes."
Fitz's gaze flitted between Olivia and his mother, a quizzical expression marring his features at the look of understanding that seemed to pass between the two women. At length, Este nodded and, in a move that seemed to surprise Fitz as much as Olivia, Fitz lifted Olivia's hand and brushed his lips gently against her knuckles, the meaning of the look he gave her clear:
Thank you for avoiding that crisis.
As awkward as dinner had been, Olivia found it slightly more awkward after when she was once more alone with Fitz in their rental car. Tension hung heavily between the two on that ride. Both were unwilling to discuss the handholding that had taken place over dessert and lasted until Fitz had led her to the car. They certainly were not going to discuss how he had kissed her hand when she had attempted to put his mother's worries at ease.
Or so Olivia had resolutely decided for the both of them until they were standing awkwardly in the middle of the hotel room. This, this would not do.
"You were right. Your mom is tough." The corner of her mouth curled upward in a lopsided smile as she stepped out of her heels.
"You held your own." And just like that, he breathed the breath he had seemed to be holding and shrugged out of his suit jacket, slinging it across the back of the hated sofa.
With that, the proverbial olive branch had been extended and the two carried on with their banter as they went through the process of preparing for bed. A process that was soon hindered by Olivia's struggle to unzip her dress and, in a reenactment from earlier, soon found Fitz with a hand on her hip as he dragged the zipper down her back, revealing her smooth skin and suspicious lack of bra.
"Thank you," Olivia whispered, clutching the top of her dress close to her chest and turning to look at Fitz.
"Yeah." He swallowed, drawing Olivia's attention to his full lips and, for a second, she imagined what it would be like to kiss them - without some individual or camera nearby necessitating the performance.
And, because as she had informed Fitz's mother - she was only human, she soon found her heart winning out in the battle against her brain to find out just what it would be like to kiss him here, in their hotel room, and no audience in sight.
Swallowing hard, she stood on the tips of her toes and moved her hands to his shoulders, uncaring that they were no longer providing support to hold her dress in place, and hesitated for the slightest of moments, giving him the opportunity to pull away.
He didn't.