Author's Notes: Oh shit. *smacks forehead* What have I done? *lays head on desk* Okay. This is going to be interesting.

One of the seeds I planted last chapter is going to sprout. The other one ends up being a red herring so to speak but came in handy for a nudge. If it seems the scenes are meandering...just wait. Things manifested themselves in an interesting way and I created a relationship that I intend to use later to bring our protags together much later on. I know. I'm bad, I need to stop. A random thought: one of the things that bothers me about canon is that most of the relationships are so toxic. I love bouncing characters off one another and giving canon characters good, healthy connections. Of course, there's going to be angst anywhere.

Again, for those of you wanting Olivia and Fitz to resolve their issues, don't worry, it will happen. Olitz is our final destination, but I'm taking the twisty scenic route. They're also about to see each other again after that whole kiss debacle very soon (but not in this chapter, in the next).

P.S.: "Snuggle Bunny" was the nickname for my goddaughter when she was younger. I couldn't help it. A shout out since she's partially the cause of this chapter being late. The other part was my rebounding immune system. I just passed my birthday and I spent the days leading up to and the days after getting rid of a pesky cold. Ugh. Oh well.

Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I feel awful that this has taken me so long and I hope it is enjoyable.

P.P.S.: I may have to make a flashback into a certain couple of references. You'll recognize them.

Disclaimer: Scandal and any related characters ain't mine. Any unrecognizable and/or cringe-worthy characters are mine.

Songs in This Chapter: "Say You'll Be There" by the Spice Girls, "Lean on Me" by Club Nouveau, "Everytime (Instrumental)", "Ooh La La La" by Teena Marie, "Wanna Be Startin' Somethin'" By Michael Jackson, "I Adore You" by Caron Wheeler

Five

New Year's Eve, 2014.

That night, a little bit after eight, Fitz stood on the porch at the Wolfe residence and rang the doorbell.

After the announcement of him and Rachel becoming the new partners at the firm, the day had passed in a blur. He had a vague recollection of the public relations team taking a picture of the new partners to accompany the press release and giving Quinn her rightful reward for guessing correctly. The day's vast and varied implications didn't dawn on him until this very moment while he was standing there and listening to the sounds of the party drifting toward him.

I did it, he had thought. I'm a partner now. Realizing his hard work had not gone unnoticed made him grateful rather than arrogant. He had the fleeting urge to call his father but had squelched it like one would a nagging fly. The conversation would end badly.

A dark-haired woman in blue answered the door. The frozen welcoming smile on her face had faded into astonishment at the sight of the tall man in the tuxedo in her midst. She raised her trembling left hand to her mouth, and the tanzanite, garnet & diamond wedding ring twinkled softly under the light. His expression underwent a similar change.

"Fitz?"

He blinked at the elegant woman in front him, reconciling her with his mind eye's image of Irene's tomboyish oldest daughter who had become a sister of sorts during that stage of Fitz's life after he had walked away from his domineering father for good. The last time he had seen her, he had just graduated law school, and she had dropped out of medical school and announced she was going to study culinary arts abroad.

"Jess?"

The woman's olive-hued eyes lit up and her features relaxed into a more familiar version of her welcoming smile. "It really is you. I thought Mama was joking." She stepped back to allow him inside. Once he was over the threshold, she closed the door and gave him a hug. After a moment, she stepped back to examine him at their close proximity. "Damn, Grant. You went and got all sophisticated and smooth on me. And look at that, you did your bowtie all by yourself this time. I wish I had a cigar."

"Like you should talk. Look at you. I almost didn't recognize you without the boots and large T-shirt." She chuckled and gave a small shrug. "Your dress is actually not on backwards. Did they teach you how to be a girl over across the Atlantic too?"

She nudged him good-naturedly and snorted out a laugh. "Very funny." One of the servers for the party approached her with a drink and she thanked him. "Come on. I'm sure you don't want to spend the whole party here in the foyer with me. We'll have plenty of time to catch up." She took a small sip of her drink and led him toward the party. "The twins and I'll be in town for a while. David insisted...for reasons."

"Is your husband here?" Fitz asked as he fell into step next to her.

Jessica shook her head, her happiness diminishing a tiny bit. "No, he is on assignment at the moment. He was home long enough for...certain things to happen...and then he was right back out the door." She gulped down her drink and forced a smile. "That's what I get for marrying someone in clandestine services." Wanting to shift the focus, she slanted a frown at him. "So when are you going to make an honest woman out of one of my kind?"

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling exasperatedly. "I can see your mother asking me that. I can see your stepfather asking me that. I can even see Cyrus asking me that now that he and his James have adopted their beautiful baby girl. But you, Jess? That's almost blasphemy." He pointed an accusing finger at her. "You have been bitten by the love bug and now you're trying to pass along the venom."

"What can I say? Not having my husband of seven years around for a better part of the year makes me want to be..."

"Meddlesome? Scheming? Wicked?"

"I was going to say helpful, Fitzgerald. I seem to recall some of the specimens you've brought around over the years. Remember the stalkerish one with the big teeth—what was her name? Margaret? Maleficent?"

Fitz choked out a chuckle. He had no choice but to laugh at this point; enough years had passed since the Debacle Formerly Known as Dating Millicent to render the recollection amusing instead of annoying and slightly horrifying as it had been at the time. The woman had given Jennifer Jason Leigh's character from Single White Female a run for her money. "You mean Mellie?"

Jessica raised a finger in realization. "That's the one! You dodged a bullet on that one, Grant. No pun intended."

"Of course I did. She was aiming at you, not me. That right cross was a thing of beauty."

"I'm more proud of the running tackle than the fact that I knocked out her front teeth." She lifted her glass. "Gotta love adrenaline." They walked along in silence for a few beats. Head at a thoughtful tilt, Jessica admitted, "Believe it or not, I figured you would've gotten with Olivia Pope eventually. Isn't that funny?"

The same jolt from earlier hit him and he quietly sucked in a breath. He had forgotten that Jessica had met Olivia Pope at his law school graduation. The aftermath of that moment had been immortalized in photo; the picture of him jubilant in a cap and gown sandwiched by Cyrus, Jessica, Olivia and Harrison used to sit framed on a shelf. He had replaced it with the photo from the same day of only him and Jessica goofily posing for the camera. There was another with him, Olivia, and Harrison, but it too was relegated to a shoebox on a high shelf in his closet.

Of course, it didn't help that Fitz had slipped Olivia into conversation every now and again. He had realized, after his months-long examination of the past, that he had been smitten by Olivia for longer than he cared to admit.

"I didn't think you remembered her," Fitz admitted quietly.

"Why wouldn't I remember her? She came up in pretty much every remotely vital conversation you and I've had in the past fifteen years." She paused thoughtfully. "Up until a few months ago..." She slowly turned her head to look at him reproachfully. "Fitzgerald Thomas."

He met her stare head-on. "Jessica Catherine."

"What did you do?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "I hate that you automatically assumed that I did something."

Jessica gave a dry chuckle. "Grant. Come on. It's me. I pegged you walking in on your asshole of a father banging his mistress within ten minutes of meeting you." She gulped down more of her drink. Fitz furrowed his brow at the discomfiture that flitted across her face. His mind amid the jolt it had gotten from Jessica's mention of Olivia Pope was attempting to come to a conclusion, but it had not dawned yet. "How badly did you screw it up?"

A spurt of defensiveness rose inside him. "I didn't screw—" Jessica gave him a bland stare that was damn good. She must have learned it from her husband. Fitz huffed out a breath. "Okay. Fine. I so I may have messed things up enough that we're not speaking to one another."

"Mhmm. You tried to take things to the next level, didn't you? And she wasn't ready?" Fitz looked distinctly uncomfortable as they hovered outside the double doors that led to the spacious den. She shook her head in disapproval. She stood there silently a while trying to find the right words to say without alienating him completely, eyes sweeping the room. She caught her mother's eye and gave a tiny wave. Brightening, Irene excused herself and began to make her way across the room. Jessica abruptly turned to Fitz and said, "I would yell at you but my mother and your boss is coming." She placed her hand on his shoulder. "But later. I'll rip you a new one. Later."

"I'll be waiting," he said wryly.

"Bring some Preparation H. And a doughnut," she quipped out of the side of her mouth.

They both stood at attention and smiled as Irene came onto the scene. Irene smiled back until she spied the glass in her daughter's grasp. "Jessica Catherinec" she began in a chiding tone.

"It's ginger ale, Mama," Jessica insisted in exasperation. "I was feeling a tiny bit nauseous."

Irene immediately softened and stepped forward to cup her daughter's face. Jessica's eyes flicked in Fitz's direction and he tried not to grin. She hated being babied something fierce, which made it amusing for Fitz to observe. "Oh, darling. You know it'll pass. In a couple of months you'll be back to normal."

The answer came to Fitz in a flash. "Wait. Jess, are you...?" She raised an eyebrow when he trailed off and glanced around. He made a rounded belly gesture in lieu of saying it aloud.

Jessica made a face. "Maybe." Pause. It was his turn to give her a bland stare. "Okay. Fine. Yes I am. My husband was locked and loaded and planted a good one in me before he left. Happy now?" Irene, wide-eyed and mortified, began to scold her for being vulgar when Cyrus and his James came up, having just arrived themselves. Jessica took the opportunity and ran into the end zone. Irene eyed her back with a disapproving frown. Fitz squelched the urge to gape in astonishment. "James! Uncle Cyrus!"

"There she is!" Cyrus announced heartily. Jessica kissed both of James Novak's cheeks before turning to her uncle of sorts. She laughed when Cyrus swung an arm around her shoulders and kissed her on the forehead. "Now if we could just make that husband of yours appear..." She groaned in protest and he shook his head vigorously. "No, no. I don't want to hear it, sweetie. Stop making excuses for that man. If he really wanted to be home, he would be."

"Cyrus," James warned. He gave Jessica an apologetic look while Cyrus gave an eyeroll. "You'll have to forgive your uncle, he's decided not to start his resolution of being less cantankerous until after the clock strikes midnight." The apologetic look transformed into concern as Jessica went distinctly green. "Jessica, are you—?"

"I'll go get you more ginger ale," Fitz offered. She narrowed her eyes at him as he smoothly took the empty glass from her, not sure if he wanted to help her or if he was exacting revenge for his impending ass-chewing. When he winked, she glowered. It felt like old times.

He sauntered away toward the kitchen where the servers had set up their headquarters. He passed a couple of guests and stopped for a quick hello. They offered congratulations for his promotion before he remembered his mission and dashed away, apologizing for his abrupt departure.

So intent was he that he neglected to note the curly-haired, mocha-skinned woman going the opposite direction.

Their bodies colliding knocked the melting contents of the glass onto her black-and-raspberry-colored dress. She yelped in surprise. The shock of the event made him fumble the glass, but luckily he didn't drop it. He quickly took stock of the area, noticed the ice cubes at their feet that had yet to melt. He knelt and began to pick them up, blurting out an apology over the clink of the cubes as they fell into the glass.

Then he found himself staring up into a pair of brown eyes twinkling with mirth. When their gazes met, her full mouth quirked into a small smile that dulled his brain and shot warmth through his veins. He recognized the reaction for what it was: the punch of attraction. He had given women a cursory glance over the last several months, gone out on a few dates, but nothing had sparked him until that first glance of this mysterious woman.

Grant, you must be slipping, he chided himself silently. He had more finesse than this. Usually.

But then she spoke and he felt one of those unusual times quickly approaching.

"Are you generally this clumsy?" she asked in a teasing tone. He noted at once her accent, placing her origin somewhere within Great Britain. Somehow that made her even more appealing. "Or are you just rubbish around beautiful women?"

Miles away, Olivia lowered her hand and stared into her vanity mirror at the image of her cousin adjusting her royal purple cape top gown over her shoulders at the full length on the back of Olivia's bedroom door. Music played softly in the corner.

Olivia felt marginally better after telling Mia that she'd had a fight with Fitz. After the announcement at Kaminari, Mia had followed Olivia to her apartment for a heart-to-heart over a gargantuan bowl of freshly popped popcorn. Getting the secret she had carried for months off her chest was cathartic. Mia remained by her side most of the day, and she had only gone home briefly to retrieve her dress and accessories for the evening's party. And then Mia surprised Olivia by merely keeping quiet. The silence was comfortable, undemanding. They cleaned up the mess and watched movies before deciding to prepare for the New Year's Eve party at the Halliwell Hotel later on that evening with little exchange.

"That dress looks great on you," Olivia remarked, then went back to her makeup.

"Thanks," Mia returned, smoothing down the fabric over her belly. She turned away from the full-length and met Olivia's gaze in the vanity mirror. "But you and both know—your dress wins the prize this evening." She came over and wrapped her arms over Olivia and placed her chin on her bare right shoulder. The jewels on Olivia's teal-hued one shoulder gown twinkled subtly in the light as she moved to clasp Mia's forearm. "You okay?"

Olivia shook her head a bit and went back to applying her makeup. "You make it seem like I just went through some heinous breakup. We had a fight. It's done."

Mia winced a bit as if to say but you're…sort of…acting like it…? She kept her mouth shut, deciding to take care with her next words. She really didn't want her cousin to start swinging at her, she didn't want to match her dress with bruises. "I just…he was in our lives for a long time, Liv. Fifteen years is nothing to sneeze at."

Olivia placed the mascara wand back into the tube and shifted. Mia had to let go of her as she turned to face her. "He called me a coward, Mia. I can't just overlook that as if it never happened."

Mia held her tongue and said instead, "So yes, he did some of the wrong in this scenario. And trust me, when I see him again, I will tell him so. However…" Mia knelt down in front of her cousin. "Let me ask you something. Do you remember Eva Beard from elementary school?"

Olivia's eyeroll indicated that she did. She was surprised that Mia didn't make her check yes or no to answer the question. "Mia Corrine, you are not dredging up some 25-year-old bullshit from first grade to prove your point."

Mia lifted a shoulder. "It's precedent. Gotta make my case. Anyway, she was your best friend, right? Matching lunchboxes, bracelets, secret jokes—the whole nine. She was over your house so much I thought Aunt Maya was going to adopt her and make her last name Lewis. And then during Spring Break our first grade year what happened?"

Olivia sighed. At the time she thought it had been such a betrayal. But then again, she had been six. "She taught Tasha Perry our secret handshake without asking me first."

"Exactly. You froze her out so thoroughly I'm pretty sure the girl was breathing icicles until she hit puberty."

Olivia crossed her arms over her chest. "You exaggerate, Mia." Mia gave another shrug and waited. "So are you saying that I need to clear things up with Fitz before he turns into a walking Mr. Freeze?"

Mia rose and smoothed herself out. She snickered at the mental image before schooling her features to more somber lines. "I mean…okay. Think of it this way: we're adults now. Every true bond we make has to be for keeps, and forgive me for sounding like I miss the dude, but I thought you had a true bond Fitzgerald Grant. How many fake assholes have tried to come and set up shop within our circle before we kicked them out and bolted the door behind them? Lord, I can't even count. But we can't afford to burn bridges over dumb shit. Who knows if we'll ever see that person again?"

Olivia hated to admit it, but Mia was right. She had neglected to think of the future, of an existence completely without Fitz, friends or not. And yet...

"I'm…not ready," Olivia admitted. Mia's head inclined faintly and she stared at Olivia silently. "I'm not ready to face him yet, Mia. Maybe that is cowardly, but I admit that I can't."

After a while, Mia looked down and nodded. She let out a deep breath. "I understand."

The knock on the door broke the spell of that somber moment and Mia disappeared to answer it. Olivia inhaled deeply and then held it, hoping to force away the shakiness she felt. When Abby entered her bedroom, she squared her shoulders and mustered up a smile.

"Hey sexy mama," Abby greeted her. She glided across the room, a column of shiny pewter, to give Olivia a hug. Olivia stood there in her embrace without moving for a minute. She heard Mia and Michelle coming down the hall. Abby pulled back to assess her. Olivia heard a pleased hum in her throat at the sight of Olivia's dress but when her gaze lifted to her friend's face she frowned. "Something's up with you."

Mia shouted from the bathroom to ask for Olivia's sewing kit. Olivia shouted back that she would bring it to her. In a lower tone, she said to Abby, "Sometimes I wish you weren't as observant as you are."

"Liv, you're my friend. Do you think I can't tell when something is wrong?"

She unearthed the sewing kit from her closet and gave it to Mia. When she walked back into the room, she avoided Abby's gaze and went to her vanity. She picked up her perfume and dabbed a bit at her pulse points. Finally she said, "Aren't you going to ask me what's wrong?"

"Nope." Olivia whirled to stare at her in surprise. "That's not important to me right now. Besides, if you want me to know, you'll tell me." Abby neared and then placed her hands on Olivia's shoulders. "Do you know what I do care about right now?"

Olivia peered at her and then snorted out a laugh when she spied the answer dancing in Abby's blue eyes. "Not a damn thing."

"Not a damn thing," Abby confirmed. "It's the last night of the year, I just got off working ten days straight at the Halliwell and if I see another honey bun it will be too damn soon. I'm not worried"—she took Olivia's hand and spun her in a circle—"about a damn thing. We're going to party hard and leave this year behind. And maybe wake up in a bed that doesn't belong to us. Whaddya say, sexy mama?"

When Mia and Michelle entered, they discovered Olivia and Abby dancing. Michelle joined in, leaving Mia n the doorway. Mia caught Olivia's eye. A humming moment passed, and then Mia smiled before jumping in.

The rapid clicking of heels and raised voices broke him from his reverie. He shifted to find Jessica hurrying his way, face flushed and mouth pinched. Cyrus was on her heels, bellowing for her to come back because you know I'm right and you can't bear to admit it! He sighed and the curly-haired woman helped him to his feet. Beautiful young woman with whom he had collided momentarily forgotten, Fitz caught Jessica and she furiously broke away to respond at Cyrus. Refusing to be deterred, Fitz reached out and yanked Jessica toward him. He didn't see it, but the young woman raised an eyebrow at the display.

"Stop of it, both of you," Fitz commanded. Jessica fumed and Cyrus shook his head in disbelief but they had gone quiet. He regarded them both, family without blood, and softened his tone. "I doubt rehashing an age-old argument is the way you want to ring in the New Year. So kiss and make up. Who knows, you may not get to."

For a moment, nothing happened. Finally Jessica turned away, looking troubled. "I need to check on the twins, excuse me."

James and Irene arrived then and noticed Jessica leaving. James admonished his husband while Irene started to go after her daughter. Fitz shook his head and went instead. In his wake, Irene turned to the curly-haired woman, who looked a bit shell-shocked, and offered to help. She accepted, watching Fitz leave with a faint sense of regret.

Meanwhile, upstairs in the guest bedroom where Jessica and her children had settled, Fitz watched Jessica fling her blue dress on the bed and stalk around angrily in an oversize shirt and pajama pants. The twins barely stirred.

"Why are you angry?"

Jessica yanked pins from her hair and deflated her careful up-do. "What kind of question—?"

"I'll repeat it: why are you angry?" Jessica did not answer. She snatched up her dress and disappeared into the closet. "You and I both know that you are too smart for a cantankerous asshole like Cyrus to get under your skin." He heard her inside the closet, furiously moving things around. "Unless he is right, in some twisted, regrettable way." He waited. It went quiet. He stuck his hands inside his pockets. A few moments later, Jessica appeared, leaning on the doorframe. "Is he right, Jess?"

Seconds eked by. Finally, Jessica murmured, "I asked him not to go. And he agreed. But he still went anyway." She shuddered out a breath and drifted toward him. "He doesn't know." Fitz removed his hands from his pockets and brought her close for a hug, she appeared in desperate need for one. "He…doesn't know…what's about to happen yet." She rested her cheek on Fitz's chest and cried.

"I'm sure it'll be all right," Fitz soothed. "Whatever happens, however it happens. And when you tell him, he'll be the happiest man in the world." The words I know I would floated in the air, unspoken, and Jessica felt a new form of heartache fill her at that moment. She couldn't bear to look at him yet, struggling with her own misgivings and reminded of the reality that she possessed, in some aspects (definitely not all), a life that Fitz would have wanted the chance to experience.

After a short while, Jessica groaned. "Damn hormones," she muttered crossly, trying to lighten the mood. "I should've been able to argue my way through that damn argument instead of turning all emotional on everyone." She looked up at him and wiped her eyes. "Next time I get all crazy, Grant, just smack me. I can't have feelings fucking with my reputation. They'll think I'm a softie."

Fitz smiled. "Now that's the Jessica Thomas I know and wish to shake." She rolled her eyes, but he caught the gleam of mirth within them. They stood like that for a minute before Fitz ruffled her hair and she glared at him. "I take your change of clothing to mean that you're not going to return to the festivities?"

Sobering, Jessica inhaled deeply. "I…think I'll stay up here. I've got all these…" She winced a bit because she was at a loss for words and made an impatient gesture. "Things floating around within me. I might throw something at Cyrus, and I know how much James and Ella love him. And I guess I love him too. Not to mention changing the logo again at the firm would be a pain in the ass if he croaked." She fell silent and watched him. Fitz looked at the floor thoughtfully. When he raised his eyes, she shook her head at the resolve in those blue depths. "No, sir. Fitzgerald Grant—you are not about to—" She pressed her lips together as Fitz took off his tux jacket and threw it over a chair. "Damn it all. You never listen to me."

"You don't need to be alone," Fitz insisted. "One false move and you'll end up face down in a bag of Milano cookies."

"And you don't need to waste your time placating your hysterical sister," Jessica shot back. "Look at you. Tuxedos were made for men like you, and what a place to flaunt it?" She picked up his jacket and shoved into his grasp. "Now go down there and find your future wife. Or booty call. Take your pick."

"Mummy?" The small voice made them both turn. A dark-haired six-year-old stared at them sleepily from under a curtain of hair. Fitz stared at the child, seeing a bit of the woman standing in front of him within her features. He experienced several feelings at once: awe and fascination seeing a smaller version of a person for whom he cared, anger and disbelief that a man would leave this behind, longing that he yet had nothing like this of his own, hope that someday he would.

"Annie bear, there's someone I want you to meet," Jessica said softly. She reached down and hefted her onto her hip. Fitz watched the act silently. "This is your Uncle Fitz. Forgive him, this is the first time he's seeing you, too."

After introductions, during which little Annie asked Fitz quite plainly where have you been?, they entertained him with stories, effectively bridging the gap between the last time Fitz had seen Jessica. Fitz himself offered stories for the girl, causing her mother to protest laughingly many times. Somehow, the little girl's double remained soundly asleep. Jessica explained that one of her sisters had worn Annie's twin brother out that day.

He barely noted the passage of time; Annie slowly warmed up to him, sensing that her mother was not trying to offer a replacement for her absent, beloved father. By the time midnight neared, he shared the window seat with Jessica and her daughter; Annie was in his lap and he counted down to the New Year wistfully.

Jessica and Annie fell asleep shortly after the fireworks ended. Fitz carried them from the window seat and tucked them into bed with her twin son, marveling at how vulnerable they appeared in slumber. His gaze flickered over the photo of Jessica and her husband on the nightstand before he leaned down to place a chaste kiss on Jessica's forehead.

As he descended the stairs, Cyrus spotted him from the foyer. The two men met at the bottom of the staircase, Fitz with his hands in his pockets and Cyrus sheepishly scratching the back of his head.

"How bad is she?" Cyrus inquired.

"A little shaky, but she'll come through." Cyrus sighed, tired. "You know, grilling her on her husband right now is not the best idea. Especially since she's carrying their third child and she's petrified he won't come home."

Cyrus paled. "She's what?" He sighed again. "Damn. Cynical Cyrus strikes again. Ten dollars for the Cynic Jar. We'll be able to go to Disneyland by summertime at this rate." He rubbed a temple. "I'll apologize in the morning." He glanced toward the hallway leading toward the den. "Listen, I don't know if I've said it yet, but..." Fitz looked at him expectantly. "Just because you are partner now doesn't mean you can shirk your duties as godfather." Fitz sighed but the corners of his mouth lifted into a smile. "If we continue on this path, you may get to see Ella before she graduates high school."

"Fine. I'll come over this Sunday for dinner." Cyrus started to speak but Fitz added, "With Jess and the twins."

Cyrus grumbled something about the inconvenience of cooking for a master chef but did not refute. They said goodbye after setting a time for dinner. Fitz watched Cyrus walk away and join James with family on his mind. He strode away from the staircase, intending to find Irene to tell her goodnight and wish her Happy New Year.

"Is your friend okay?"

Fitz stopped abruptly at the accented female voice and turned. He found the curly-haired beauty from earlier that evening, except now she wore a leather bomber jacket over her gauzy black and raspberry colored dress. She peered at him, an inquisitive gleam in her eyes.

"I'm sorry?" he managed.

"When you went dashing off earlier and left me behind with watered-down ginger ale on my dress," she clarified. "She looked upset."

"She was," he confirmed soberly. "Damn, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to leave before taking care of you. That was rude of me."

"I guess I can forgive you, considering the circumstances," the woman said wryly. Fitz opened his mouth to thank her when she pressed, "But you still didn't answer my question."

"I…uh..." He looked down at his feet and stuffed his hands in his pockets to gather his thoughts before starting again. "Actually...she's more than a friend." Her eyes dropped fractionally as if disappointment was coming over her. "She's family." She raised her eyes in surprise, showing that she understood. "But she's resting. She'll be all right." His head tilted faintly and he stepped closer. Not too close, but just enough. "I never caught your name."

The woman smiled enigmatically. "I never threw it to you."

He had to chuckle. "I guess I had that one coming," he muttered, mostly to himself.

A humming pause fell between them. He could tell she was assessing him but offered himself for the scrutiny without a word. Finally, she relented and told him, "Claire." Bemusement marred his brow. "My name is Claire."

So she has a name. Fitz extracted a hand from his hand to offer her to shake. "Very nice to finally meet you, Claire. I'm—"

"I know who you are," she interrupted. His eyebrows lifted in question and she lifted a shoulder nonchalantly. "Well, when you left me all wet and lonesome I had to make do on my own."

His mind recognized the double entendre immediately and his mouth dropped open as his mind attempted to wander in that direction—but he yanked himself from that path. She laughed at his reaction and her cheeks flushed. "I'm so sorry, I couldn't resist." She reached out for his hand and clasped it with her own. Her palm was soft and warm, and coupled with the spike of his pulse from her earlier comment, the sensation had his heart thrumming. "It's nice to meet you, too...Fitzgerald Grant."

She released his hand and stepped around him. She strode toward the door when he asked, "So...I suppose this is my penance for leaving you to make do on your own?"

Claire paused in mid-step and looked at him over her shoulder. "What do you mean?"

Keeping her gaze, Fitz inched closer until he stood close enough to smell her perfume. "What would you say if I admitted that I...wanted to see you again? Without acting like a clumsy idiot?"

After a beat, her lips curved. "I would say..." He gazed at her expectantly. "...that...I'll find you when I'm ready. Fitzgerald Grant."

With that, she left. Fitz watched her walk away with a mix of regret and anticipation. He possessed no idea what would happen or if he would actually see this woman again. But he did know one thing.

He liked the way she said his name.

The New Year's Eve party at the Halliwell Hotel was well underway, and Olivia found that forgetting her worries, albeit fun, was only temporary.

She had found refuge in this quiet spot on the balcony. Her cousins and friends remained inside, at her back, enjoying the champagne and nibbles. She imbibed enough to lose herself for a couple of hours. Somewhere within the eleventh hour, she found her steam running out and reality crept into her mind. Slipping away without notice, she took her thoughts where she could examine them without interruption.

Her conversation with Mia before Abby and Michelle arrived at her apartment some time ago stuck in her mind. She had told her cousin that she wasn't ready to face Fitz after what had happened. Maybe I'm being silly, she realized. However, Fitz had taken part in this dance of avoidance, so she felt unsure if he would respond the way she wanted.

But how did she want him to respond?

There are so many things in the world that you could think about, she chided herself. Stop obsessing over this and—

As if on cue, someone spoke from behind her. "I would like to think someone who just reached a three-year-long goal would look a little less like she lost her goldfish."

Olivia jumped at the sound of the masculine voice at her back. She whirled and found Kaneshi Tsukimori leaning on the doorway, grasping a glass of champagne. In his Armani tuxedo sans bowtie, he appeared stylish and faintly concerned. Behind him, the New Year's Eve party continued without them and provided an interesting backdrop. She had not realized that he had arrived or even had been invited to the party in the first place. Have I been out here that long? she mused.

"I was just having an introspective moment," Olivia admitted, feeling horribly exposed. She hated that feeling, and looking at him made her feel even more vulnerable so she shifted her gaze to the sky. "It's a good night for that sort of thing."

The crunch and scrape of his shoes over the balcony floor heralded his coming near, and she felt his presence as he paused next to her. "Looking back at the past can be extremely educational...though you run the risk of wallowing in emotions you thought were long buried." He tilted up the glass at his lips and took a long pull. "If you linger too long, you risk being run over by them." He let out a soft sigh and a sorrowful smile ghosted at the edges of his mouth. After a moment, he looked at her meaningfully. "You can't stay in seclusion forever, Ms. Pope."

She met his stare. "I wasn't planning to." She looked over her shoulder at the guests within the ballroom. She spied the fiery mane of Abby as she danced with an attractive male specimen. She felt a twinge of regret realizing everyone was having fun without her that was dulled by the liquor in her system. "Life goes on whether you like it or not."

"Hmm. So why don't you come back inside?" She shifted to look at him. There was a faint glimmer of challenge dancing in the depths of his eyes. "The loss of your presence in there is rather conspicuous."

Olivia's head tilted a bit but still felt a smidgen of skepticism. "I didn't know you noticed, Mr. Tsukimori."

Kaneshi lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "What can I say? My stepmother speaks highly of you, and I find myself curious about the woman who has captured her attention and initiated this movement that has my father's school astir."

"And once your curiosity is satisfied?"

Kaneshi sobered a bit at the note of distrust in her tone. "You underestimate my attention span, Ms. Pope."

That sentence hummed between them for a long moment. Suddenly inside the ballroom, the music stopped and the emcee announced that the countdown to midnight had begun. They both turned toward the sound. Kaneshi took out his phone to check the time as Olivia caught Abby's eye, and the redhead brightened. She crossed the room with Harrison, Monique, and Michelle with her husband trailing behind her.

"Now this is where it's at!" Harrison declared when they filled the balcony. "Front row seat for the fireworks show."

"Just don't crawl under the chair like you did crying when we were five years old," Michelle teased.

Harrison scoffed and everyone laughed, even Kaneshi. Abby eyed him standing next to Olivia and smirked. She linked arms with her friend and gave her a meaningful nudge as Harrison complained. "'Chelle, seriously? We were five. Do you know how crazy shit seems when you've only been in the world five years? And it sounded like Armageddon on our damn roof. Cut me some slack, all right?"

"But you were still cowering under your bed the next morning, though," Michelle reminded him. "Admit it. You were being a little bitch."

Abby raised an eyebrow at Kaneshi and Olivia blushed. Abby drank her champagne with a knowing grin but said nothing.

"Can we not?" Harrison was demanding. "We've got like thirty seconds before midnight and I really don't wanna have to explain to Aunt Carmen how I had to kick your ass at the turn of the New Year."

Isabelle with her husband Mark and Marisol joined the group right then and Harrison greeted them by asking Isabelle about the cocaine treats. "Does everyone know?" Isabelle asked in dismay. The others responded in the affirmative.

"I say you give me your recipe and I sell them at Halliwell," Abby said sagely. "Cut you a nice profit when the masses become addicted. Everybody wins!"

"Can we talk about this next year?" Harrison quipped.

The occupants in the room behind them shouted Eleven! and Abby rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress the snort. "You are so ridiculous, Harrison."

"Shut up, y'all are missing the countdown!" Monique scolded them, moving closer to the railing. Harrison mimicked her behind her back and everyone tried to stifle their laughter. Monique glared at him but he ignored her and raised his voice with everyone else's.

Five! Four!

Olivia felt something brush her hand and looked to her left. Kaneshi had stepped up to her side and the hem of his tuxedo jacket had brushed her hand. They shared a glance before looking above in anticipation of the fireworks.

Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!

The cacophony of noise-makers and cheers filled the space with jubilance. Olivia found herself wrapped up in hugs as the ball room broke out into "Auld Lang Syne." She heard Harrison talking to Kaneshi and wondered how long it would take someone to ask about what happened before they had all appeared.

Suddenly, Isabelle asked, "Has anyone seen Mia? I figured she would be with us."

"I'm right here!" They shifted to discover Mia bounding toward them, hand-in-hand with Sam.

Monique crossed her arms over her chest. "And where have you been?"

Instead of slanting her nosey little sister a glare per usual, Mia looked down at the ground demurely. "Well…you know...I was just off...getting proposed to..."

The balcony froze in shock. Mia held up her left hand and Sam placed his chin lovingly on her temple. An engagement ring twinkled in the light of the fireworks on her ring finger and Olivia, Michelle, and Abby gasped in unison. "We're getting married!" she announced under the pop and sizzle of the fireworks.

Olivia, Michelle, and Abby squealed in happiness and converged upon Mia. Isabelle grabbed Mark's hand and covered her mouth as happy tears filled her eyes. Harrison yelled something like about damn time! and smacked Sam on the shoulder in approval. Everyone hugged Mia until Monique pointed out they were missing the fireworks. The group had shifted closer to the balcony railing and Olivia found herself in the back. She felt a hand on the small of her back and before she could react she felt the brush of lips on her cheek.

"Happy New Year, Olivia," Kaneshi murmured into her ear, before stepping back to look at her. Something in his expression made the statement seem more like a salutation, a sign that things were just getting started.

Not quite sure how she felt about that revelation, Olivia smiled politely up at him. "Happy New Year, Kaneshi."

He exited, weaving his way through the party-goers who had drifted toward the balcony to observe the fireworks. She peered at his retreating back for a moment before turning away. Abby came up then and wrapped her arm around Olivia's shoulders. She gave a knowing smile that caused Olivia to blush and be thankful for the dark.

Five days later, Olivia turned off her morning alarm and sighed wearily.

The break was over and the first day of the second semester was in her midst. Her body protested the end of the vacation but her mind was happy to get back to work. She hoped with a bit of coffee and food, the two would agree.

She rose and readied herself as usual. While eating breakfast, she scrolled through news stories and social media on her tablet. She was gulping down the last of her coffee when her phone beeped because she had a new message. She activated the screen to reveal the message.

Greetings from Istanbul. "Begin as you mean to go on, and go on as you began." Wishing you a good first day back. -K

Olivia pondered upon the words, not sure how she felt about them at first. Kaneshi had checked on her on New Year's Day, citing that he'd gotten her number from Suzume. Their conversation had been brief but telling. He didn't push her into going out with him or seem overly flirtatious. He merely encouraged her to enjoy her free time and offered his wisdom if she found it necessary.

Finally deciding to be pleased, Olivia's lips curved as she typed out a quick response. Thanks for the well wishes. You have a good day as well. And have a safe trip home. She put away the breakfast dishes before making a final sweep of her apartment, making sure everything was turned off and in its place. When she was satisfied, she left.

She arrived at Kaminari early enough to beat the first students arriving. She headed toward the main office to grab her mail before going to the administrative wing to visit her cousin before the day began. She found Mia behind her desk typing and looking a bit bleary-eyed. She picked up her favorite mug and lifted it to her lips. Her eyes strayed toward the door where she found Olivia.

"Oh hey," Mia said, taking another quick sip. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Olivia greeted her. She caught sight of the vase of flowers at the corner of Mia's desk and raised an eyebrow. When she fell silent, Mia flicked a glance in her direction and spied where her attention had gone.

Mia sighed. "It seems the news of my engagement made it to the Big Man and he sent me a garden in a vase."

Olivia leaned in to smell the flowers and hummed in appreciation. "They're lovely." Pause. She shook her head in dismay. "You'll have them dead in a day."

"Don't worry, Mari's gonna take them." Mia turned away from her monitor screen and stood. "So...am I right to assume you'll have a plus one for the party?"

Olivia blinked at Mia as she wove her arms through her suit jacket. "Plus one? I don't understand what you're implying."

Mia have her that tight-lipped, squinty-eyed Auntie smile that she hated so much and pinched her cheek. "You're so cute, Olivia Carolyn," she drawled. Olivia made a sound of disgust and followed Mia out of her office. "As if we all suddenly have gone blind." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Don't try to play Barbarino and pretend like you don't know what I am talking about."

Olivia responded archly, "I don't. So enlighten me."

"New Year's?" Mia prompted simply. Olivia groaned and rolled her eyes upward. "I may have been hopped up on copious amounts of bubbly and proposal juju but I clearly spotted something going on between you and Mr. Hottie McMogulpants—and I am not trying to say it's something yet—but it was enough to be noticeable, Liv."

"He was just...being nice," Olivia protested. "It's not even the way you're implying, so don't even go there."

Mia raised her hands in a gesture of defeat. "All right then, stepping away from the line." Pause. "But—"

"Mia—" Olivia began in a warning tone.

Mia held up a finger. "But if you wanted to bring him, I would not judge you. All I am saying. In addition, you know Auntie Maya is going to give you the side-eye for coming stag. Might as well save yourself 300 days of her riding your ass and give her something pretty to look at so she doesn't ask you about freezing your eggs over the potato salad again."

Olivia shuddered. During Christmas, her mother had expressed her concerns—using the term loosely—that Olivia was over thirty and still without husband or child. The topic had come up over Christmas dinner, and Olivia had wished Mia had undercooked the turkey again so she could have escaped her mother's scrutiny.

"You're right," Olivia agreed, nodding emphatically. "You are very right. Especially since...certain people won't be there..."

Olivia trailed off, sensing something strange had happened. She looked to Mia to voice her concern...but Mia wasn't walking beside her anymore.

Mia was stopped in the hallway a couple of yards behind, looking like she was seven again and broke her father's five-disc CD player. Olivia frowned and turned to face her. "What? What is it, Mia?"

"Um..." Her cousin bit her lip nervously. "How much do you love me?"

Olivia squinted at her as dread filled her stomach. She was having flashbacks of seventh grade when Mia uttered that question every other week. "What did you do?"

"Well, see what had happened was, Sam and I were talking about who should come to the engagement party because you know his mother's just going to use it to invite all of her snotty little friends which neither one of us wants so we were trying to think of as many people we both liked as possible and..." She winced, bracing herself for Olivia's reaction as Olivia halted a foot in front of her. "I invited Fitz."

From: "Mia C. Johnson"
To: "Fitzgerald T. Grant"
CC: "Samuel A. Lawrence"
Subject: Keep Your Shotgun in the Closet

Happy New Year! Hope all is well in your hood. Anyhow, this is just a pre-notification, if you will. The official invite is already in the mail and on its way. But if you haven't heard, Sam and I are engaged. I know, I know—go ahead and check the Weather Channel. Hell is still hot and the polar ice caps did not become a tropical oasis.

At Sam's mother's insistence, we are having a party on March 23rd (since it coincides with Spring Break here at the Academy) to commemorate the occasion. Sam and I would love if you were able to make it. I absolutely understand if you cannot, I know you are a busy man, but I wanted to make the attempt.

Just let me know! Hit me back!

P.S.: What's up with you and Olivia?

Mia Johnson
Faculty Administrator
Kaminari Academy

.

.

From: "Samuel A. Lawrence"
To: "Mia C. Johnson"
Subject: RE: Keep Your Shotgun in the Closet

Babe. Seriously. Stop trying to be Iyanla, you can't fix everything. If I were you, I would stay the hell away from whatever angst-encrusted madness is going on between your cousin and the hunk attorney with the luscious hair. And speaking of which... Do you think I'd get his volume if I grew mine back out?

Wait. Don't answer that.

Anyway. The moral of the story: just say no to drama.

No more pain.

No DRAMA.

Love,
Snuggle Bunny

.

.

From: "Mia C. Johnson"
To: Samuel A. Lawrence"
Subject: RE: Re: Re: Keep Your Shotgun in the Closet

Sigh. I really cannot stand your goofy ass. Even though I am cackling to high heaven, I still cannot stand you.

And on a side note... Whatchu know about Mary J? Lemme hit send before I get fired and you won't get any sandwich meat in your Ramen this evening.

xoxo, M

Fitz peered at the email message on his screen, filled with conflicting emotions. He felt happy for the couple for surmounting their earlier issues and taking things to the next level. On the coattails of his second-hand happiness was a sharper feeling of loss with a dull ache of speculation. How was she doing now? What did she think of this?

I'll probably never know.

But you could, the little voice in his head reminded him. Sometimes he really wanted to smother that little voice.

A knock on his opened door broke his attention from his computer screen. Rachel Smith stood in the doorway, no-nonsense and dominant in red. She came to Fitz's desk with a file in hand and determination in her eyes. As he focused on her then glanced at the clock, the reason for her presence dawned on him.

"Are they here?" Fitz asked, rising from his chair and grabbing his formerly discarded jacket in the same movement. They had a meeting with counsel from another firm on a case they were working together. He had been preparing for it when the message from Mia had come and thrown him off track.

"Angela just put them into the conference room. Thought I'd make them sweat for a few minutes." Rachel frowned as Fitz rounded the desk to join her. "You good?"

Fitz started to lie and say that he was, but something propelled him to tell the truth. He had not been too terribly close to Rachel before their promotion; she had kept herself distant from him, but he found that changing after a few lunches after the new year. "Just got something on my mind."

They strode out of Fitz's office and down the hallway. "Work?"

"No." He could sense Rachel's barely veiled curiosity. After a few steps, he admitted, "Trying to decide if I want to open a can of worms."

Rachel looked at him sidelong. "Grant. That almost sounds like you're ready to give up, which is rather...uncharacteristic for you. You know what Wolfe would say."

Fitz exhaled heavily. David Wolfe lived his life fearlessly and encouraged everyone around him to behave in kind—something which annoyed his wife to no end. "Unfortunately. I'm surprised he hasn't gotten it on a T-shirt yet. Let me not say that too loud, don't want to give him any ideas."

Rachel stopped right outside the conference room door. "Look, you have two choices. Run or handle it. You've always been a handle it type of man in my opinion, so why stop now?" She punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Man up, Fitzgerald."

Why stop now? Why stop, indeed. "Aye, aye Captain," Fitz returned, prompting a quick smile from Rachel. Fitz cleared his mind and followed her into the conference room in full-on work mode.

After the meeting when he sat behind his desk, Fitz unlocked his computer and was faced with the email from Mia again. He also had a new message from a sender he didn't recognize. He clicked on the new message with a tiny furrow of his brow. The frown transformed into a smile after he had skimmed the message.

From: errantdreamgirl { at } gmail { dot } com
To: ftgrantiii { at } thomasbeenewolfe { dot } com
Subject: I'm Ready Now

I'm addicted to risky business.

Dinner tonight at 8? Show me how smooth you are.

-C

Short and sweet but still stunning.

She's good, he thought in admiration.

He responded with a huge grin on his face and noted the time on the calendar in his phone He went back to his inbox, noting Mia's unanswered message directly after Claire's short missive. He sucked in a breath and opened it. The pointer hovered over the reply button.

He took a moment to check himself, tossing around the possibility of going to the engagement party. Seeing Mia and Sam again. Seeing Harrison, Abby, Monique and Michelle again. Seeing her again. The months of silence had made that possibility loom larger than it had normally would.

Things are often much simpler than we make them out to be.

"Oh what the hell," he conceded. Having made his decision, he punched in Quinn's extension and listened to the couple of rings before she picked up.

"Yes?" Quinn said expectantly.

Fitz drummed his fingers on his desktop, working through possibilities and plans. "Do you mind to put something on the calendar for me?"

From: "Fitzgerald T. Grant"
To: "Mia C. Johnson"; "Samuel A. Lawrence"
Subject: RE: Keep Your Shotgun in the Closet

Thank you for the pre-notification. I would be honored to count myself as a guest to your engagement party. I will mark the date on my calendar and plan to see you then. Hopefully there will not be a zombie apocalypse between now and March 23rd.

As to the question of my well-being, I assure you that everything is wonderful. As you can see below, I am now one of the partners here at the firm. Happy New Year indeed.

Take care. I will be in touch.

Fitzgerald Grant III
Attorney
Thomas, Beene, Wolfe, Grant & Smith