TROTD - Chapter Twenty-one: Learning How to Love You

            Heather heard Ellie’s voice when she knocked on the bedroom door, “El?” she called quietly. The door opened, Ellie’s tear stained face blank when she stepped aside to let her sister enter the room. Ellie flopped herself dramatically onto the bed.

“Did Pops send you?” she asked.

“You owe him an apology” Heather took a seat next to her on the bed.

“Absolutely not” Ellie’s eyes flew to Heather’s, “You know she just got pregnant to trap him.”

“That’s not true” Heather insisted, “She wasn’t even going to tell him.”

“He loves Mom, he belongs with her,” Ellie insisted.    

“You’re being ridiculous, El. You’ve seen him with Olivia, he and Mom were never like that.”

“He only wants her because of this midlife crisis or whatever. He will realize how much he wants to be with Mom but then it will be too late because she will have trapped him.” Ellie turned over onto her belly, kicking her legs behind her, “Besides, how do you even know the baby is Dad’s?”

            Heather laughed, “That’s absurd and you know it. Pops and Olivia are crazy about one another. They’re inseparable. They spend almost every second of every day together.”

“Whatever.” Ellie shrugged, “Mom wasn’t too happy about it.”

“You better not let Pop find out you called Mom. It would break his heart.”

            Ellie rolled her eyes and picked up the book that lay next to her on the bed. “Well he needs to think about this. I mean what guarantee does he have? She could just be trying to get him to marry her. She’s totally after our money.”

“Ellie, I am going to say this as nicely as possible,” Heather took a seat next to her on the bed, “If Pop hears you say these things it will hurt him. He loves Olivia and she is going to have his baby, our brother or sister, and there’s nothing you can do about it. But if you keep causing trouble by snitching to Mom and being mean to Olivia he’s not going to stand for it. Your attitude is shitty and you better knock it off.”

“I don’t care. I’ll say it right to him if he can’t see things for what they are.”

            Heather shook her head, it was clear she wasn’t going to get through to Ellie. She quietly left the room, walking downstairs to help clean up from dinner.

X-X

            Olivia watched Fitz turn ghostly white as he pulled the phone away from his ear and pressed “End”.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“Nothing. I’m just worried about you,” he lied.

            She gave him an appreciative smile, slowly rising and facing herself in the mirror.

“When am I going to stop looking like death?” her fingers ran over her pale cheeks then fell to her sides. Fitz stepped close behind her, allowing his arms to encircle her waist, he touched his lips to the curve of her neck, breathing in her sweet scent.

“You’ll feel better in a few weeks,” he whispered, kissing her shoulder. “There are some remedies out there too. We can ask the doctor at your appointment.”

“Fitz. You can’t go to my appointment.” She sounded almost panicked.

“Why? This is my baby too.” He rubbed his hands along her belly.

“The press would have a field day,” she explained, “You and I walking into an OB/GYN office? Come on.”

“So I have to miss out on ultrasounds and hearing heartbeats for the first time because you’re afraid some random reporter might see us?”

“Not even a reporter Fitz. What if some woman who watches the show wants a picture with her favorite CIA agent? You don’t exactly blend, everyone knows you.” Her face was mired with worry, deep lines in her brow. She felt her life quickly spinning out of control.

            She laced her fingers with his over her womb. When it was just the two of them everything seemed simple. He loved her, they had created a life, they were happy. He peppered kisses along her neck, never losing eye contact with her in the mirror. He wanted to take away all of her fears, to shield her from the things people would say and those who would do anything to see her star dim.

            Olivia looked down at their entwined hands. Thoughts of how they would handle sharing the news of her pregnancy with the public swam in her head. She pondered the ideas that she and Abby had discussed then considered a few of her own. Before she even thought of going public she would have to tell their executive producer and the network. Would she lose her job? What would happen to her character? Should they tell the rest of their cast mates about their relationship? She felt her breathing grow heavy as the questions mounted.

            Fitz felt her tense and began caressing small circles over her abdomen. “Livvie, what is it?”

“We really need a plan.” She looked a million miles away, glazed eyes, mouth in a thin line, breathing quickened.

“I thought our plan was to do what’s best for our little peanut, give him or her a stable home, two parents who love them.” He looked at his hands as he spoke, imagining how sweet Olivia would look with a protruding abdomen.

“I mean a plan for telling people, the public, the network.” Her voice grew impatient, her words biting and harsh.

            Fitz couldn’t help but bristle at her tone. He knew she was upset and her pregnancy was far from planned but his honest belief was that together they could overcome the stares and whispers, not to mention any negative publicity.

“I was discussing ideas with Abby.” She squeezed his hands in hers, then turned into him and buried her head in the ridges of his sturdy chest. His palms moved to her back flowing up and down in a soothing pattern.

“What was your idea?” he asked into her headful of curls.

“I could say I got artificially inseminated? Even not say who fathered my baby. It’s no one’s business, really.”

“No and no, Livvie, you are not cutting me out of my child’s life, even if it is only publicly. Any other bright ideas?”

“Just one.” She looked deeply into his eyes.

“Well, spill it Pretty Girl.” His lips ghosting over her pulse point caused a half giggle, half moan.

“I could get married.” She searched his face for a reaction but his features betrayed nothing. Slowly a smile curved the corner of his lips, “Are you proposing to me Olivia Pope?”

            Her cheeks stained deep crimson, suddenly nauseated and thirsty, heart thumping. “No, of course not.” The words hit Fitz like a blow to the gut, agony registering on his face. Quickly realizing how her statement sounded, Olivia rushed to continue, “Fitz, I mean the whole idea of this plan is that we can’t go public about us.” He staggered backwards, still looking wounded so she finished, “yet….we can’t go public about us yet.”

“Then who in the world are you doing to marry?” She ached from the loss of his touch and the sorrow on his face.

“We can pick someone together.” She spoke as though she were discussing the weather rather than a life-altering decision. Fitz’s hands fisted and irritation rose with the flush that traveled up his neck. He took two more steps from her, stumbling as he backpedaled. The room whirled and memories of the past months together played on a loop in his mind. Several times he tried to speak but words would come. He stared into her face, wondering how many times they shared, how many words she spoke, that were lies. He reminded himself that she was an actress, and a talented one at that. He wondered if her promises, her lies, were payback for not telling her about Megan. When he really looked, did he see the woman he’d fallen in love with? She stood wide-eyed, expectant, and suddenly he was the bone tired and weary one. His hands ran over his face then through his hair. He tried one last time to speak then gave up, walking from the bathroom, shoulder slumped.

“Fitz!” she called, watching his retreat. When he didn’t turn she followed him. He laid on the bed, picking up the remote and clicking on the television. He settled on a sitcom rerun and willed the drone from the TV to drown out the booming in his head. He massaged his temples, ignoring Olivia standing by the edge of the bed. He knew it was smarter to keep his thoughts to himself for fear that once he opened his mouth he wouldn’t be able to stop the rush of words. He trained his eyes on the television, barely blinking, his chest burning. He couldn’t rid his mind of Olivia marrying another man. He knew he’d sooner die than to have another man claim not only his rightful place beside Olivia but also his unborn child. He gritted his teeth and clenched his hands but vowed not to let her see.

“Fitz?” she spoke timidly after several minutes. He didn’t turn, didn’t answer. She tried again, “Fitz?” this time she sat on the edge of the bed but didn’t venture to touch him.

            Having her so close, able to smell her perfume and feel the heat from the body he knew every inch of, was sheer torture, but he was so angry. Then it hit him, what he stood to lose, love companionship, her smile, her laugh, his child, and a chance at a stable family. His eyes welled with unshed tears and he turned away from her.

“I’m just trying to do what’s best for us….for our show….this could ruin our careers.” He felt her moving closer as rage heated his face and the tears of desolation stung his eyes.

            Olivia watched the muscles of his strong back shift with each breath but he didn’t speak a single word. It took everything in her to keep from touching him. His bright red ears told her he was incensed and she stifled a bitter laugh at the number of times she had run her tongue over those same flushed ears. She felt frantic and completely uncertain about everything. She didn’t want to say the wrong thing or make him more upset. Her entire existence was spinning out of control. So much was riding on this, on her. Her pregnancy threatened the show, her career, her reputation, and now her attempts at self-preservation might cost her the most important person in her life. No one knew about her pregnancy other than Fitz’s daughters and Abby. She had no one to talk to, she was tired and lonely and apprehensive. She looked over at Fitz again, wondering if he had fallen asleep. She leaned down to place a light kiss on his temple next to the wisps of grey hair that he lovingly attributed to her. “I love you,” she whispered as her lips left his skin.

            He sensed her coming closer, bracing himself for what she would do. His breath seized when her lips touched him and her words caused his tears to flow when he felt her weight leave the mattress. He chanced a look in her direction, watching her walk through the bathroom and into the large walk-in closet, assuming she was readying for bed.

            Olivia stood in the master bathroom and slowly removed her clothes. Her shirt over her head and into the hamper followed by her jeans sliding down her legs. She solemnly stood before the full-length mirror allowing her hands to roam over her bare abdomen. She felt a million miles from Fitz, alone to figure out how to sort through the conflicting feelings in her head. She had never felt so shut out by him and for the first time in a very long time she considered the possibility that she had lost him forever. Imagining her life without Fitz was terrifying and she faced the painful fact that without him nothing else mattered. She blushed when she glanced towards the bed and saw him watching her. Instinct made her turn away, dropping her bra to the floor and pulling her black and ivory La Perla nightgown over her head, the silk gliding along her curves.

            Fitz watched attentively as the nightgown covered her flesh and he saw her visibly relax at the eel of the material against her skin. He felt a stirring, an involuntary and, at the moment, largely unwanted response to the luminous woman before him. Her back was still facing him when he slowly rose from the bed.

            Olivia felt his presence behind her, assuming her was going to use the bathroom. Then his hands were on her, he gripped her hips from behind, turning her to face him. When she looked into his eyes there was a different gleam there. She saw the dark indigo of desire, the clouds of despair, and the spark of unbridled passion. His hands, like his stare, were hard and she relished the pressure on her flesh. He didn’t speak and neither did she, too consumed. The feeling of her form beneath his hands reminded him how lucky he was to have her. He pinned her slender body against the door and took her mouth in a lush, hot kiss. His lips sealed over hers, his tongue gliding along the lower curve before stealing inside. She was stiff at first, resistant, and he wondered if he should stop. She had never reacted that way to his touch and when it came to physical intimacy, they’d never had any barriers between them.

            She was shocked by the contact, tensing in his embrace, but when his tongue glided over hers the fears in her head silenced and she was wholly in the moment. His mouth seemed to be everywhere, moving from her lips to her ear, then her neck and the valley between her breasts. Straightening, Fitz pulled his shirt over his head. Panting, her eyes swept hungrily over his torso, admiring the tight lacing abdominal muscles that flexed as he moved. He was so virile, truly breathtaking.

            Fitz stepped into her, her back again making contact with the bathroom door. His hands grabbed and bunched the gown around her hips, his left hand palming her ass, as his mouth waged a merciful assault on her lips. He drove his tongue deeper and deeper into her mouth, tasting every inch of her scorching tongue. A finger curled towards her wetness while his thumb hooked the waistband of her thong. The moist fabric left a trail of her essence down her inner thigh and a deep growl escaped his lips when his hand ran through her slick folds. He hastily pushed his pants down his legs along with his boxers, not bothering to remove them from around his ankles before his stiff cocked searched out their joining. Their breaths were heavy and their touch more deliberate, hurried only in the desire to come together as one. She was so ready, he slipped through her wetness and sank an inch inside her. He appreciated how she stretched to accommodate his girth, she savored the way only he could fill her. As she fluttered around him, his chest heaved with a loss of control. What he wanted was to nail her to the door with bruising thrusts, what she needed was to know that he was committed to making their relationship work.

            Their union became a jumble of moans and cries as they both conceded to the overwhelming power of their connection. Her legs coiled around his waist, gripping his hips, meeting each thrust with a grind of her own, finding the perfect angle to cause his pelvic bone to collide with her bundle of nerves as she stretched around him.

            They gripped one another tightly, both needing the connection with the other. Tears brimmed in Fitz’s eyes as his emotions overwhelmed him. He hated arguing with her, detested the thought of losing her, of never feeling her body like he did in this moment, their secret smiles, the strength she gave him. Olivia buried her hands in his hair, tugging gently, her fears of never holding him, of being left all alone to raise their child, tumbling down her cheeks in the form of her own tears. She wanted to say so many things, to tell him she loved him and she hadn’t meant to hurt him, that he would always be the father to their child in every way publicly and privately. She pondered the emotional scars she thought had long healed, feeling absolutely exposed to Fitz. When his lips left hers and moved to her collarbone, sampling the reddened flesh, she found her voice, “I’m sorry.” It floated softly from her lips, lingering between them, breaking his concentration and stilling his movements fleetingly.

            The words, simple, gentle, yet so much more than two words, shifted something within Fitz. He carried her to the bed, laying her down gently on the Egyptian cotton sheets, then climbed beside her. Her lips stung from the force of his earlier kisses and she shivered as he lay beside her, eyes traveling from her immaculately painted toes, along her rich honey calves, his finger feathering over the satiny skin of her lower abdomen. She was acutely aware of every inch of skin he touched, felt the singe of his flesh against hers, moisture gathering at the apex of her thighs as her body silently pleaded for his touch. She expected him to speak but instead he bent his lips to trace the bottom of her ribcage then along her sides to the peak of her hip, refusing to look into her face even when he felt her gaze settle on him.

            Olivia’s fingers played in his curls and she took it upon herself to break the relative quiet, “I love you Fitz.” His mouth pressed harder against the skin of her upper thigh then softened when he returned to her belly. She felt his lips moving and hear a low whisper but couldn’t make out his words. Before she could inquire about what he had said his hands were on her roughly again. He pressed her hard against the mattress, his hands moving to lift her hips to meet his. He was so hard against her thigh, a steel rod tempting her plush skin. Then he flipped them over, pulling her to straddle him and sliding into her in one fluid motion.

“Fitz.” She moaned in surprise as her walls welcomed him with a shudder. Her keening earned her a defiant smile before he returned his focus to the striking beauty atop him. The heat began at her very core, rising quickly to engulf her entire being. In her past, she had been lucky to come once with a man. With Fitz, the question wasn’t if she would come it was where, when, and how many times. The more he touched her, the more sensitized she became. Each climax came faster than the one before it until her orgasms were like rolling waves crashing over her, seeming to have no beginning and no end.

            Fitz watched as peak after peak rocked her body. After four orgasms Olivia collapsed against his broad chest, totally spent, and simply searching for rest. Olivia felt peace as the thud of his heart beat a rhythm she hoped belonged only to her. He hadn’t said a word but she sense it in the way he kissed her and touched her. Fitz gathered the down comforter around them leaving light kisses along her jaw as he covered them.

            They lay in silence for several minutes, Fitz staring at the ceiling while Olivia traced her finger over the muscles of his chest and abdomen.

“I’m not letting you marry someone else.” He was resolute, leaving no room for argument. She lifted her eyes to his but didn’t reply.

“You can decide what you want to say to the public and anyone else but I won’t agree to anything that keeps me away from you or our baby.” He was still firm but his voice had softened somewhat as his eyes gazed into hers.

            She nodded slightly then settled her head back on his chest, “What did you say?”

“Huh?”

“When you whispered to my belly,” she smiled.

            Fitz turned to his side, a crooked smile curving the corner of his mouth, “Nope, that’s between Peanut and I.”

“You two are plotting against me already?” she giggled.

“Maybe Dr. Block can help us figure out how to deal with everything,” Fitz said, feeling Olivia stiffen at the reminder of their upcoming appointment, “and there’s another thing, Liv.”

            Olivia lifted her head again to look at him, “What? What’s wrong?”

“The phone call earlier….” His voice trailed off, “It was Megan. Ellie called her. She knows about the baby.”