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The coffee is huge and iced, with cinnamon and vanilla and oat milk, which is all well and good — but it’s the third shot of espresso he knew to add that makes her smile.
And the dahlias are stunning, different shades of pink paired with a frosted greenery she’s never seen before, and she closes her eyes when she breathes them in.
But the little cream-colored card with a silvery border and a dainty red heart in the corner, and a note he clearly wrote himself?
I know you’re not ready for this, but when you are… I’m standing right here, Captain.
She believes him. She does, but the thing she can’t get past is the possibility of history repeating itself. What if he leaves? Or worse, what if someone or something takes him away?
“What if it doesn’t work out?” she’d asked, masking the real questions because they felt like too much , and he’d countered immediately, looking into her eyes with such complete certainty that it had taken everything in her to physically step away.
That wasn’t even two weeks ago and already she’s doubting her self-imposed limits, and for what? A perfectly flaky croissant and her favorite coffee? A gorgeous bouquet of flowers and, for all intents and purposes, a love note? “Jesus,” she mumbles under her breath, “get a grip.”
But as the day wears on, she thinks about that note.
I know you’re not ready for this…
Thinks about how Elliot had been there, for her and for Noah, when she needed someone she could trust like no other.
About how, after she’d backed herself into the corner by the fridge, he’d whispered, “Let me care for you, Liv,” and reached for her. And she’d gone; she’d gone straight into his arms and nearly collapsed with the relief of it all.
She thinks about how he’d held her like that, lips pressed to her temple, for what felt like forever, and then he had been the one to pull away, tenderly tucking her hair behind her ear and swiping a thumb across her cheek to catch the last tear, thanking her for trusting him and reminding her to call him if she needed anything, anything at all. “I’ll protect you,” he’d said solemnly, but with the slightest hint of a smile and a mischievous little look, and it had been the exact right amount of levity to dissolve whatever tension was left in the air.
Olivia thinks about the text he’d sent a couple days later, just to check in. And how he’d dropped by with lunch a few days after that, and about the drowsy late-night phone calls they’d shared, talking about everything and nothing.
She thinks maybe she isn’t ready for this, but it’s happening anyway, however subtly, and she likes it, a lot. It feels good to let go. It feels good to be cared for.
I know you’re not ready for this, but when you are…
Maybe she isn’t ready for all of it, not just yet, but Olivia starts to think maybe she’s ready for some of it.
Ready to see if it does work out.
She leaves work earlier than usual (much to Fin’s delight, but the man is smart enough to keep his mouth shut about it) and stops at a little grocery to pick up a bottle of wine and some tea and a few other things, and then, fighting her nerves, Olivia drives until she finds an open parking spot half a block away from his apartment.
Elliot opens the door looking slightly disheveled after a full day of work, and she spends so long staring at the undone buttons on his shirt that he has to call her name twice before she shifts her focus to his face. “Is everything okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, sorry. Yeah, I’m fine. I just—” Olivia pauses, breathes, continues. “I just wanted to say thank you. For today, I mean — the croissant and the coffee and the flowers. And…” She extends her arm, holding out a small but heavy item. “I wanted to bring you this.”
“Sugar?” He looks confused for a split second, and then she sees a soft smile begin to spread across his lips.
I know you’re not ready for this, but when you are… I’m standing right here, Captain.
“Mhmm. Elliot?”
The sparks in his eyes catch fire. “Yeah, Liv?”
“You’re not dismissed.”