Chapter Text
For three months, Lizzie works her butt off, getting her company launched. Lining up investors had been the relatively easy part, compared to finding and setting up an office space, hiring two employees, and actually working on video projects. There is very little down time; she works five, six, sometimes seven days a week, trying to gain footing and establish herself as a credible, reliable source.
The small amount of down time that she finds in the cracks and crevices of her schedule usually becomes William Darcy time. After all, she is also trying to gain footing in a new relationship, and establish herself as a credible, reliable girlfriend.
All the myriad facets of this new life are demanding, but Lizzie does not feel burnt out. It is all new and chaotic and makes her constantly rethink her previous mindsets, but she loves it all. She loves the adult-ness of living in San Francisco and having her own apartment – choosing her own furniture, paying her own bills, even doing all of her own grocery shopping. She loves creating, developing, producing videos that have the potential to change the culture. She loves her relationship, the solidity and dependency of it, knowing him better with each day that passes. She loves sitting in his kitchen and laughing together while eating take-out, not buying a footboard for her bed because his feet hang off the end, seeing his shampoo in her shower, finding articles of his clothing in her laundry hamper.
She is not burnt out, not stressed or taxed by this exciting, challenging new life, yet she looks forward to Labor Day all the same. She had moved into her office the week after Independence Day, and her editor Kenneth and assistant Rob were hired the week after that, so Labor Day is Lizzie’s first official holiday since starting her own business. She doesn’t admit it to anyone, but she finds a certain giddiness to being a part of the ‘system,’ taking a Federal holiday just like every other business owner and working stiff in the city, state, country.
Lizzie misses the close female connections in her life. For over 24 years, she was surrounded by her sisters and best friend, and, even though she knows that they are growing up, settling into jobs and relationships, she sometimes feels off-kilter because they are out of arm’s reach. It is the only negative to her new life.
Seeing her sisters and Charlotte on her computer screen, or hearing their voices on her phone, is not the same as being able to hug, or high-five (in Lydia’s case), or sit around on the floor in their pajamas while eating from the same ice cream tub and watching period dramas.
Even GiGi has fled the area, leaving Lizzie’s life woefully estrogen-deficient.
So, when Lizzie is able to convince both Lydia and Charlotte to visit her for Labor Day weekend, she bites the bullet, schedules Friday, August 30 as her first vacation day, and talks her sister and best friend into a four-day weekend.
Lizzie wants to soak up the girl time, watch chick flicks and go shopping and have brunch at that adorable tea shop that makes William look like he’s having a hernia repaired whenever they walk by and she threatens to drag him in.
Lizzie knows that this is it for a while, that airfare and bus fare is pricey, and her calendar is tightly-packed. She knows that it may be Thanksgiving before she sees these faces in person again.
With that in mind, she tells William – as gently yet kindly-authoritative as she can – that she will be off-limits for the duration of her company’s stay. She tries to be concise in her explanation, but ends up rambling for five minutes about the indisputable fact that he is a male and she is a female and sometimes she has a need for non-sexual same-sex gender associations and that is a need that he will never be able to satisfy. Just when she fears that she has confused him beyond repair, or possibly even offended him, he leans over, kisses her on her forehead, and murmurs, “Lizzie, whatever you need... I understand.” He then pulled her close, kissed her head again, “I will miss you, but I understand.”
Wednesday night, William intends to stay at Lizzie’s apartment. Lizzie’s apartment, which unfortunately represents her existence; the neglect of being lived in by a person who spends 60 hours a week at her job, spends half of her nights at her boyfriend’s condo, and doesn’t have the funds to hire a maid service. Though he gently reminds her that neither Charlotte nor Lydia will judge her for having to pull clean-yet-unfolded towels out of a laundry basket, or having dust bunnies under her sofa, Lizzie is in full panic mode.
He offers to help, even pulls her factory-reconditioned vacuum out of the hall closet and asks for her directions.
Lizzie rejects his assistance, pushes him out the door, and sends him home with two short, sweet kisses and one long and detailed kiss against her door frame. She tells him that she will be up until it’s all done, and she can’t do that to him, so he should go home to the welcoming comfort of his indulgently spacious, fluffy bed.
He wants to remind her that, if they work together, they will be done in half the time, and her much-less-indulgent bed can welcome both of them. But he sees the frenzy in her eyes, knows that it has nothing to do with him tonight, knows that it is a frenzy to prove to her friends and family that she is capable of managing her own life and her own household.
William smiles softly as he kisses her the final time. Lizzie assumes that his smile is amusement at her peculiarities, but really he smiles because he is honored to be the only one who sees the messy reality behind the magic curtain.