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roamwithahungryheart · 2 months
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Had a breakdown, started writing this, bon appetit.
Tedbecca reunion fic. Be prepared for angst.
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ao3feed-tedlasso · 3 months
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Happy New Year
https://ift.tt/JrYApvt by LaurenWritesFics Rebecca's true feelings for Ted come to the surface after several glasses of champagne at a New Year's Eve party. Words: 1652, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Ted Lasso (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: Gen Characters: Ted Lasso, Rebecca Welton, Trent Crimm, Keeley Jones, Roy Kent, Rupert Mannion Relationships: Ted Lasso/Rebecca Welton, Ted Lasso & Rebecca Welton, Keeley Jones/Roy Kent, Keeley Jones & Roy Kent Additional Tags: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers source https://archiveofourown.org/works/52729225 January 02, 2024 at 03:11AM
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Sure enough, there were several messages on Liza’s phone in the morning. But with her head so clouded, she ignored them. She had bigger problems. Like getting to work on time when she’d overslept. Like figuring out what to say to Henry.
She hadn’t even been drunk last night. Tipsy confidence had always been troublesome for her, but never enough to potentially get her fired. With every step, she scolded herself. When she reached the top floor of the office, she bit her lip almost hard enough to draw blood to fight the curse on her lips. Passing the open meeting room, Charles, Alexander and Henry were waiting. And Henry didn’t look happy.
She stopped fighting.
“Shit.”
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Slipping quietly into the nearest chair, she pulled out her notepad and pen and pretended not to notice the concern on the faces of the men surrounding her.
“Glad you could join us, Miss Brooks.” Charles sat with his hands clasped, barely blinking. “Henry was just telling us about crossing paths with Grayson Hunt in Paris.”
“Oh?” Liza swallowed the lump in her throat.
“There’s been a rather unsavoury development.” He leaned back in his chair. “Hunt’s planning on taking PatentDream from us.”
“He muscled in on our conversation with Sybille Fontaine for his own gain, as usual.” Henry scoffed. “He’s obviously doing it so he can appear to be progressive and inclusive. And just to spite us. We’re going to have to work hard to get Sybille back on board.”
“Really? She didn’t seem too impressed by him at the conference.”
“He has his ways, unfortunately.”
“Luckily for us, so does Liza.” Henry winked discreetly.
Liza straightened her back and put down her pen. “I’ll try to set up another conference call for later in the week – I know both Sybille and Grayson are going to be busy over the next few weeks so time is ticking on. But I have every confidence we’ll be able to win her back.”
“With Henry’s supervision, of course.” Charles nodded.
Henry adjusted his tie, visibly irritated. “If Liza needs my help, she’ll ask for it. She’s perfectly capable of doing this for us, Charles. You were the one who appointed her as Head of Communications, were you not?”
Charles sighed heavily, defeated. “If this goes south, it will be a blow to our reputation. There’s no room for error here, Miss Brooks.”
Frustration brewed in the pit of Liza’s stomach. “I’ll set up that conference call immediately.”
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When the men were stood, Henry turned to Liza, his voice hushed. “I need to speak with Charles for a few minutes. Go to my office. Send an email from my account. That way, when he sees you’re handling the call, we can catch him off guard.”
“I like the way you think.” She gave him the subtlest of smiles.
“I had a feeling you might.” He returned her subtlety. “What happens next is entirely up to you.”
She looked up at him curiously. “Interesting…I’m on it.”
As she left the room, Henry followed a few steps behind, leaning round the glass partition. “Oh, and I haven’t forgotten about that drink.”
“Shall I check your calendar?”
“No need. I’ll see you tonight.”
If they had been alone, Liza would have been more visibly flustered. Instead, she stood a little straighter and managed to keep her voice just even enough to seem calm. However, she skimmed over a reply, deflecting wryly.
“Have fun in there.”
He rolled his eyes, grinned and headed back into the room.
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In Henry’s office, Liza was holding back every biting remark she so desperately wanted to unleash upon Grayson. Recent top floor renovations had caused the wi-fi signal to be a little patchy, and Liza was grateful that the first few minutes of Grayson’s camera glitching gave her enough time to control her thoughts.
It amused her that the usually immaculate Grayson Hunt was sitting at his desk wearing a slightly crumpled shirt, a single strand of hair out of place. It was two o’clock in the morning in Los Angeles, and he was clutching a cut-crystal whiskey tumbler, swilling his drink as he greeted her.
“So, he’s got you doing his dirty work, huh?”
“Hi, Grayson.”
He wasn’t letting up. “I thought you were more than just his secretary.”
Now he was getting on her nerves. “I am. Not that you would have noticed.” Liza blinked hard, mentally chastising herself for almost making things personal. “Charles asked me to handle this call. So if you don’t mind, let’s get to the matter at hand.”
“Whatever you say, Liza.”
She was inwardly seething already.
“I won’t mince my words here, Grayson. What made you decide to steal Sybille from us?”
“Liza, please.” He tutted. “This is business. Don’t make things personal.”
“Seems as though you already have.”
He tilted his head and sat back in his chair. “Henry said something to you, didn’t he. That man has you wrapped around his little finger.”
He did, but Liza wasn’t going to admit it. Least of all to his sworn business enemy. “Whatever rivalry you two have going on, it’s jeopardising company growth. And your reputation.”
“My reputation?” Grayson scoffed. “A young, successful start-up is the best place for a company like PatentDream. I’m not the one who should be worried about my reputation.”
“Congratulations, you’ve just said everything I need to hear. Goodbye, Grayson.”
With that, Liza ended the call and let out a frustrated groan.
It was at that moment that Henry walked in.
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“Everything okay?” He frowned.
“I’m not sure I can do this.” Liza dipped her head, letting out a sigh.
“Yes you can. Hunt’s a cocky bastard, but we can get this deal back on track. You did a pretty good job with him in Paris, so you can do it again.”
Liza rested a hand on the desk. “You have no idea.”
Henry’s frown deepened, his jaw tightening. “What do you mean?”
“Well, unless you want me to pull a Pretty Woman, I think we’re going to have to let Sybille go over to the dark side.”
“Let me handle this.”
Liza felt the tension in his hands as he guided her away from the desk. His grip on her shoulders was a little stronger than she was used to. He was angry, and she hadn’t really seen him angry before. At least, not like this.
Liza attempted to lighten the mood. “You look like you’re going to need that drink.”
“Absolutely.”
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@harrysthiccthighss @foodieforthoughts @cavillsbestgal @myloveforhenrycavill @cherry-gemz @blowing-mikey @captainsy-cookiemonster @pussyverson @sillyrabbit81 @viking-raider @demivampirew @zealoushound @keanureevesisbae @honeyloverogers @littlewrenofrivia @beck07990 @christhickevans @luna-aestas @luclittlepond @kebabgirl67 @angreav @omgkatinka @mostly-marvel-musings @cavillsthighs @littlebirdofrivia @angelcavill66 @darklydeliciousdesires @henrys-little-princess @wheretheriversrunintothesea @herefortherealdeal @cavills-little-princess @mis-lil-red @mansaaay @thwick @marytudorbrandon @uncensored-steve-the-platypus @nerdyoldsoul @charmed-asylum @saiyanprincessswanie @aletheladyinred @thereisa8ella​ @janenyfl @ricciardothot@summersong69 @miss-rebel-without-applause @abschaffer2 @scorpiobitch95 @marantha @burberrybaby @notabronte @unauthorizedhenry @melisssaa
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laurenwritesfics · 3 years
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Drive All Night
A drabble inspired by one of my favorite Bruce Springsteen songs...
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Home. Whether it’s found somewhere or in someone, it’s always clothed in duality. If you’ve never thought it was possible to be in two places at once, you’ve never been to Los Angeles. From the heated rush of bodies down Rodeo Drive at midday to the midnight drives down the winding lanes of Laurel Canyon, time always finds a way to move differently.
There’s a soft crunch of rubber against dirt as a black Jeep comes to a stop on a grassy verge.
Taking a long, deep breath, Chris steels himself and pushes back into humid leather. He’s surrounded by bright city lights, but he’s never felt more shrouded in darkness. He hasn’t slept. There are empty paper cups strewn across the floor. Every inch of the car smells like coffee, tobacco and sweat. He wouldn’t have started smoking again if it hadn’t happened. He wouldn’t have left if he’d just given himself one more second. One more chance to take a breath. Take another step. If he’d given himself the chance to shut off the bristling static in his brain. He had a talent for overthinking that from the outside looked like thoughtlessness. Callousness. Reckless impulsivity. Every time a wall was knocked down, he’d find a way to rebuild it.
He exhales again with a whistle, fingers tenting together as he casts his eyes to the ceiling. Only the thud of the windshield wipers breaks the thick silence.
After a beat, he turns the radio dial and drives away. It crackles as the signal dips and hailstones pummel the glass, quickly melting into dull rain. Organizing his thoughts is like untangling a ball of rubber bands, and he can feel each one of them snap, a jolt running through his spine.
The familiar white door comes into view. His muscles relax against the steering wheel and he almost parks in the driveway. Thin branches hit his shoulder with a wet slap as he slides out of the car. The warm porch light makes him squint, droplets of rain trickling from his lashes as he looks down at his feet, rocking on his heels a little. He steadies himself, reaches out and then quickly retracts his hand.
What the hell was he going to say?
He knocks.
“Chris?” She’s standing in a loose sweatshirt, rubbing her damp hair with a towel. “What the fuck-”
“I know.” Chris starts. A quick glance through the doorway reveals a tower of cardboard boxes in the hallway. “I know you don’t give a shit. I know I don’t deserve it. But I couldn’t leave without seeing you one last time.”
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pepperonyfic · 3 years
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You're The One That I Want
Author:  LaurenWritesFics Rating: gen Word Count: <2k Genre(s): family Film-specific: mid endgame Tropes: movie night, grease, five year gap, dancing
Summary:  The Stark family enjoy movie night.
READ HERE: AO3
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sweetdreamsofgelato · 2 years
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Do you read any other Henry fics? Do you have any that you recommend? I've read all yours and now I'm lost!
Firstly, thank you so much for reading all of my stories! 🥺I am beyond flattered. ❤️😭
Sadly, I don't get much reading done these days (fan fiction or otherwise) because L I F E, but the Cavillry is absolutely packed with talent.
I will tag a few writers I've either read or have earmarked to read but be aware there are so so many other writers in the fandom. This is nowhere near a comprehensive list.
(This is an open call for anyone and everyone to drop into the comments with any author or fic recs for Henry and his characters. Self-promotions 💯welcome!)
(Disclaimer: Always read content warnings!)
@a-little-counter-esperanto (also known as @laurenwritesfics)
@write-r-die
@hlkwrites
@the-soot-sprite
@notabronte
@littlefreya
@nuggsmum
@lunedelorient
@viking-raider
@angryschnauzerwrites
@pterodactylterrace
@nashibirne
@luna-aestas
@thelastsock
@foodieforthoughts
@the-space-between-heartbeats (highly recommend A Murmuration of Starlings, if you like The Witcher)
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thedamageofherdays · 3 years
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This week's [30-08-2021 - 05-09-2021] reading log is here! I didn't read as much this week because I had quite a busy week but I still have a few fics I really want to share because they were so lovely! There's a mix of different ships this week, though the majority is still Stucky.
Favourites are marked with 🌻, Tumblr-Only fics are marker with 🍀.
Truth or Dare by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 665 words, Teen]
It all starts with a dare, as so many things tend to do.
Au-Gust day 29: Pretend relationship
🌻 the dizzy, dancing way you feel by its_tortle @its-tortle [Evanstan, 4,4k words, Teen]
“We should go to Disney World,” Chris announces in the car.
“Haven’t you been, like, a dozen times?”
Chris looks up from his phone, his eyes dancing. “The magic never stops, Sebby.”
Sebastian rolls his eyes, but he already knows he’ll cave. It really isn’t his thing, but he likes Chris more than he hates roller coasters. Likes him too much, that is.
🍀 Body Talk by @boxofbonesfic [Bucky x Reader, Explicit]
You’re determined to come out of this breakup a better you, but Bucky likes the you you are. 
Loosen Me Up by this_wayward_life [Stucky, 4,8k words, Explicit]
"Please tell me there are no more appointments and we can close early."
Darcy looks down at her computer, giving the keyboard a few taps with her long, bright red acrylics. How she even manages to type with those things on, Bucky has no idea.
"Just one more. A Steve Rogers coming in at seven. Says he thinks he strained a muscle at the gym."
"A gym junkie?" Bucky grimaces, and Darcy clucks sympathetically.
"Hey, at least it's not another divorced mother who'll try and take a bite out of you. Or another old man who's just there to get his rocks off."
"You know this isn't a brothel, right?" Bucky frowns, making Darcy grin.
Or: Masseur Bucky gets a lot more than he bargained for when he takes Steve Rogers on as a client.
🌻 to changing by christywantspizza @christywantspizza [Stucky, 10,9k words, Mature]
Steve and Bucky's first evening out on a date goes wonderfully and as they get closer and learn to open up to each other, they deal with the shift in their relationship.
Written for Stucky Week 2021 | Day 6 - Kisses
Paused by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 679 words, Teen]
It’s been a year since that day. Since Bucky had woken up and found the world had ended. Well, not so much ended as… stopped.
AU-gust day 30- The Day the World Died
🌻 Five More Minutes by BonkyBornes @padfoot-and-the-marauders [Stucky, 3k words, Not Rated]
Bucky leaned against the counter, still looking pale but better than when he’d first woken up. A mug of coffee was cupped between his palms. He brightened when he saw the two of them. Setting his coffee down, he held his arms out for Cat. Steve passed her over, but not before giving Bucky a kiss. His lips were dry, but he didn’t seem as warm as before.
“Papa’s sick?” Catríona asked as soon as she was on his hip.
“Papa’s fine,” Steve heard Bucky say, his voice a little hoarse, as he made his way back upstairs to get dressed. “Your dada’s just a little overdramatic.”
🍀 Stucky fic by @ipoiledi [Stucky, Explicit]
“Oh,” Steve moans. “Oh, you ain’t playin’ fair, Barnes.”
“When in our lives,” Bucky asks, “Have I ever played fair?”
🍀 Stucky fic by @misspluckyplum [Stucky, Mature]
Based on Wreckless Love by Alicia Keys
The hat was dusty, musty. Steve had found a hat box at a Marshalls, maybe, and stored them away for Bucky.
🍀 Stucky fic 2 by @misspluckyplum [Stucky, Mature]
Based on Ice Cream by Sarah McLachlan
“We’ve really come a long way.” Bucky snorted, looking up from over the pint of mint chocolate chunk they were sharing. “In uh, what context there, sugar,” he asked, winking. Steve rolled his eyes at him.
🍀 Chris x Reader fic by @laurenwritesfics [Chris x Reader, General]
You never would have guessed that in 48 hours you'd be married. + Steve Rogers
Eyes of the Forest by lordelannette [Stucky, 20,1k words, Explicit] (5/8 chapters available)
When Omega Bucky Barnes comes to Eagle Lake, it was in search of wolves, a creature that had not been seen in the area for decades.
What he finds instead is Steve Rogers, a handsome, though quiet Alpha who seems to be everywhere in the forest.
Grab Me a Cup, Doll? by oldasyouromens [Stucky, 2,1k words, Teen]
Steve moves to stand from the table, running his hand across Bucky’s back and murmuring something about getting coffee.
Bucky’s sleep-addled brain takes a minute to catch up, but he calls to Steve over the hum of conversation, “Can you grab me a cup, too, doll?”
“Excuse me?”
-
Some miscommunications at the weekly Avengers Sunday Brunch.
🍀 Pre War Stucky fic by @moonykat & @turtle-steverogers
pre war stucky staying the weekend at bucky’s aunt’s house because she lives upstate. she’s gone for the weekend and so they have this house to themselves, and it’s further removed from a lot of people, so they have the privacy to explore each other
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cherry-gemz · 3 years
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WIP Wednesday
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Working on this Drabble with Before We Go as the premise. I needed resolution on how Nick and Brooke ended their night. I'm all about serendipitous moments, but gosh dangit this ending. Sorry if you haven't seen it yet 😮, spoilers under the cut.
Pairings: Nick Vaughn and Y/N (changed from MC Brooke)
What are you working on? @theycallmebecca @laurenwritesfics @keanureevesisbae @justanotherwriter23
You sniff and rub the end of your coat sleeve with your nose. Had to be the chill in the air, you thought. Not the fact that you just spend the most amazing and life changing night with a man you just met hours before.
You stare out the train’s window; the gentle hum of the cart gliding across the steel tracks echoed in your thoughts. You shook your head in thinking that you made a mistake. I should have stayed...I should have told him how I felt…
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lovebittenbyevans · 3 years
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🌺 send this to ten bloggers you think are wonderful. keep the game going 🌺
Awww thank you ❤❤ @christhickevans
Tag: @denisemarieangelina @worksby-d @mary-ann84 @avintagekiss24 @hollandcentwoods @hood-classic @punani @miss-wanderer-baby @for-fucks-sake-h @mrs-hollandstan @lauras-collection @laurenwritesfics @nix-akimbo @nix-degraves @fairytalebby
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eurynome827 · 3 years
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Hey! So awesome that you're out here supporting and uplifting fellow writers! Saw you writing sideblogs post and wondered if you could please add mine - laurenwritesfics thank youuuu keep being awesome💖
Yes of course, my dear!
I've added three writers to this post since this morning! I would love to promote more writer sideblogs - please send me yours if you have one! I have reached the maximum of fancy links in that post, so I will make a part two if I get more ❤️
Edit:
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roamwithahungryheart · 2 months
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Two more chapters added with more to come today!
Sorry that I keep making Ted sad. It will happen again.
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ao3feed-tedlasso · 3 months
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In Sickness and in Elf
https://ift.tt/10rWnTc by LaurenWritesFics Rebecca is sick, and Ted goes out of his way to look after her. Words: 1474, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Ted Lasso (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: Gen Characters: Ted Lasso, Rebecca Welton, Leslie Higgins Relationships: Ted Lasso/Rebecca Welton, Ted Lasso & Rebecca Welton Additional Tags: Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Friends to Lovers source https://archiveofourown.org/works/52502662 December 25, 2023 at 03:50AM
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How to Outfox a Billionaire
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There was only one thing Henry hated more than early morning meetings – early morning meetings with his father. There wasn’t enough coffee in the world to endure them. Thankfully, though, this would be the very last. After thirty years as the head of The Stirling Group, Colin Cavill was retiring, handing over to one of his five sons. He had called them to the office individually, in order of age. As the second youngest, the expectation that he would be asked to fill his father’s position was low. At least, according to his brothers it was. When he entered the office, he was met with the sight of two cut crystal glasses on the desk, a bottle of Glenmorangie sitting between them.
“Close the door.” Colin directed, picking up the bottle and pouring two generous measures.
Henry slouched in his chair, hands clasped. “Put me out of my misery. Who’s getting it? Piers?”
Colin chuckled. “God no. I wouldn’t trust that boy as far as I could throw him.” He took a swig of his whisky. “I considered dividing the responsibilities between the five of you. But I knew that only one of you would be able to handle things the way they need to be.” The glass thudded against the polished mahogany. “That’s you, Henry.”
Henry sat up then, choking on a sip. “Why me? I haven’t got a fucking clue about any of this.”
“You’ll learn.” Colin smiled. “I see a lot of myself in you. I’m confident this is the right decision. You underestimate yourself. You always have. Throwing you in at the deep end just might be the wake-up call you need.”
“Or a death sentence for the company.”
“I have every faith in you. I think you’ll be surprised at how capable you are.”
“I hope to God you’re right.” He knocked back another large gulp of whiskey, the burn hitting him hard and fast. “Fucking hell, I’m not drunk enough for this.”
“Neither am I.” Colin topped up their glasses, clinked them together and sat back in his chair.
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He had spent the morning walking around the building, surveying his empire one last time. Of course, as anyone about to make a life-altering decision does, he had briefly wondered if this was the right thing to do. He wasn’t ill. He certainly wasn’t incapable of running the company anymore. He wasn’t doing this out of necessity. It was the next step in educating the boys he and his wife Marianne had so impeccably raised. Spending their formative years at one of the most prestigious boarding schools in London had made them reasonably self-sufficient, there was no doubt about that. The only worrying thing – at least, to Marianne – was whether it would mean that they lived their lives in a bubble of safety. They would always be provided for if they needed it. There was wealth to fall back on. Status. There was always the danger of complacency. Thrust into a world with limitations, Colin needed to know that they could cope with pressure. So, here he was, entrusting his life’s work to the son who had never had a head for business.
Piers would be fucking livid. The thought amused Henry far more than it should have. It wasn’t that he was entitled, he was just a little too cocky. The curse of being the eldest child, assuming that he would have an input in every decision. Perhaps that was why Colin had chosen Henry – he was young enough to be molded into the man the company needed him to be, and old enough to understand the weight of the responsibilities he would inherit.
It was ironic, really. In spite of the family’s wealth, Henry lived modestly in a cramped mews house in Kensington. He was careful with his money, of course, but he also wasn’t opposed to the occasional lavish gift – a £20,000 Birkin for a now ex-girlfriend had barely left a dent in his account. She, however, had left a considerable one in his heart. But it didn’t take long for him to smooth it out. He was remarkably resilient. He saw pain and adversity as a learning opportunity, a chance for growth. Accepting this position, and his father’s trust, would enable him to push the boundaries he’d long imposed upon himself.
When he arrived home that evening, stretching out on his chunky grey sofa, his head was still in a whirl from the mixture of alcohol and information. It occurred to him then that he wasn’t at all ready. But with unwavering international renown and an entire workforce at his beck and call, he didn’t need to be.
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“Good morning, Mr. Cavill.”
At thirty-eight, Henry was older than his father had been when he’d joined The Stirling Group. However, it soon became clear that he wouldn’t need to prove himself. The name alone carried intimidating weight, but Henry’s broad six-foot-one frame gave him an instantly commanding presence. With a subtle flick of his wrist, the sleeve of his black Oxford shirt pulled back beneath his suit jacket as he glanced at his watch. Exactly nine o’clock. Perfectly punctual. The soft hint of a smile slid across his full lips, a single strand of thick dark hair falling into an errant curl against his forehead.
“Good morning, Mel.” He nodded.
Mel had worked for The Stirling group for almost as many years as Colin had. She had watched the boys grow up, the image of them taking turns to spin in their father’s chair and doodle on rolls of fax paper still vivid in her mind. She regarded Henry with maternal fondness. The little boy who had run around the office in his father’s suit jacket, tie loose around his neck giving mock-orders to his father’s colleagues wasn’t playing pretend anymore. The power in his stride increased as he hurried upstairs to what was now his office. He hadn’t been to the gym this morning – he’d have to ask Mel to make an appointment later. Now, he steeled himself as he came face to face with the new plaque on the door.
Henry W.D. Cavill, CEO.
He smirked, a small huff of breath escaping his lips. The room was filled with half-packed cardboard boxes, numerous business awards stuffed awkwardly into thin tissue paper. His grandfather’s cricket ball sat on the desk. He picked it up, tossing it in the air a few times. There were little pieces of the family’s legacy in every corner of the room. He would have to keep something. Just as he was about to toss the ball into a box, he paused, catching sight of a wooden picture frame. Setting the ball back on the desk, he leaned in to take a closer look. A family portrait, taken on the grounds of their expansive home in Jersey – arms around each other, the love between them palpable. This, he would keep. Henry valued family above all else, no matter how much they fought or how the natural progression of adulthood had separated them. The Stirling Group was an extension of his family, and it was this realization that made him a little more comfortable with the prospect of leading the company. He wasn’t filling his father’s shoes, he was just walking a few steps ahead.
Henry rolled his shoulders and leaned against the desk, his long fingers tracing the scratches in the mahogany. He righted himself, raised his chin and adjusted the single button of his suit jacket when a knock sounded at the door. Mel took a step forward, standing at the threshold of the room.
“HR sent me to pick up these boxes.”
Henry could see her better now, in the mid-morning sunlight. The kind wrinkles around her eyes, the lopsided smile. She seemed smaller than he remembered. More gentle, if that was even possible. He gestured around the room before shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking on his heels.
“Not by yourself, I hope. Let me help.”
Mel tutted, swatting a hand at him. “You’ve got enough to do today. I’ll take care of it.”
Henry was already stacking the boxes, hoisting them into his arms. “Absolutely not.” He moved around the desk. “Besides, I missed my fasted cardio this morning. Two birds, one stone.”
“Oh, go on.” Mel rolled her eyes, patting him on the back as he passed her.
Once the office was cleared, he removed his suit jacket and sunk into the brown leather chair, the heat of it seeping through his shirt. He stroked the curve of the arms, swivelling back and forth, taking in the vast emptiness of the space. He found himself planning the ways he could make it his own, and a sense of belonging settled in his chest. He popped a button on his shirt and turned to log into his computer. He was greeted with a barrage of emails, to which he composed thoughtful replies. Then, an email from Charles Stirling interrupted his polite streak.
“Fuck.” He muttered softly before rising from the desk.
The full conference room suggested that this was an important meeting. The fact that co-founders Charles Stirling and Alexander Holt were stood, arms crossed, at the end of the room confirmed it.
Charles barely gave Henry the chance to take a breath before he launched into his opening speech.
“Firstly, to the man who has just joined us, we’d like to welcome you to the company. We’re all looking forward to working with you. New leadership means a new direction for the company. Henry, your arrival has come at just the right time.” He paused, harrumphing. “The annual summer gala will be taking place in just a few weeks’ time. In addition, this morning, I received an invitation to one of the most important events in our calendar – the OneShot Global Leadership conference. This year it will be held in Paris. Henry, Alexander and I will be attending, so I trust you won’t be needing a hand to hold to keep things afloat while we’re away.” An amused murmur spread through the room. “We should be proud of ourselves, gentlemen. This is a very good time for The Stirling Group. A very good time indeed. It’s about time things changed around here –“
“No offense.” Alexander chimed in.
“None taken.” Henry raised a hand and chuckled.
Charles clapped his hands together. “You will all receive an email with the relevant details. Let’s keep these figures high. Meeting adjourned.”
As the other men filed out of the room, Charles approached Henry, slapping him on the shoulder. “Sorry to throw you in at the deep end.”
“That’s okay, I don’t mind a challenge.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” He winked awkwardly, giving his shoulder another pat. “I imagine your French is a little better than your father’s, the poor chap.” There was an amused glint in his eyes, an anecdote hidden inside them.
“I don’t know about that, I’m a little rusty myself.” In truth, he was downplaying his skills – he was fluent in both Italian and French, but repressed his confidence out of habit.
“We’ll see.” Charles opened the door. “I’ll arrange for an interpreter to be brought along regardless.”
“Sounds like a plan. Thank you, Charles.” He stuttered.
Charles straightened the sleeve of his jacket. “Well, back to business. Good luck.”
Feeling the eyes of his colleagues upon him as he made his way back to his office, the same warm wave of belonging hit him again. He didn’t need luck when he was surrounded by people who both feared and respected him instantly.
Perhaps he could get used to this after all.
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laurenwritesfics · 3 years
Text
Untidy Lives (Full story)
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"But, you know, ultimately, we learned that…life just isn’t always so tidy. And God’s plan isn’t always so easy to understand."
Three years. Three events that change the course of life as they know it. Sometimes the smallest moments lead to the biggest adventures. April's decision to move to Boston wasn't an easy one. But neither was the life she had before Jackson changed everything...again.
Warning(s): Alcohol consumption, mention of loss of a child, death of a loved one
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YEAR ONE:
There was only one person April Kepner could truly count on to brighten up a dull day – her mother, Karen, and it seemed she had taken that duty literally. Crunching up the driveway in white heels and a sunshine yellow dress, she greeted April with a screech, enveloping her in a tight hug.
Today, Harriet Kepner-Avery was turning one.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, honey.” Karen pulled back, holding April’s wrists. “Let me look at you.” Her eyes drifted from her daughter’s warm cinnamon hair to her loose blouse, jeans and white sneakers. Throughout April’s adolescence, people had gushed over how much she looked like her mother. Now, she was an entirely separate person. No longer her mother’s shadow. Karen tutted.
“Is this what you’re wearing?”
April sighed. “I didn’t have time-“
“Nonsense,” Karen wafted a hand, “your father’s getting the gifts from the car. Go freshen up. We’ll keep the birthday girl occupied for a little while. Besides…” she trailed off, miming a gagging motion and nodding towards the stain on her shoulder.
April pulled at the soft cotton and frowned. How long had that stain been there? She didn’t know. The discovery of the stain had diverted her train of thought. She leaned over Karen’s shoulder and caught a glimpse of the familiar blue Volvo.
“Wait, Dad’s here?”
Karen was interrupted – a rare occurrence in their almost forty year marriage – by her husband, Joe. He ambled towards the two of them, lugging a stack of immaculately wrapped gifts.
“Well, hello there Little Miss!”
“Dad! I thought you were working on the farm?”
“What, and miss my granddaughter’s first birthday? Not a chance!” Joe chortled. Karen took two boxes from the top of the pile when Joe arrived at the doorstep. “And I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to this one.” He inclined his head, his voice soft and peppy as he reached past April to tweak Harriet’s nose.
April whipped around to see Matthew bouncing a half-asleep Harriet in his arms. “She’s supposed to be napping for another hour.” She chided.
“I know, but it’s her first birthday. I don’t want her to miss it.”
“She’ll miss it when she uses her ice cream cake as a pillow because she didn’t get a whole nap.”
Matthew huffed. “I think Mommy underestimates me.”
April ignored him, one foot in the doorway. “I’m gonna go change my shirt. You can put the gifts in the living room.”
Karen followed her inside while Matthew, Harriet and Joe moved to the back yard.
As much as she hated to admit it, her mother was right. Changing into a floral blouse and a pair of flats – and at Karen’s insistence, some light makeup – although April felt tired, she didn’t look it anymore. With a final scrunch of her hair and a pop of her lips, she peered out of the bedroom window. Harriet was sat in the grass, her tiny fingers wrapped around the string of a pink balloon. Jackson was pulling the string, making it bob up and down, much to Harriet’s delight. Shit. Jackson. She had assumed he would be late, fresh from the hospital. She blinked rapidly, taken aback, and rushed out of the room. Karen found April with her head in the refrigerator.
“Mom, can you get the candles?”
“What’s the rush?” Karen exclaimed.
April tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, leaning back to meet her mother’s baffled gaze. “Jackson’s here.”
“Oh.” She replied flatly, rifling through every drawer in the kitchen island. “Where are the darn matches?”
“I’m married to a First Responder, remember? They’re in a super-secret safe place that nobody on Earth can find.”
“Of course,” she shook her head in amusement “I’ll go ask him.”
“No,” April stepped away from the refrigerator to block her path “I’ll go. The paper plates and napkins are in the-“
“Third drawer, I know.” Karen pressed a hand to her cheek. “Take a breath. Go out there and enjoy it. I can take care of everything.”
Karen Kepner was a woman of her word. She had fussed over Harriet from the moment she was born. April would usually have found this irritating, but losing Samuel, her first-born, changed that. Karen dropped everything to be with April and Jackson while they grieved. While Jackson worked and April sat sobbing on the couch in their cramped condo. When April got up in the middle of the night, convinced she could hear his cries and Jackson couldn’t console her. What might have seemed like interfering before was now a blessing. Harriet was a blessing. And April was going to experience every moment with her to the fullest extent.
Outside, Joe and Matthew were hunched over the barbecue.
“Mommy’s here!” Matthew hollered, a few whoops and cheers sounding behind him. He sauntered over to April and wrapped his arms around her, lowering his voice to a sultry whisper. “And Mommy looks hot.”
April pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “I should go and say hi to everyone before the cake’s brought out.” Her hands slipped from his chest. It wasn’t hard for Matthew to work out that by ‘everyone’, she meant Jackson. She mingled with family and friends, ate one of Joe’s famous almost-cremated burgers, cuddled and cooed at Harriet. From the outside, it looked easy for her. On the inside, it took every ounce of strength she had.
The moment her eyes locked with Jackson’s, Matthew strolled over, one hand placed protectively on the small of her back.
Her past and her present stood before her, and the only similarity between them was the brand of beer they were drinking.
Jackson removed one hand from the pocket of his grey hoodie to offer Matthew an awkward handshake.
“No Maggie?” April probed.
“We broke up.” Jackson rubbed the back of his shaved head. “A while ago.”
“Oh, sorry.” April scrunched her nose and inhaled sharply.
“Yeah. I was seeing someone, actually – a paramedic – but we, uh…” He glanced at his feet.
“Ah.” April nodded.
“That sucks, buddy.” Matthew smacked Jackson on the arm. It was like this every time Matthew and Jackson met. Awkward. Stunted. A sterile attempt at civility.
Harriet toddled over, held up by Joe. He wiggled her arms to make it look as if she was waving. “Little Miss was chewing her fist, so I think it’s time for cake.” Jackson bent down as Joe handed her over. “I’ll go help your mother in the kitchen.” He smoothed his shirt. “At least I won’t have to call 911 in an emergency.”
“Good luck.” April quipped.
Jackson’s eyes popped, making Harriet giggle. He, April and Matthew burst into laughter. She was the glue that held their paper-thin relationship together.
A discordant rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ drifted from the kitchen as Joe and Karen emerged with a large pink ice cream cake. Jackson bounced Harriet and kissed her wispy hair. A single candle wilted, unlit, in the center. Still, they mimed blowing it out. Matthew stuffed the candle in his pocket before the cake was set down on the patio table. April held Harriet to her hip and pulled up a chair.
“Everybody grab a plate!” She yelled, and the crowd scattered. They returned to the sight of Harriet happily digging her fist into the cake.
When the time came to open Harriet’s gifts, everyone gathered in the living room to watch her grab and teethe on the corners of the boxes. The first gift was from Matthew’s mother, Patricia, who Harriet had dubbed Tee-Tee. Her relationship with April was complicated, but not complicated enough to stop her from spending time with her second granddaughter. Harriet already owned a sensory play set, but still they appreciated the gesture, thanking her with kind eyes.
“Say thank you, Tee-Tee.” April encouraged Harriet, pointing to Patricia.
Harriet’s lips grappled with the word for a moment. Then, an outburst of “Tee-Tee!”
Patricia smiled, walking over to the couch to sweep her palm across Harriet’s hair and press a kiss to the crown of her head.
The next gift came from Jackson’s mother, Catherine, and step-father Richard. A beautifully engraved silver piggy bank with a dollar tucked into the slot.
“It’s never too early to start saving. Especially if she’s going to get into Harvard.” She quirked a perfectly curved eyebrow and smiled.
“Catherine!” Richard playfully chided.
“Thank you.” April said again, beginning to feel the words lose their meaning.
Joe and Karen had bought an assortment of farm-related toys and books, which made April roll her eyes. Harriet immediately shoved the rubbery head of a cow into her mouth.
Matthew and April’s gift, a sit-to-stand walker, was yet another addition to Harriet’s collection of pink items. When they had decorated the nursery, Matthew’s only comment was that it looked as though someone had poured Pepto-Bismol over everything. April countered this with the argument that it would encourage Harriet to unapologetically embrace her femininity. Besides, she was sharing the room with Matthew’s daughter Ruby. As usual, he was out-voted by estrogen. So, he buckled under the weight of his love for his three favorite girls.
April heard the subtle hitch of Matthew’s breath beside her. He was smiling, but it was a tight-jawed, forced smile. She knew exactly what – or rather, who - was running through his mind. Karin. Sometimes at night, when April tucked Harriet and Ruby’s blankets into their cribs, she would stare at Ruby, examining every detail of her face. Every faint line on her palms. She felt guilty. Sitting here, watching her own daughter celebrate the milestone that Karin never would. A lump formed in her throat. She reached for Matthew’s hand, but he pulled away. He harrumphed, shifted against the cushions and promptly excused himself. He returned ten minutes later with a glass of water and puffy eyes.
“If you need to take a minute, it’s okay.”
“No, I’m good.”
“Matthew,” April rubbed his arm “take a couple minutes. Get some air. Please?”
He chugged the last of the water and wordlessly agreed, slipping out into the garden. He watched Jackson present April with a hefty 3-in-1 stroller – the one she’d been lusting after for a month. He watched her fumble with its clips to detach the balance bike and plop Harriet onto the seat. He watched another man be the father he would never be. A deep ache spread through him and he leaned against the cool fence, glancing up at the nursery window. He took a long moment to forgive himself for the act of betrayal he was about to commit, then he headed back inside, softly thudding up the stairs. He sat with Ruby for, well, he didn’t know how long, but it was long enough for him to catch a glimpse of Karin. For him to apologize to her with a prayer. Long enough for him to feel guilty for disappearing.
Downstairs, Jackson grabbed another beer from the refrigerator. He turned to April, who was mixing a rum and coke for her mother, and pulled an envelope from his pocket.
“April?” He tapped her on the shoulder. “I know I’ve already given Harriet a gift, but this is something extra. Just a small thing, I promise. I didn’t wanna make a big deal out of it back there.”
“Why?” April ripped the envelope open and her lips parted in confusion. Inside was a receipt for a monthly toy box subscription. “Jackson, what is this?”
“I’m not around all the time. I don’t get to take her to playgroup every week or build blocks with her or read The Velveteen Rabbit. This is my way of being there. I don’t wanna be that guy. The father who slips in and out of his child’s life. I can’t do that to her.”
“Jackson,” April gazed up at him, sharing the sadness in his eyes “you are not your father. If you wanna see her more often, we can work something out.”
Matthew entered the kitchen, dropped his glass in the sink and glared at the two of them. “Sorry for interrupting.” He slunk away.
“Can we?” Jackson quipped.
April rubbed her face and placed the envelope on the kitchen island. “I should get back out there before Dad has another beer and starts doing impressions of farm animals.”
Later, when the house was empty and Harriet had been put to bed messy-mouthed and content, April and Matthew were left to pick up the discarded pieces of wrapping paper and conversation. They sat the dining table, each waiting for the other to speak first. Matthew rolled a beer bottle between his palms as he tried to organize his thoughts. April traced the patterns in the woodgrain, eyes darting up to meet Matthew’s.
“Wanna talk about it?” She prompted, met only with silence. She leaned forward, palm pressed against her cheek. “I know it’s hard, but it would be nice if you let me in every once in a while.”
He replied with a non-committal grunt.
“Say something. Anything. Please, Matthew.” After a beat, she pushed back from the table and walked away. Then, just as she reached the kitchen archway –
“My wife died. What am I supposed to say?”
April’s next breath drained from her mouth. “I’m your wife, Matthew. You’re blinded by grief, not blind.”
Matthew’s head was in his hands, his voice muffled. “I lost Karin, and you saved me, April. You saved me. You know that.”
“Well, it sure doesn’t feel like it.” She snapped.
Every time they fought, April would end up sleeping in a half-empty queen size bed. She woke with a jolt when she felt a cold arm drape across her stomach. They didn’t apologize. They were long past that. They locked eyes and April grazed his cheek with the back of her hand.
“We’ll get through this together. We know each other’s pain, remember?”
“I know.” He pulled her into his chest and hummed against her lips.
That night, in spite of everything, they slept peacefully in each other’s arms.
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YEAR TWO:
Shannon Baxter was the perfect suburban housewife. She had a loving husband, a well-mannered child and a meticulously manicured lawn framing their Philadelphia home. She attended church fundraisers and organized the weekly carpool with military precision. The eldest child of Don and Patricia Taylor, Shannon took the role of caregiver very seriously when her younger brother Matthew was born. She shadowed Patricia and doted on him. When Don passed away unexpectedly, she tried her best to lift her mother’s mood with paintings, songs, dance routines and poorly-executed attempts to get Matthew to eat his least favorite vegetables. At just five years old, she learned to put the needs of others above hers. When she was tormented by bullies, when she got a low grade on a test, she tried her hardest to find a way to cope by herself. Because none of that mattered when her mother was slumped over the kitchen table in fits of tears or when Matthew was rushed to the ER with a hernia.
The wall she had built with her selflessness crumbled as she sat fidgeting with the ties of a hospital gown. She was forty-three, chronically ill and struggling to accept that for the first time in her life, she would be the one being taken care of.
Her husband Scott rushed from the office to pick up their son, Thomas. He avoided his son’s persistent questions on the ride to the hospital. All he could say was –
“She’ll be fine, buddy.”
Scott was torn between comforting his son with a confident lie or frightening him with the truth. So, as cautious parents do, he chose to lie. He couldn’t, however, let Shannon or himself lie to anyone else.
Once Thomas had settled on his mother’s bed, Scott fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, offering it to Shannon.
“Either you tell them, or I will.”
Shannon sunk back into the stiff pillow beneath her. “I can’t. I can’t put this on Mom, she’s retired. She needs time for herself.”
Scott waved the phone a little more vigorously, watching the cogs turn in his wife’s head like she was figuring out how to diffuse a bomb. She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply and took the phone from Scott’s hands with a weak stretch.
“Matty?” She exhaled slowly as she decided what to tell him. “I just wanted to call and see how you were doing. Maybe you, April and the kids could come down to Philly sometime soon?” She knew right away that Matthew would see through the small-talk. The brittle smile in her voice cracked. “Listen, something’s happened. We-“ she cleared her throat “-I need your help.”
“Already on my way, Shan.”
One of the things April loved most about Matthew was his dedication to his family. When she overheard fragments of his conversation with Shannon late on a Monday night, she didn’t pry. She didn’t have to. He already felt her presence in the room.
“Shannon’s sick.”
April untied the belt of her flannel robe and tossed it over the closet door. “Is it bad?”
“I don’t know.”
They performed their nightly ritual of fluffing and rearranging the assortment of throw pillows on the bed, Matthew’s hand chopping a little more enthusiastically than usual. Instead of settling under the comforter, Matthew flung the closet door open and pulled out his suitcase and a random assortment of clothes.
“So you’re going to Philly.” April tried – and failed - not to sound pissed.
“Yeah.” He brushed her off, stumbling into a pair of jeans.
“What about the hospital? Ruby? The church group? Matthew, you can’t just-“ April flinched as Matthew retracted a hand from his suitcase to chop at a cushion again.
“Damn it, April! Jesus, fuck.” he clasped his hands together behind his head, pacing the floor. “We’re not gonna be able to pray this away, okay? Just like I couldn’t pray away Karin’s death, and you couldn’t pray away Samuel’s. I’m going to Philly. I’ll call you when I get there.” He closed the suitcase with an aggressively swift zip and left April trembling in the bedroom.
After a long silence, she watched from the window as his car pulled out of the driveway. Even in their darkest moments, he had never insulted their faith. If his trust in God was shaken, was his faith in their relationship shaken too? She crept into the nursery, knelt between the two cribs and prayed. The shaking subsided. Her breathing slowed. Ruby cried.
“Me too, kiddo.”
April stood and scooped Ruby up, rocking her. She carried her downstairs to prep her bottle, and as she fed her, April hoped that she would be enough for her.
At first, it was easy to explain Matthew’s absence. He was on call. He was helping out at Mercy West. He was at a First Aid refresher seminar out of town. She brought Harriet and Ruby to church alone week after week, and the more she lied, the less people asked questions. But every time she lied, she prayed. She hoped for something good. For there to be a way to heal the part of her heart that Matthew had so carelessly broken.
On the fifth Sunday, April stopped lying.
There, on the front pew, was Patricia. Why wasn’t she in Philadelphia? She mustered a smile when Patricia caught her eye. At the end of the sermon, she walked over, immediately cooing over her granddaughters.
“How are my favorite girls?” She grinned. April knew she wasn’t part of the club.
“I managed to get them both to sleep last night. I don’t know how I did it.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a brilliant mother.”
Why was she being so nice? Not just civil, but actually nice?
“I try my best.” April tilted her head curiously. “I thought you were in Philadelphia.”
Patricia stiffened. “I’m going to visit. But I wanted to be here for Ruby. At least for a little while.”
Did she actually want to help April? What was really going on?
“Did Matthew ask you to stay?”
“No.” Patricia unclasped her hands. “I know your parents went back to Moline after Harriet’s birthday party, and I…” she cleared her throat “I didn’t want you to be doing this alone.”
“Thank you,” she stammered “I don’t know what to say.”
“I think the girls could use a trip to the park. You too. You look tired, April.”
“Actually, I kinda am.” She didn’t really want to admit it, but Patricia’s apparently unwavering kindness could be fleeting, so she didn’t want to pass up the chance to experience it.
“Come on,” Patricia linked arms with April “how about some ice cream for the girls and coffee for us?”
“Sounds good.” April nodded.
The tension between them seemed thinner. It felt almost normal sitting side by side on a park bench. They were just another mother and daughter-in-law on an afternoon stroll. They talked about Harriet and Ruby’s outfits. The weather. Work (and how much April sometimes missed it). Then Patricia asked the question April didn’t want to have to answer.
“How are things between you and Matthew?”
“Honestly? Difficult.” April’s foot stilled, bringing Harriet’s stroller to a halt. “After Harriet’s birthday he was…so closed off. I know he’s still grieving, but I don’t feel like I’m his wife right now.”
Patricia’s hand covered hers. “He loves you very much.”
“I know. But sometimes I think he doesn’t love me enough.” April gulped. “Because I’m not Karin.”
“How long are you going to torture yourself, April? He loves you. You have a home together. He’s wonderful with the children…” Patricia trailed off.
“What if it’s not enough?” April’s eyes stung as tears began to form.
“Do you really think Don and I didn’t fight? Every couple has their challenges, April. Grief is an obstacle, not a wall. Whether you overcome it is something you’ll find out together.”
“I keep trying to get him to open up, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing it. What if you talked to him? Would that help?”
Patricia sighed. “I suppose it’s worth a shot. I’ll see if I can talk some sense into him when I go to Philadelphia.”
“Thank you, Trish.” She hadn’t called her Trish since the wedding. And Patricia hadn’t smiled so easily hearing it. Whatever had changed between them, the two women welcomed it with open arms and cautiously open hearts.
He returned after two long months.
She heard the thud of his bag on the floor, felt the weight of his tired footsteps in the hall, but she didn’t move. She stayed slumped on a stool at the kitchen island, swilling wine around her glass, watching as a light froth formed, tiny red bubbles dissolving with each flick of her wrist.
“Goodnight, Hare-Hare.”
April’s lips pursed. She shook her head and took a long swig. No matter how hard she tried, Matthew wouldn’t stop saying it. Hearing it didn’t annoy her – she was glad that Matthew had bonded with Harriet so quickly – but it frustrated her. Like the muffled mumbles of a language she only half-understood, April and Matthew’s relationship had been reduced to a series of untranslatable misunderstandings. April had given up her career to raise Harriet and lived vicariously through Matthew. Even though he’d never asked, she’d given up everything for him. And she had begun to wonder if it had all been worth it.
When he entered the kitchen, April didn’t shy from his touch, but she didn’t respond either. There was no relieved press of her shoulders into his chest, no soft hum as his lips ghosted across her hair.
“Is she asleep?”
“Drifted right off before I could even start Goodnight, Moon.” Matthew crossed the room, opening the refrigerator to grab a beer. The bottle cap skimmed across the marble counter-top. He took a swig, smacked his lips and leaned against the island. “Pretty soon she’s gonna be reading it all by herself.”
“Oh God,” April groaned, dipping her head and raking a hand through her hair “I don’t wanna think about that. She’s growing up so fast.” Sip. “She doesn’t even watch cartoons any more. She always wants to watch the Discovery channel.” Sip.
“She’s a smart girl. She gets that from her mother.” Matthew wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek.
The fresh tang of his beer-soaked lips made her acutely aware of the sharpness of her wine. Aware of how quickly things were changing. When they first met, they were both teetotal. Nights filled with the screams of trauma patients and a teething baby changed that. She had lied about her virginity and hidden Harriet from him until the truth seemed less exhausting. It occurred to her then that she had never actually stopped lying to him. Maybe that was why she was so damn tired now. Why she felt so numb.
“What’s wrong with Hattie?” April’s fingers traced the rim of her wine glass. There was a hint of harshness in her voice that caught Matthew off-guard.
“What?”
“Harriet. You always call her Hare-Hare.” She turned to him, almost spitting the words.
“Why is this a problem now? What’s going on, April?”
“I don’t know,” she stood and slapped a hand on her thigh “what is going on, Matthew?”
“Can we not do this right now? I promised Shannon I’d call her.”
“Shit, I’m sorry – how is she?”
“Coping, I think. Scott’s gonna keep me updated.”
“That’s good.”
The silence between them was awkward now. This time they couldn’t fill it with sex. They slept in the same bed, but never touched. They ate breakfast separately. They knew it was over.
A week later, Patricia came to collect Matthew and Ruby.
That night, April stopped praying.
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YEAR THREE:
“Fingers crossed for new horizons…”
The words crashed through April’s mind like an oncoming tide. Jackson Avery was the last person she expected to see, especially in the middle of a storm. They had lit candles, shared drinks together, talked so easily for so long that it felt as if the trail of destruction that had been left over the past five years had finally cleared.
She could still feel the brush of his fingertips. The pressure of his body holding hers. The salty musk of his cologne lingered on her shirt. She padded over to the couch to watch Harriet as she lay sleeping, the animal blanket Jackson had bought her draped gently over her tiny body. She was three-and-a-half now. And everything was about to change.
Jackson was moving to Boston to run the Fox Foundation and continue his family’s legacy. If he was going to do it, he needed his entire family with him. He didn’t beg. He didn’t plead. He did what he was best at – he offered April the world, and for the second time, she said yes.
The hardest part about leaving wasn’t uprooting their whole lives. It was leaving Grey-Sloan Memorial. Standing in front of the hospital entrance, the building looked more imposing now than it had on their first day as interns. It held so much of their lives. They remembered their days at Mercy West, the orange scrubs, the stolen glances in the OR. How no matter what happened, something always led them back to Grey-Sloan.
“This is where you were born.” April hoisted Harriet from the stroller.
“Take one last look, kiddo.” Jackson chucked Harriet under the chin. “You okay?” He brushed a hand across the small of April’s back.
“Yeah.” April replied softly.
“Yeah.” Harriet repeated, and they both chuckled.
“Time to go.” She placed Harriet back in the stroller as Jackson reached into his pocket for his car keys.
Reliving the past can be a dangerous thing. But sometimes history is worth re-writing.
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musette22 · 3 years
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Hey lovely! Just letting y'all know I'm FINALLY on AO3! Username is LaurenWritesFics, excited to get started!!! x
Eeeeeekk Lauren, that’s so exciting!!! 🤗🤗 I’m so glad you took that step, I will definitely be keeping an eye on it! Happy writing and posting, my darling!! 💖  
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katiew1973 · 3 years
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Absolutely will add you to my taglist! I have a separate writing blog called laurenwritesfics, I reblog everything onto there too 😁
OK. Will go check it out x
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