Bailey's Cheesecake and Italian Leather

Same characters as in "A Few Steps Ahead."

“Happy anniversary, Princess Olivia,” Fionnlagh said.

It had been the first time in a week we were speaking or seeing each other. I was on the piano when he walked in, going through Freddie Mercury’s portion of Bohemian Rhapsody, my favorite song. I kept playing, refusing the interruption to look at him. We were both stubborn enough to continue to hold a grudge. Him showing up today was only a small olive branch, but this fight was far from over.

One side of my mouth curled up. I could match the energy. “Happy anniversary, Fionnlagh.”

I kept the pace of the song playing through the Galileo chorus.

“Bo Rhap,” he said over the playing melody.

I nodded once and closed my eyes, feeling the music. He waited for me to finish. When I opened my eyes, there was a strange look on his face. Then, he handed me a box.

“What’s this?” I asked, confused.

He looked at me with amusement. “Well, usually in celebrations like this, people give gifts.”

I stood up from the bench, flashing a knowing glance. “One second, please.”

I pulled out a gift bag from the coat closet and handed it to him. He took the bag, lifting it like a weight and giving a small nod.  

“Gifts first or dinner?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Up to you, Princess.”

“Dinner then,” I said and started walking towards the dining room. 

He brought the gifts with him as he followed me.

“Walk faster, Detective Fionnlagh. You’ll fall behind if you don’t keep up my pace,” I murmured, teasing him with one of our first conversations before all of this between us started.

I heard him snort faintly, but neither of us dignified a further response.

The dining room table was already set up with food and candles. My housekeeper, Emilia, helped me cook earlier, and I gave her the rest of the night off. The less people that knew about my relationship with Fionnlagh the better, given our respective jobs. I explained all the stuff setup on the table, while lighting the candles with the lighter.

“We made pasta and some salad; I hope that’s okay.” I lifted the lids from the serving platters.

He nodded. “Of course.”

“Dessert is Bailey’s cheesecake.”

He allowed himself a snicker. “Because I’m Irish?”

“Because I like Bailey’s.” I smiled. “Help yourself.”

We quietly served food. The pretext of everything was as fake as the fire in the fireplace in the living room.

“Very delicious,” he complimented, taking a bite. His eyes refused to meet mine and the tone of his voice and was even, likely the only tone he would permit himself.

As I began to chew, I decided to bite the bullet. “How was your day?”

“Had to work,” he said nonchalantly.

Time to pull the key out of the grenade.

“Me too,” I replied with my lips curled up. I took a sip of my wine as he lifted his gaze to glare at me.

“You’re so fucking irresponsible,” he said, shaking his head.

“I’m certain I have no idea what you mean.”

“Of course not. Princess Olivia does no wrong!” He exhaled and brought his hands to his face.

“The less you know, the better it is, no?”

“Olivia, you don’t get it. This is my life. My career.” He stood up suddenly.

“And we both decided to blur those lines. My life. My career. Your life. Your career. All to become our lives.” I took another sip. “You can’t possibly be surprised that things have gone the way they have.”

He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “I need air.” 

He began to walk away in a haste that I hadn’t seen on him. He was always so cool and calculated.

“Do you want to call it at a year then, Alastair?” I asked.

The click of his boots stopped at the door frame. Time stood still for a moment. I didn’t want this to end, but I also wasn’t going to force him to stick around with me if he was unwilling.

I heard him sigh. “Olivia, I don’t know how to do this. On the same day I wake up next to you, I’m shooting at you before midnight.”

There was frustration in his voice.

I stood up and turned to look at him.

“We both knew going in this wouldn’t be easy. But if we are going to keep this going, we can’t let things like work get between us.” I took a step towards him. “We can’t stop talking. You know who I am. I know who you are. There are things we can’t help, not without being short of destroying each other. That’s our truth. And we have to deal with it until we can’t anymore. So have you reached that point?”

He crossed the room back towards me. He tilted my head up and looked at me. Then, he lowered his lips to mine and kissed me.

When that was done, he pressed his lips against my forehead.

“You scare me,” he whispered.

I smiled. “I scare a lot of people.”

“I know this is hard but…would you please stop or at the least try to decrease the amount of time I end up shooting in your general direction?”

I laughed. “I can try.”

He smiled. “Thank you. You look beautiful by the way.”

“Thank you.” I took his hand and we went back to the table.

We continued to eat but this time, the conversation was livelier. The tension that you could cut with a knife was now consumed by the flames. I loved to hear about his family, so that was our current conversation. He usually talked about his childhood, being the oldest of three, two boys and a girl. His parents both worked, so I often got to hear about the mischief between the siblings.

“In hindsight, we may have been too much to handle,” he admitted.

I smiled. “Must’ve been nice growing up with a family.”

He took my hand. “I was never alone.” He gave me a small smile.

I squeezed his hand. “It wasn’t so bad on my end. I mean, yeah. It sucks. I grew up without my mom. Most of the time, it was just me and dad. But sometimes, my nana would bring her kids so I got to play with them every once in a while. Which was fun. Good kids. Boy and girl. Good people. Last I heard, both of them were going to NYU.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Impressive.”

“Dad left them each with trust funds.” I pursed my lips, waiting for the change in his expression. It didn’t.

“What about your cousins and uncles and aunts?”

“Umm…we don’t really talk much. The family respected my father, but he was no one’s favorite. So…the feeling got passed down.”

“What would they say if they knew you were dating me?”

I shrugged. “Maybe that I’m playing with fire.”

“They aren’t wrong.”

“And yours?”

He smiled. “I think my mom would like you the most.”

And for some reason, warmth filled my chest.

“Wanna do gifts and dessert in front of the fireplace?” I asked. 

He grinned. “Let’s do it.” 

He picked up the gifts. I picked up the cheesecake. We scampered to the living room, setting everything down on the coffee table. We sat on the couch, close to each other.  

“You go first!” I said to him, taking the bag and putting it on his lap.

He opened his bag, pulling out his gift.

“Italian leather,” I told him when he revealed his jacket. I knew his favorite one had gotten damaged, so I did my best to give him a replica that would work for him.

He tried it on and smiled. “Wow. Thank you. I really needed it!”

I smiled. He reached over and sat the box on my lap.

I pulled on the ribbon and took off the lid. In it, I found a dusty rose scarf, like the one I gave the little girl over a year ago on my birthday when I found her and her mother, Suzanne, in the cold. It was one of my favorite articles of clothing, but she was so young and she needed it.

My mouth went open. “How did you…”

He pulled it out of the box and wrapped it around my neck.

Beneath it was a picture of me as a teenager with my father. I was wearing the scarf and smiling, eating greasy pizza we’d gotten by the slice. I remembered that day, that feeling, and tears filled my eyes.

“I found it in a box of files in the precinct. And I went to each store, looking for the exact color.”

I looked at him. “Thank you.” I touched the soft silk between my fingers.

He pulled it out of the box and wrapped it around my neck. When he got close to me, I pulled him in for a kiss, a kiss we would both turn into more.

“Happy anniversary, love.”