Heartbreak Warfare

“What happened, Olive?”

The brunette curled her knees up onto the wooden chair. The one bedroom apartment was silent apart from the kettle screaming for her to get up, and Julia’s question.

It was the same question she kept asking Olivia for two weeks. The same one her father kept badgering her about for fourteen days.

She had been pretty adequate at dodging it, but today was a particularly bad day. She couldn’t sleep. And once she finally shut her eyes, she was in the bathroom, unloading the contents of her stomach. She thought her stomach bug had been over and done with once she was back in New York.

Unfortunately that wasn’t that case. Almost every day Olivia woke up with a wall of nausea and the urge to destroy someone’s happiness.

That last thing Olivia wanted to do after waking up was talk about what happened. She would have rather undergone chemo with her father than talk about Harry Styles.

“Nothing,” Olivia slid off the high chair, padding her way across the floor and silencing the kettle. “Do you want some tea?”

Julia’s heels echoed against the hardwood floor. She set her Coach handbag on the table, only having eyes for Olivia. The metal chain fell into a puddle with a prolonged clink.

“You came home two weeks ago, completely broken. One Direction has split up. You’ve been sick ever since you got back. Olive, I want some answers.” It hadn’t occurred to Olivia that Julia was worried sick for her, that this whole ordeal wasn’t just taking a toll on the young woman.

“I’m—” Even if Olivia wanted to talk about London, her constricting throat was revoking that privilege.

“They’re blaming him.” Julia said quietly.

Silently, Olivia thought he deserved it. But there was that darn self-deprecating part of her that blamed herself. They didn’t deserve to have their dreams fall apart. Olivia’s brain kept screaming it was all on her.

Olivia poured the tea, leaning her back into the nook of the counter.

“I want to get you tested.” Julia swallowed tightly.

Olivia snapped her focus to Julia. “Why? Harry didn’t have an STD.” And just like that, the tea mug was slammed on the counter, the steaming liquid spilt over the tiles, and Olivia’s face in the sink.

Julia was there before Olivia could throw anything up, not that there was any food in her stomach. She gently pulled her dark locks away from the mess, rubbing her back in a motherly fashion.

“That’s not what I was talking about, dear,” Julia whispered so quietly that Olivia wanted to pretend she didn’t hear it.

When Olivia opened her mouth again, a sob fell out.

Julia pressed the shaking girl against her chest. Olivia was shaking her head, murmuring that it could never be true.

For once, Julia was at loss for words for the young girl. Olivia needed the one thing Julia could never be: her mother.



Olivia waited in the bathroom. Her face was blotchy and red, like someone had thrown cheap blush all over it and hadn’t bothered to mold it correctly. Her bony knees were shoved into her chest by her bloodless, clenched fingers. After forcing down her tea, she didn’t know what else to do but wait for Julia to return.

Her fingernails were completely destroyed. Her hair was going to start coming out in clumps if she kept grabbing at it. She didn’t her best to keep her hands locked around her legs, but she was so anxious that it was near impossible.

Olivia heard the door to her apartment slide open. Her gaze snapped to the open bathroom door as she waited impatiently for Julia. The woman in question was heard wrestling with a plastic bag before coming into view, holding out a box with a solemn expression.

No words were passed as Olivia took it. She shut the door, opening the cardboard side with shaky hands.

Olivia pulled out a test and took a deep breath.



“How did you know?” Olivia croaked. She had resumed her position on the bathroom floor, knees to chest. Julia had taken up the doorway. Her cell phone timer was running on the counter as they waited.

“I would call it a mother’s intuition, but I fear that may not be the best way to put it.” Julia answered softly. Olivia gazed up at her with large, watery eyes, breaking Julia’s heart. She knew all Olivia was thinking was how was she going to tell her father—her sick, cancer-stricken father. The man who had given her the job, who had encouraged the relationship, who had practically forced her to run away to England with him.

Of course Julia knew those thoughts were far from Olivia’s mind. She never blamed anyone but herself for her mistakes. Olivia had a terrible habit of it, something they could never beat out of her when she was young and her mother was still alive.

No, Olivia would be thinking of how astronomically she had failed her parents, how she had let her proud, loving father down in his dire time of need. Julia knew the young girl too well, maybe even better than Olivia knew herself.

“I’m proud of you, Olivia.” Julia broke the deafening silence. “You’ve grown into a respectable, loving woman, and I am so proud of you. I know she would be to.”

Olivia snorted lightly. Her dead eyes stared ahead at the drab bathroom wall. “I think respectable and proud shouldn’t be in the same sentence after you’ve just taken a pregnancy test at any time in ones teens. And I think the last thing my mother would be if she could see me now is proud.” She quickly wiped away the salty tears careening down her cheeks.

A sinking sensation passed through Julia as the timer hit its mark. She wanted more than to stop this from happening, to make whatever was on the test a negative line. But, deep down, Julia knew it was impossible. The next few months were going to be difficult for Olivia, but she knew if anyone could do this, it was her.

“Regardless,” Julia cleared her throat, “I’m proud of you, and there isn’t a damn thing in this world you can do next to killing a man that would take this feeling away from me.” She sniffed deeply. “Time’s up, Olive.”

Olivia rose heavily, snatching the test without looking. She turned it between her trembling fingers a few times, gaining the courage she needed.

One second.

One second was all her brain needed to register the result of the test. One second was all the time it would take to change her life indefinitely.

Julia squeezed Olivia’s knee comfortingly. She just wanted Olivia to know she wasn’t alone, but Olivia refused to look at her.

Olivia blew a terrified breath through her lips before glancing down at the test.

One one thousand.

Positive.



“Are you positive?”

Olivia released her head, heaving an enormously exaggerated sigh. “Dean, I will punch you in the head if you ask me one more time. The cake’s been chosen. The flowers are ordered. The venue is set. I just have to get alterations on my dress and we’re as good as married.”

Dean frowned, playing with the stray coin that sat atop the island. “Yes, but are you—”

“Positive. I’m completely and undeniably positive. I’m so positive I’ll be dead within the hour.” Olivia growled, tossing a dirty dish rack at his head. He dodged it easily enough.

“I just want to be sure!” He chuckled, “It’s my job as best man to be sure.”

“No, it’s the maid-of-honor’s job. “ Olivia paused, “Speaking of maid-of-honors, where is Grace?”

Dean shrugged, “Probably emotionally and intellectually damaging your child.”

“Is she letting him watch that awful cartoon with the fish?” Olivia huffed, storming off into the living room as the doorbell rung. “Would you get that, it’s probably Lou.”

Unconsciously, Dean brushed back his honey-colored locks. His heart beat was rising fast and his cheeks lit up like Christmas lights. He loved that Louis had this effect on him. He’d been out for over ten years and never once felt like this about a man before.

Dean scurried to the door, wrenching it open. Louis burst into a smile once Dean’s face came into view.

“Hey, love,” Louis said. They greeted each other with a kiss. Dean was painfully aware of the box in his jacket.

Louis flitted deeper into the apartment. “Where’s the lovely bride-to-be?” He questioned Dean. “I have news.”

“Don’t ask her about the wedding arrangements, babe,” Dean pressed his lips against the smaller man’s temple. “She’s a bit touchy.”

“I am not touchy, Dean Masters.” Olivia slunk back into the kitchen. “Your sister had that god awful show on again. Did she even watch Disney Channel as a kid? This crap is just embarrassing comparatively.” She shook her head, shutting the dishwasher and turning it on. A faint whirring filled the air before Olivia turned her attention to their newest guest. “My wedding is going completely and utterly according to schedule, Louis. Tell your needy boyfriend—”

“Honey, no more badgering,” Louis cut her off, “If Liv needs help, she’ll ask. I promise.” Dean rolled his eyes, leaning against the counter. Louis averted his attention back to Olivia. “Now may I proceed with what I came here to say?”

Olivia took a deep breath, “Proceed.”

“I think the white roses are classier.” Louis blurted.

“Oh, God,” Olivia moaned, swiftly taking off into the living room.

“Olivia,” Louis’ laugh tinkled, catching Dean’s breath in his throat. They were alone in the kitchen now. He could do it. Dean could do it right now and make Louis’ his forever. Just get down on one knee and open the box. It would be so incredibly easy.

But, Dean thought about it too long and Louis was chasing Olivia down about the flowers.

It’s better this way, he thought. Louis deserved something grand and spectacular; not something half-assed in Olivia and Wren’s kitchen.

He could hearing Olivia and Louis bickering a room away.

A small smile fell on his face as Louis threw his hands wildly in the air. Dean watched with his hand shoved in his pocket, clutching the small black box. Louis half-glanced in way, something he did on occasion as if to make sure Dean was still there, that this was real. The Brit did a double take when he noticed Dean only had eyes for him.

“What are you looking at, Masters?” Louis joked.

My future husband.

“You’re just too cute when you fight.” Dean answered instead, making his way to the next room. “How was the dinner?”

Louis shrugged, plopping down on the couch next to an annoyed blonde bombshell. “Fine,”

“Ya?” Dean mocked lightly, “Want to vague that up for us, hun?”

Louis sent him a glare before leaning into the blonde, “Don’t you agree that the white—”

“Enough with the flower talk!” Olivia exclaimed. “Christ, Grace, will you talk to them? Consider it your first official duty as my maid-of-honor.”

Grace perked up immediately. “Finally!” She tossed her hands up, “I’ve been your maid of honor since—what—October of last year? I’m going to maid of honor the hell out of—”

“Grace,” Olivia said sternly, nodding to the out-cold four year old on the other couch.

“He’s fast asleep,” Grace waved her off.

“I can’t believe I let you watch my son.” Olivia mumbled to herself.

“I resent that.” Grace said, “I’m a wonderful babysitter. Just ask Dean!”

Dean took that moment to whistle loudly and find Louis’ hair quite interesting.

Louis fought the larger man off quickly, sending him a flirtatious smirk. Gently, Olivia picked Charlie up, careful not to wake him up.

But, try as she might, he was the lightest sleeper she’d ever known.

“Momma,” He mumbled sleepily. “Where’s daddy?” Olivia adjusted him, heading down the hall to his room. The others shifted in their seats.

“He’s at work, babe,” Olivia answered. They entered the blue room with the racecar bed and spaceman sheets.

Charlie mumbled something incoherent. “He’ll come say goodnight when he gets back, bud.” She brushed his dark locks from his forehead, leaning down to plant a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Olivia made to stand up, but his little panicked voice brought her back. “No, nose kissies!”

Olivia smiled ear to ear. She nestled her nose against his tiny one as he wrapped his small arms around her. When he released her, Olivia whispered, “Goodnight,” and slipped out the door, making sure to leave it open just enough for a crack of light to filter through.

Olivia padded her way back to her friends. They were sitting quietly on the couch, as if waiting for her return.

“Have you all decided the white roses are the way to go? Or can the bride have the flowers she wants?” She was only sort of joking.

“I’ll be honest, Liv,” Grace said quietly, “I’m worried about how the next few weeks are gonna play out. Especially the wedding.”

“He’s invited, isn’t he?” Dean questioned. Louis nodded, an angry expression covering his pretty face.

“He wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Louis grumbled.

“What’s the supposed to mean?” Olivia questioned.

“Oh, come on, Olivia, didn’t you see the way he was eye-fucking you today?” Louis demanded. “I had to kick him more than once to bring him back to earth. He thinks he’s going to win you back.”

Olivia didn’t bother trying to stop the laughter that fell from her mouth. “Lou, what are you so worried about? Harry trying to get me to fall in love with him again, or the thought of me actually falling for it? Because neither will ever happen. Ever.” She held out her pinky.

Louis raised a brow, “Really? A pinky promise?” He shook his head but latched his finger onto hers. “What are we, ten?”

Olivia grinned, “When’s Wren coming home? Charlie hates when he doesn’t get his nose kissies.” She glanced down the hallway.

“So fucking cute I can’t even stand it.” Grace groaned, throwing her head back. “Someone just put a baby in me.”

“Sorry, sis,” Dean said, “No one here with a penis rolls that way.”

Louis smirked, “I left dinner early, but he said within the hour.”

Olivia nodded, snatching the remote and channeling surfing until it fell upon a Law and Order rerun. She left it on.

“I don’t want to be the debby downer,” The serious atmosphere was back. “But, do we have a plan for when Harry finds out?” Dean inquired as noninvasive as he could.

Olivia stared at the television screen. Some poor broad had been raped and left like yesterday’s trash on the street.

“I don’t care if he finds out.” Olivia replied honestly.

“That’s one approach.” Grace muttered sardonically.

“I’m serious.” Olivia went on, staring at her friends this time, “If he does. Fine, great. He’ll learn to deal with the fact that he fucked up five years ago because Harry is not Charlie’s father. Wren was there when my father—” Olivia paused for a moment before going on. “Wren was there when Charlie was born. He was there when he said his first words, when he crawled and then walked. He was there on Charlie’s first day of preschool, all the birthdays. Wren’s last name is on his birth certificate, the one Charlie calls ‘daddy’ when he has a nightmare or doesn’t feel well.” Olivia’s hard chocolate eyes made it impossible to disagree. “Wren is Charlie’s father. So, if Harry finds out, then great. But, Harry is nothing more than a sperm donor. He’s no father. He doesn’t deserve Charlie.”

The front door squeaked. Wren came through looking cold and worn. Olivia stood up, a smile spreading across her face, fingering the diamond on her left hand. Louis, Dean, and Grace watched the violent change in mood, knowing which man truly caused the happy side of her.

“Someone’s waiting for their nose kisses.” Olivia informed him.

Whatever mood Wren might have been in after spending hours with Harry evaporated into bliss at the sight of Olivia talking about Charlie.

“Yes, ma’am,” He hurried through the living room, kissing Olivia briefly before heading down the hall, disappearing into Charlie’s room.

Olivia watched him go with a happy sort of ache in her chest. “That’s a father.” She nodded resolutely.

Louis, Dean, and Grace wouldn’t have disagreed for the world.