“Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read.”

In all honesty, Oliver knew he had been interested Alice from the moment he was told to sit down beside her at that dinner. Since he had seen the way she shied away from David, and all he wanted to do was stand between the two of them and keep him from coming near her ever again. Sure, it started out as infatuation, as most relationships in his life had done. But it lasted, that feeling. It lasted so long he couldn’t believe it wasn’t reciprocated. Couldn’t imagine a moment when it would ever cease to be real. Loving the idea of a person – like he had with Natalie – it wasn’t the same as actually loving the person for everything they were or weren’t. For what they could or could not do. And it felt a hell of a lot better.

But then she had gone, and Oliver had been left to his own thoughts far too long. He wasn’t himself anymore, and for all Oliver knew, he couldn’t be himself without her. That Oliver didn’t exist anymore. He was a simulacrum of a man. He was a copy without an original, unable to so much as function as he had before. His way of existing was different and worked to an extent, but not correctly. He had found the letter, if you’re curious, reader. Eric had been sniffing at the trashcan, and it really wasn’t that Oliver was odd enough to just check what was in his bin. But the moment he saw her handwriting pulling at the L’s in his name, he had folded it and refused to read it. She had been in his flat but hadn’t so much as waited for him. He didn’t want to see her rejection. Didn’t want to read the words when she asked him to stay away, or to not send Marie anything after he sent her a thank you card for taking care of him.

No, he probably shouldn’t have done it, considering. But wasn’t that the right thing to do when someone helped you? Thank them? So Oliver couldn’t resist. He had practically been forced by his own conscience. Even more so, given Alice. But her letter had never been opened again. Instead, it was stuck in one of the card slots in his wallet, waiting for him to decide that torturing himself was worth it. Or until he so desperately needed that closure, perhaps so he could move on.

But he didn’t want to do that, yet. He didn’t want to leave her behind while he wallowed. He needed the idea of her there in his pocket that week, as he went about and tried to rediscover his world. In fact, when the phone rang that morning, his thoughts jumped directly to the letter, wondering if she was still in touch with their werewolf friend. But it was his mother, requesting that he bring his dad lunch, given that he was busy training his new employees and likely would forget to actually pick himself up something.

So Oliver forced himself to actually dress halfway decently, then popped over to the lobby of his father’s building, greeting the man at the front desk with a little wave of the bag he had brought with him for Gregory. Receiving a smile in return for his efforts, Oliver was waved on and into the firm’s main office. He walked through, greeting a few of the employees that he had met before, and stepped into his father’s office. Separated from the rest of the main floor, Gregory was seated at his desk, flicking through papers. When he caught sight of his son, however, his hands froze and his eyebrows lifted, shock registering plainly across his features.

“Oliver-“

“Afternoon, dad,” he offered, dropping into one of the chairs and setting the bag atop his father’s desk.

“What are you so happy about, then?” Gregory asked slowly, hoping his son had either missed the blonde entirely, or had somehow come to terms with their issues.

Oliver hesitated, but finally let his shoulders collapse. “I’m not, really. I just… felt the need for pretenses. At least in public.”

Greg nodded, one side of his mouth lifting in a silent apology. Reaching for his lunch, he added, “You sticking around for a while? Or going back to finish up your work?”

“I should go,” Oliver nodded, pushing up off the chair so he could stuff his hands in his pockets. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Receiving a nod, Oliver turned and started back through the main floor of the law firm. As he passed by, Oliver found himself distracted by a batch of pale white flowers where they were settled in a vase. What really called his attention, though, was the blonde head of hair behind the desk that vase sat on. In fact, his feet stopped completely as he stared, then glanced back at his father’s office. Gregory had leaned to the side, and was staring right back, his eyes wide. The older man flicked his wand, though, sending the door back into its closed position, as though he had never seen a thing. Or, you know, done anything that had brought Alice in. After all, Oliver had been the one to suggest it. But keeping it quiet? That wouldn’t go over well at a family dinner.

Oliver blinked and shook his head, half expecting that when he looked back at the desk, it wouldn’t actually be her, but some other blonde that reminded him of her. It wouldn’t have been the first time since she left that he had convinced himself some other girl was Alice. But he swiveled around again, and she was still there. Oliver’s hand fell to his pocket, bizarrely tempted to pull out the note and finally read it. But he couldn’t very well do so now that he was watching her, expression pained.

The dark-haired man sitting at the next desk over looked back and forth between the two of them, looking befuddled, but kept quiet and returned to his work after a few moments. Oliver took a breath and swallowed, deciding that if he didn’t say something, he would hate himself all the more. “Ba- … Alice,” he breathed, correcting himself before she could actually catch it. Hopefully…

Her name. It lifted on the back of the faint warmth of the heaters implanted in the ceiling and brushed across the back of her neck like a kiss on the spot of skin her hair didn’t quite cover due to her being bent forward over one of the files, her pen rolling between her fingers, her other hand clasped around her cup, swilling the coffee idly from side to side. It startled her at first, tugging her almost forcibly from the atmosphere of what she was reading. She looked up, her eyes lifting over the top of her portioning wall. Her brows came down over her eyes that were alive and electric as her mind buzzed behind them. She couldn’t see anything, though. No individual was out of place or looking to her.

Sitting back and straightening, Alice set down her coffee and capped her pen with a quick flex of her fingers. She turned a little, pushing herself along on the balls of her feet. Her chair squeaked a little and she stopped half way to look down at it, as though giving it the attention it called out for would somehow soothe it, and then when she lifted herself up once more she turned right the way around. She stalled, however, in an almost unseemly fashion when she saw him. Ollie. Oliver. She swallowed down her heart which she could feel hammering to get out of her. He was here.

Something in her reasoned it wasn’t so unseemly that he was in the building. It did belong to his father. But she hadn’t been expecting it. Of course. She felt as though she’d just been dropped off of Everest, or perhaps stuck at the top. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t speak. She could barely look at him but she found herself oxymoronically fixed upon him as though her world, to use an ironic analogy, had stopped spinning entirely. It had. It had come to a stop. She’d derailed. Or perhaps she had already been derailed. Perhaps this was what it felt like when the train was coming back onto the tracks.

All of a sudden, Alice was up on her feet. Her hands left the plastic arms of her chair. She stood for a moment. Looked at him. Stared. He was real. She could discern it. He was no mirage. The Mirror of Erised wasn’t there staring back at her. He was there. Him. Real. Fleshy and warm and lovely and real. Oliver.

“Ollie.”

Alice bolted like a horse out of the stocks on Grand National day. She took a breath and planted her hands on his shoulders before throwing herself up and winding her legs around his middle. Her arms curled around his neck and Alice crashed her lips against his. Her fingers lifted up to cup around his cheeks and as she closed her eyes, she believed she was somewhere else. Just with him. In that moment, it didn’t matter to her that they were in the middle of an office although something did register within her she could’ve picked somewhere else. There was nowhere else, though. There was no other time.

When her lungs began to burn, eager for air again, Alice unwound her legs from around him and landed back on the floor. She stepped away and looked up at him, feeling herself redden exponentially so that she matched a skirt of one of the other ladies in the office. She ducked her head, sure she could feel eyes on them. She didn’t care, though. Part of her just didn’t care. In fact, no part of her cared. He was there.

“Have lunch with me?” She breathed, looking up at him. Her lips quirked up all of a sudden. “Hi,” she added belatedly.

For a minute there, Oliver could have sworn he was a character in a movie. In a cheesy movie, right there at the end where the two leads finally got past whatever the hell was wrong and everything went into slow motion because the viewers were supposed to feel it as the characters did. But he wasn't. Alice was there, and it wasn't his imagination. He wasn't replacing the characters in a film with him and her. This shit was real life. He stared right back at her, until she moved so suddenly that he nearly jumped.

Then, he was following her movements, turning his body to face her as she came around the desk and reached for him. It wasn't what he expected, that was for sure. A hug, maybe? No, Alice wasn't subtle enough for that. Then again, if he had bothered to read the note, he would have just done so himself. It had been too long since she was near him, and he couldn't even allow himself to remember that he would have to go back to his flat and she would go back to work. And then, of course, back to her own place rather than to stay with him and Ariel.

So as Alice bounded forward, Oliver didn't bother with appearances. He didn't care. If the employees were bothered by it, they certainly weren't going to say anything. He looked so like his father that it would be obvious: Nothing was going to happen to Alice after the display. His arms drew her in closer as her returned the kiss with equal parts surprise and fervor. He was just reaching up to push his fingers into her hair when she released him. Oliver opened his eyes, blinking down at her in shock, forcing himself to let go when she backed up.

She was embarrassed. It wasn't - luckily - like Alice had thought he was someone else, either. She had said his name. So perhaps she just regretted it. Already. Oliver let his gaze shift back to his father's door, which was still closed up tight, and wondered if he was allowed to run back home and gripe at himself. For a second there, he had been convinced that she meant it. For a moment, Oliver thought things were going to be okay, and-

Oh. She wasn't taking it back. Oliver half wished that he had initiated it, just to say that he had been the one to start it. But he didn't care a whit, now that she had finally said something. "Yes," he replied instantly, approaching and curling his arms around her waist again. "Hey, babe," he added gently in return, leaning down to drop a kiss on the tip of her nose.

"Can you go now?" he asked, failing miserably at his attempts to keep his excitement at bay. "You know dad would let you. But if you're not done with your work I can wait," he offered, trying to hide his impatience. His eyes searched hers for a second before he shook his head, a silly sort of smile pulling at his cheeks. "God, I missed you, Allie."

Ollie’s lips met the end of her nose in the simplest of gestures which meant so much. To her, it was confirmation that everything from this point on was going to be okay. It didn’t express lofty ambitions that they would enter some sort of romantic utopia but it promised her that it was going to be alright in the end because there was something more important than the way in which the world went around. As long as it whirled round and they were together, even the worst of days could still be good ones. There was light, yet, at the end of the tunnel so long as they were together.

“I can go now,” Alice agreed, lifting her glossy lips into a smile, albeit now the gloss was smudged and muted but what had caused it had been worth it.

Pulling away from Ollie, Alice strode back over to her desk and turned off the screen of her laptop which was buzzing away to its heart’s content. After closing the lid plugging it in to give it a bit of charge, Alice picked up her coat, a dark, faux fur-lined trench jacket which kept out every biting wind. She then wound her scarf around her neck and did up the zip, donning her shoes, before returning to Ollie, looking like an odd, blonde munchkin.

Alice happily held out her hand to him, lacing her fingers with his. In falling into step, it was easy to make their way downstairs via the lift and once out into the chilly street, Alice shrunk closer to Ollie, opting to forsake his hand to wiggle under his arm and to wind hers around his waist. With her head idle against his chest and, too, his shoulder, it made the iciness of the December day ebb away. It almost felt pleasant, instead.

The witch picked a restaurant she was becoming more and more fond of as the days and weeks went on. It was a ramshackle mock-Tudor building, though she suspected bits of it were authentic, and it was squished between a more modern bar and a bookshop. She’d been in the bookshop and that had led to the restaurant but now with its low beams and intimate, warm lighting in and around the main room and in the booths and on the tables, she’d fallen in love. She couldn’t imagine anywhere else to go and show Ollie – anywhere else to share.

The lunchtime crowd was sparse at this juncture, it still being early, and so when the pair opened the door and the bell rang overtop, an idle waiter was quick to usher them over to a booth. Hot spiced wine in a generously large carafe was set down with two glasses as well as a basket of warm loaves of bread and a smaller one of butter and jams. The waiter then sped away to attend to someone else, not forgetting to place menus down for them before doing so. But it was private, all of a sudden.

The booth walls seemed to encase them and Alice shuffled along the leather seat, moving closer to Ollie. The booths were meant to be particularly enclosed for those wishing to eat in only each other’s company, or at least the illusion of it. Alice relished the novelty of being able to sit beside him rather than opposite as she supposed they were both used to in restaurants. In sliding her hand down onto his thigh, she turned her head and leaned up to steal a kiss, smiling into the affection happily.

“I missed you, too,” Alice whispered against his mouth earnestly. “I love you, Ollie.”

It became prudent to actually pretend to inspect her menu, though she already had half an inkling of what she wanted. Leaving her hand on his leg, with the other Alice opened the book up and began to scan the pages. The leek and spinach quiche with cabbage thrown in to boot along with steamed broccoli and a stilton sauce jumped out at the woman immediately and she licked her lips involuntarily. She even got some roast potatoes with it – albeit small ones, she hoped, because large ones would be overkill.

When the waiter returned they ordered and ones the menus were gone there was nothing left to do but talk to each other, something that Alice felt was particularly necessary given the way things had been left between them – mostly at her discretion. She regretted it, of course, but nevertheless she did have issues with the things that had driven her to it. She didn’t concede it had been a sensible choice but there had been reasons.

“About before,” she hedged softly, rubbing her hand across his leg soothingly, “I’m sorry. I was just so annoyed and upset by the whole scenario I didn’t know where on earth I stood with you anymore. I felt a bit betrayed, if I’m to be honest. But that didn’t legitimise in any way what I did in retaliation and I’m sorry. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t. And I forgave you on the spot I just couldn’t reconcile the way I was feeling with the way you were and it just hit me all wrong.”

Alice took a breath and continued, “In future, if I swear to be honest with you – will you do the same for me? I’m a big girl, you know. I can take it. Pinky swear.” Alice smiled, holding up the little finger of her other hand to him. “It was important. It was important to you. It is important because it makes you feel a certain way about yourself and has changed your perspective a little bit. I know, I think. If I’m right here, that is. I understand. It doesn’t change who you are, though. Clichéd or not, you’re still you. You’re the man I love. Nothing changes that.”

Reaching forward, Alice picked up her glass of wine and took a sip, wincing as it scalded her tongue, and hastily set it back down again. She leaned in a little and rested her head against his shoulder, glancing up at him again.

“I’ll be honest. I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t quite ready. I’m not. I’m a bit sort of ahh about the whole thing. It’s scary so… I mean, I’m just … last time I had David, didn’t I? He and I didn’t work out. I don’t want it to be the same for us so I’ve got reservations and it’s not because I don’t trust you or anything like that it’s just scary. Stupid as it sounds - can we date? And kind of … ease in? Does that– is that okay?”

Oliver's hand reached over, almost automatically, and his palm covered the back of Alice's hand. It was strange, he mused to himself, that they had somehow jumped right into things without considering the fact that he had so thoroughly offended her. And he must have, to have gotten such backlash from everyone. But in his head it had made such sense. Part of that could perhaps have been his sleepiness from being sick, but most of it had been the absurd fear that she would change her mind down the road and destroy him. Just run him over with a freighter and leave him to fix the bits that were left over.

It wasn't like with the others, where he had been merely disappointed. Oliver had been more confused and angry with himself than he had been torn up about losing them. Except with Natalie, of course, who had been the first to turn him away, and who had done so in a spectacularly public fashion. So wasn't he granted a bit of forgiveness for messing up? Oliver supposed he probably wasn't, really. But he kind of liked the idea that he could be. So he leaned into her kiss, then pressed one to her cheek, returning the sentiment in her ear.

As she brought up the very issue he had been thinking over, Oliver redirected his gaze to her hand. It was like she could tell that he would need to contact in order to listen and fully accept the idea that she wasn't furious with him. As she spoke, he let his fingers dance over the back of her hand. By the time she started to assure him that he wasn't completely in charge of claiming fault, he had set his hand atop hers again, and wiggled his fingers between hers so he could run the tips of them across her palm.

His other hand lifted to meet hers, curling his finger around hers, and had to smile as he realized they were connected by both hands. So Oliver drew them in so he could kiss both of her hands as she continued. In her pause, though, he released her to reach for a piece of bread. He couldn't quite bring himself to start nibbling at it, though, once she directed her questions at him.

"Merlin, Alice. Give a man a chance here, huh? You did the asking about lunch, and now you're asking me if we can start going together? I think both of those were supposed to be my job," he teased, pulling his hand back from where he had it across the top of the booth seat. He reached for her hand again, this time picking it up to settle kisses at the tips of her fingers.

"I get it, you know" he promised, lowering their hands so he could flip hers palm up and run his fingers back and forth as he had done before. Only, this time, it wasn't an absentminded action but instead an active decision. "I didn't... I mean, I had thought about it for a while, but I wasn't... thinking," he endeavored, dropping his gaze to their hands. "I won't pretend that it doesn't still make me nervous, because I still don't know if I trust myself. I mean, Alice, I... I shouldn't have thrown all of that out without explaining.

"See, things don't ever work out for me with relationships. They never have. And I have never understood what I did wrong. It wasn't like I cared about them as much as- ... That is, I wasn't so hell-bent on keeping them out of harm's way, so I guess it just wasn't right. I always wanted it to be right, though," he admitted, reaching his free hand to rub at the back of his neck. "I wanted me to be right. But it hasn't worked out that way before, and there's no proof that it will with you, and I just really don't want to mess it up."

Oliver tilted his head so he could look over at her again, swallowing hard. He could feel how his forehead had crinkled with the effort of actually explaining himself, but nothing could really help him now that he had gone ahead and done so. "I could never consider trying to rush things with you, Alice. Despite everything we've been through, I wouldn't dare. It's just as scary for me, I promise. But I need you to understand something," he added, squeezing her hand. "I have done, and I will do, some potentially idiotic things. But that's because I haven't figured this out yet. And it's because I've never wanted anything so much as I want you.

"And that's the scariest part, I guess. The wanting doesn't match up with the desire to protect you. Even though it should, probably. Isn't that how it usually works?" Oliver laughed almost sadly, shaking his head. "You just need to prepare yourself, love. It's entirely probable that I'll never let you go if you decide you want to give this a try. Because then I'll be all the more attached, and the only way to take care of you will be to keep you. So think long and hard about it before you choose to dive in."

At once, Alice felt herself colour up. She ducked her head and felt a shy smile take hold of her mouth. She looked up again, her azure gaze settling on her lover’s features. She was the colour of the wine they drank, now. A deep burgundy had filled in the spots where her skin had grown pale in the cool, English atmosphere. Her smooth, porcelain hue seemed to yearn for the sun and had relished the watery sheen in the autumnal Avignon. In the grey mire of the West Country, she had regained her whitened pallor and as the blood flooded her features, her skin seemed to take on a healthy glow.

“I’m anxious,” she whined in protest, treating him with a baleful look. Her expression softened as he showed his understanding and she drooped her shoulders, letting the tenseness slide out of her form. She leaned her head against his shoulder and allowed him to take up her hands, her lips quirking up as his found the tips of her fingers.

She listened to him intently, absorbing every word he had for her like they were the lasts she’d ever hear. With each trip and turn of his sentences, she grew more and more resolved to not make a mistake and, if either of them did, to find that forgiveness regardless of what happened. Her heart bled for him a little and wished that she could take away all of the past hurts. Alice reached back out for the hand he’d taken to his shoulder and lifted it up to her mouth, pressing her slips of darker pink skin against his knuckles.

“I’m not in harm’s way with you,” Alice whispered, adding, “I feel safe with you. You don’t need to worry. But,” she added, pointing out that, “I can take care of myself, you know. I’ve done alright. I appreciate the sentiment, though. Just let me protect you, too. Please?” She smiled at him gently, looping their fingers together.

“Don’t let me go,” Alice murmured, meeting his gaze. “Because I’m not going to let you go, either. Give me time to get used to it and I’m yours.”

She leaned up, her lips a whisker from his. “Keep me,” she uttered the command, the test, the dare. Keep me.

"I know that," Oliver burst out, adding in a quieter voice, "I know you can. But there's something about you, Alice. There always has been. Since I saw how you and David acted around each other and I just wanted to step in his way. I want to be allowed to do that for you, even though I know that your family probably doesn't want me to. Especially now. I know that, too. But I could. I could be that for you, and I want to. And I have no problem with you wanting to do the same for me in return. I won't ever mind that so long as we're together."

Oliver's fingers curled tighter around hers as he ducked his chin, his gaze slipping down to her mouth as she spoke. "You got it," he promised with a nod, crossing that last little bit of space between them to kiss her again.

Lifting their hands, he set Alice's down behind his neck, and then trailed his fingers down her arms before shifting to face her properly and dropping one hand to her side. It hit him after a few moments that they were not, in fact, entirely back to normal. They were at a restaurant, not at home, and she wasn't necessarily going to come back right away. There was no proof one way or the other, and he wouldn't dare ask it of her. Not until he had a reason to. They might have been getting back to normal, but Oliver wasn't sure that suggesting such a thing was even remotely on the table.

What would be on the table, though, was their food. And he wasn't sure he wanted to experience that awkward pause when the waiter returned and couldn't decide what to do with themselves. So he dropped a few more little kisses before reluctantly pulling back and nudging his nose against hers.

"Mm," he hummed, leaning away and tucking her hair behind her ear before dropping his arm atop the booth's back. "Yeah, you definitely have to stay," Oliver added, only partly joking, which he showed through a cheeky smile sent her way.

He reached for his glass of water, taking a drink although he was completely unable to push down his grin. Oliver set the glass down, though, when their plates arrived and they needed to make room. Offering his thanks as the waiter left, he turned back to Alice, realizing that he really should have asked after how she was. As usual, they had done things completely out of order.

"So," he began, prodding a bit at his food as he glanced her way once more, "Things are going well at work, I imagine? You seem happy."

As Oliver’s voice clattered into her, a jolt of shock warped up through the blonde woman. His voice softened immediately and as his voice continued to brush up against her ears like a slow, rhythmic, ebbing tide she settled back against him, her eyes beginning to droop as the combined warmth of the restaurant and his frame curled around her. She nodded briefly against his chest, delight chasing out the residual rumbles of surprise. It lightened her entire being to know that they could do that and be that for each other. She could be his protector, as much as he could be hers. That was important – at least, in her mind she felt it was. She wanted it to be even and equal and it would be.

It felt a little bit rushed. Yet, she could hardly say any of it a different way given as she was certain this was her last opportunity to make things right. She could have been accused of jumping the gun in every possible way but she didn’t want anything left unsaid. She wanted to go home at some point. Still half-traumatised by leaving, she wasn’t sure she could do it straight away but she needed him. That meant she needed to go home. It would be heaven to do so, she decided. Even Ariel would mellow enough to be teasingly crabby – considering as someone had to do the washing. She didn’t want to live in her brother’s flat forever, she decided. Although, she didn’t know how she was going to explain to Ollie exactly what she’d done.

Food came and a lightness settled in Alice’s chest. Things were agreed and it was all for the good. Coupled with some veggie shepherd’s pie and onion gravy and everything was completely and utterly wonderful. She picked up her spoon, eager to get stuck in, and after smothering the potato in the gravy she looked up, smiling a little as Ollie asked after, well, her. Alice twisted the spoon in her fingers and thought for a little bit, considering what she was going to reply with. Was she happy? She supposed. Well, she was extraordinarily happy now. But before that? She wasn’t entirely sure about that, somehow.

“Really, really, really well,” she replied giddily, prodding at her potato with her spoon, watching as the gravy disappeared into the holes she made. “I really – oh gosh, I’m going to be saying this a lot aren’t I? No, I just … I love it. Without your dad I think I would’ve been broke and stir crazy. I’m so grateful to him. It’s kind of part of the reason why I’m trying to kill him with muffins and pastries.” She smirked a little bit and shook her head – a ‘not really’ sort of gesture.

“I need to work, I think. I need something to make me tick over and give me a little bit of purpose. Plus, it’s satisfying when you win,” she smiled. “And your dad is so generous. It means I can afford so much pink paint. Rémy is going to spend years picking it off of the walls in that flat,” she laughed and shook her head, beginning to properly dig into her meal.

“You didn’t meet him did you?” Alice asked, lifting her head up after swallowing. “He’s our eldest, evil big brother. Jean is an arse but Rem is something else entirely. He’s horrendously clever and kind of wastes it. He’d rather play life safe. I can’t blame him in any way, either. He’s happy. He was. The flat kind of put a spanner in the works, as it were. It didn’t change his relationship with his wife or with his kids but it did with him and us. The flat wasn’t something he could ever afford and I think he’s really benefitting from me living there. It gives him stronger finances and it’s not something he’s ever had. He’s never taken up dad on any of his offers. The others never sort of did. Marianne would rather bake, Jean likes chatting about football to millions and Rem works with mum. It was always me. I was daddy’s favourite,” she didn’t leave out the inverted commas, “which is part of the reason why you come a cropper with him.” Alice laughed a little bit, shaking her head. “But I took the job offers. Never them.”

“About a month ago, Rem found out his mum died.” Alice took a breath, half wondering why she was spilling all of this out into Ollie’s lap. She supposed it was because he knew. He understood, in a way. He kind of got it. He didn’t but he knew. So that meant he sort of understood. She had no idea, really. But this was the man she wanted to be with. It made sense. There was no one else in the world she would have rather spilled her guts out to. This was her family and by extension now … sort of his, too. She almost pitied him on that front.

“I don’t know how the lawyer found him but he did. It turned out she’d gotten married to someone else and had children, too. She’d left Rem everything and those kids none. They’re adults, mind you, and they’re successful but she’d left my brother everything under the sun. She’d turned out her husband, rejected her sons and went back to this little boy who she had been forced to give up. She’d never forgotten him. It was wonderful, really, but it broke mum’s heart. It was this stark sort of reminder that there were people out there for all of us and it threw away what she understood and what dad understood was their role. They were our parents but they could never provide for us like Rem’s real mum just did. She died. With a drop of a hat he had everything and he was secure financially. He didn’t have to worry anymore about his kids. He wasn’t scared anymore but it made mum and dad scared.”

“There’s a reason why dad gets us jobs. Me. I took the offers. The others are too proud. But it’s his way of providing. They can’t do it on their own – not in the way they’d want to. When I borrow money off of him it’s a loan and I owe him a lot. I’m paying back but that’s the way they do it. And this woman who seemed … I don’t know. She was there, all of a sudden, she was doing for Rem what mum and dad can’t. I think they thought that he’d think they weren’t worthwhile and that this woman was more than they had ever been for him.”

“So I took the flat,” she went on, “because somehow it made it better and it made it feel as though it belonged to family, really family, if one of us was inside because it meant that it wasn’t a former life sort of thing for Rem. Granted mum won’t come near it and she’s still got issues with Rem, still half terrified he’ll reject her, but dad’s been and wrinkled his nose at the pink and it’s okay, I think. I’ve really enjoyed doing it up, actually. But it’s just so … mad. That’s what one moment did and I don’t think we’ll have it all sorted for Christmas, either. He’s had to talk to his step-father and his half-brothers because of it and mum feels like we’re losing him. I think if Rem doesn’t come home for Christmas Day, we’re in big trouble.”

Alice took a breath. “Sorry, for that. I think I’ve just had it up and in me and I needed a second opinion. I don’t think they’re crazy. I think I’d be a bit scared too if it happened but I feel as though in their fright they’re driving him further away. That’s our Christmas this year,” Alice rolled her eyes. “It’s going to be a right nightmare, I can feel it coming. Maybe I’ll work!” She laughed and shook her head.

“Oh!” She added, a smirk rising on her features. “See, you really need to come and spend some of the day with us because there is someone on this planet who my father has more problems with than you and me at the minute. That idiot of a husband that Marianne has sunk his business with shady deals so you know how I literally just said they don’t give out money unless it’s a loan? He’s been yanking dad’s chain about it for weeks. Marianne doesn’t know. The only reason dad knows is because he noticed the figures go awry while he was in the Department of Statistics and the only reason why I know is because I was around when the first discussion was being had and I told him to go and stuff himself in a Christmas cracker. It might just be you, me, Jean and Sabine at dinner by the time they’ve finished arguing.”

Alice rolled her eyes, wondering at what point her family had stopped being functional and comfortable and had started having these stacking problems. No one had liked Stephen, even from the beginning when he and Marianne had first been dating. Granted, they hadn’t liked David, either, but even Jean had taken a dislike to Stephen fairly early on and he was so laid back about life he’d fall through the floor if he got any more relaxed. No, there really was something amiss with him. Now it was beginning to come out. Alice half wanted to tell Marianne but she knew that would end in tears, too.

“I’m having a really good time,” she laughed. “It’s fraught but that’s life, isn’t it? I have no desire to go home for Christmas in any capacity. I think I might hide under a blanket with my nut roast and Le--” Alice blinked. “How busy are you today?” She asked all of a sudden. “Because I need to introduce you to someone.”

Oliver smiled at Alice's assurances that the job was going over well, glancing at her as she started off into her story. He could admit to being surprised that she felt a need to tell him everything that she decided to, but a part of him wondered if it came from his massive list of past explanations. After all, people often felt obligated to return as much information as they had been given in the past. So Oliver hoped that it was because she wanted to do so, and not because she felt that she had to.

Oliver's arm had been laid out across the top of the booth's back, but he let his fingers brush back and forth over her shoulder when she started talking about her brother and the man's mother. It only made Oliver feel more concerned about any future he might find with Alice. They wouldn't find themselves a family in any normal sense of the word, but now there was also a lingering fear that things wouldn't work out when it came to finding ways around the problem.

He decided it hardly mattered so soon, though, even if it made him worry that she might not be happy with the sort of family he could find his way to give her. Oliver wanted her for always, but that meant he had to be able to convince her that everything would be okay. So he just let her explain rather than allowing himself to cut in or make any unhelpful comments.

"Well," he offered finally in return for her Christmas invitation, "I suppose you should probably ask them before you give me the go-ahead on coming to visit. I mean, the last thing I want to do is intrude on your family, even for part of the day. It didn't... well, it didn't go so well last time. Maybe we just meet somewhere between yours and mine the day before or the day after? I would suggest that you come to ours instead, but I honestly don't know how it's going to go now that Thalia isn't going to be here."

Oliver shook his head and sighed, tipping his head to the side to nudge against Alice's for a moment before he sat up straight again, withdrawing his hand from her shoulder so he could reach for his glass. When he set it down, he added, "Perhaps we should think about that after we've discovered what our own family's plans are? I'm really glad you're enjoying work, though. I had a feeling you would like the job from the start."

And, really, Oliver was being honest. He wouldn't have suggested it to his father otherwise. Regardless, though, his thoughts were cut off as Alice changed tack and took hold of his attention again. "Well, I was going to work on my newest idea, but it doesn't have to be done right away..." he admitted, not entirely sure if he was wise in bringing up the story he was working on. But she needed to introduce him to someone? That didn't make sense to him at all, even as he tried to work out who it could possibly be. "Whoever it is, I'm sure they'll be great. Did you want to go after lunch? Or should I meet you after work? Perhaps dad would give you an excuse so you can take the rest of the day off," Oliver added with a smile.

It would have been easy enough to bribe Greg into letting her have the rest of the day off but Alice had a better work ethic than that. There was no sense in jeopardising her job as it would win her no favours and most certainly no friends. She didn’t think she was entirely respected for how she’d gotten the position in the first place. It was lucky for them in the point of fact that regardless of her going back, they wouldn’t have long to wait, either. Alice explained her shift patterns to Ollie, later days in the earlier part of the week ultimately culminating in two short days right at the end if it proved to be a slow week and everything was in order. Thankfully, just in time for Christmas, everything was in order too. So they’d meet after, it was agreed.

After finishing up and splitting the bill, they wandered back to the offices. There they parted ways and Alice returned to her post, sliding off of her shoes again and getting herself stuck back into her work, a smile on her lips all the while. Once some people in the office began to pack up, Alice too started to grow restless. She sat up, clicking her neck and her back as she straightened back out and put down her pen, looking about as she realised the time. She could go home. Then of course she was a flurry of paper and brown folders and envelopes. Some went into her bag, others she straightened into a pile before putting into her drawer. Then she donned her outer clothes again and hurried to Greg’s office to stick her head around the door and shout her goodbyes before half-running out of the building.

Outside she found Ollie and greeted him again with another running-jumping kiss. She laughed when she pulled away and snuggled into him before catching hold of his hand and beginning to lead him off to her flat. The building wasn’t too far from work actually – it was almost as though it had been contrived that way. A few little streets, a back alley and a park were between work and her flat and soon enough they were in the warm, making their way up to through the redbrick building to her front door. It took a minute for Alice to fumble with her keys, unsure which one went to which, but soon enough she got it open and just as she did, a bark sounded from inside.

The door opened and Alice stepped inside just as the corgi puppy came into view, leaping as far as she could before tumbling down and tearing the wrapping paper that had been left out, half wrapped around the castle set she’d bought for her nephews. It had been all in place, too, before she’d left that morning. Alice wasn’t sure whether to shout at the animal or cry. Lemon Rousseau stood, proud as punch, her tail wagging, in front of a disaster zone. Alice was sure her living room hadn’t been quite as messy as it was now. It seemed as though Mrs Higgins had given up and in between her leaving and Alice coming home, Lemon had discovered the joy of ripping wrapping paper.

“I hate you sometimes!” Alice exclaimed, abandoning her things in the entry way to chase after the dog who, sensing danger, hurried under the sofa. “Lemon!” Alice shouted after her, sliding down onto her knees to look underneath. Lemon rushed out from the other side and slid as well as she did run, scampering underneath the pink chairs before peeking out, considering whether or not her owner had noticed she’d disappeared. Deciding that she had, Lemon decided to make a break for it and hurried across the hearth, slipping across wrapping paper, before diving underneath the dining table.

Alice sat up, clearly having figured it out, and Lemon retreated underneath one of the chairs. Alice got to her feet, passing a wary look in Ollie’s direction before making her way over to the dining chair. Lemon took this opportunity and jumped out, yapping at Alice and nearly scaring her stiff. Regaining her countenance, Alice leaned down and scooped up the puppy before she had chance to run away, turning her over in her arms to tickle at her belly, popping kisses over her head as she wiggled.

“You are a little rat bag,” she admonished. “Did Mrs Higgins even come and get you? Have you been a nightmare all day?” Lemon licked at Alice’s jaw and the blonde witch drew over to Ollie wish a smile. “This Lemon,” she turned the dog over and held her up to Ollie. “She’s a nightmare. I was feeling sad and pathetic and Jean knew a guy who knew a guy who knew someone who bred dogs and he got me one. The crazy one, mind you. She’s who I wanted you to meet. I guess I got her because I missed you and Eric so… yeah.” She smiled sheepishly and looked at Lemon who looked at her, beginning to wiggle in an effort to get down.

Alice did as the dog demanded and Lemon took a moment to stand on Ollie’s foot before hurrying off again, again half-sliding to her destination which was the stack of books by the sofa. She used them as a set of stairs and was soon up on a cushion which she snuggled down onto to sit and observe her empire of mess which Alice couldn’t help but wince at.

“It was tidy this morning, I swear.”