All There Is

8 Years Later

AU! So I probably said this starting off but I'll say it now: I'm taking this fanfic very seriously. I really like this plot line and I plan to make this story a good one. Please leave comments and vote if you would like me to continue with chapters or other ideas. I love feedback!!! Alright, enjoy chapter number 2!

Olivia turned the ring over onto her finger. She looked down at it and admired it for a few seconds before pulling it off and turning it around and around in her palm. I am engaged, she thought. I'm engaged to be married. She shook her head. She couldn't believe it. As of yesterday, she was the future Mrs. Daniel Newman. The ring wasn't big, but it wasn't small either. A square diamond set into a thick band lined with smaller diamonds.  She slid the ring back on her finger just as her cell rang. 

"Hello?"

"Hey baby. How're you? I didn't wake you up did I?"

"No, I haven't gone to bed yet. I need to though." She glanced over at the clock that read 11:30. She silently cursed, she hadn't even taken a shower yet. 

"Well, I just wanted to remind you that we have dinner with my parents tomorrow at six at that new place downtown." 

"Oh, yeah. I almost forgot about that. Are we riding with them or just meeting them there?" 

"They'll probably ride with us, they can't drive in cities." 

"Alright. Well, Daniel I'm going to go. I need to finish up some work before I go to bed." 

"Ok sweetie. Sweet dreams. I love you."

"Love you too." She hung up the phone and made her way to the shower. She turned on the water, waiting for it to heat up. She looked down at the ring and decided to take it off. While she showered she thought of weddings. She had no idea where to begin, she'd probably need to hire a wedding coordinator. Could she afford that though? She made decent money at the gallery, but could she really hire someone to take care of everything? How much would that even cost? She decided that she would think about that later. It's too soon anyway, we don't even have a date set, she thought. After her shower, she slipped on a tshirt and towel dried her hair before finally climbing into bed.

She laid on her back with her eyes closed, making up scenarios in her head of the perfect wedding. She would have a white dress with a long train and a veil that would attached to a headpiece that fit into her hair. By now, she was teetering on the edge of conciousness and began to dream. There were lilies everywhere, lillies were her favorite flower and the church was decorated with a mix of greenish hues and white. It was all so perfect. The perfect song played as her father walked her down the aisle (even though her father had passed away three years ago from a heart attack). He led her to where Daniel stood waiting for her. The pastor stood in the center, Bible in hand, preparing to marry them. Daniel's hands reached forward to lift the veil from her face, but when she looked up in the eyes of the man she was about to marry she saw that  it wasn't Daniel, it was him. It was Tom.

She awoke with a gasp and sat up in her bed. No, no, no Olivia. He is gone. It has been eight years! Why are you still hung up over something that lasted six months eight years ago? It is over, it's done. You're being such an idiot. She looked at the clock: 2:30. She got up and got a glass of water before heading back to bed, but as she laid down and closed her eyes. She couldn't help but think where he was in the world tonight, what he was doing, who he was with, was he thinking of her? 

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Tom had been up for almost two hours and it was only 7:30 in the morning. He had given up on sleep after waking up for the fourth time at 5:45. He didn't understand why he hadn't been able to sleep well these past few weeks. He chalked it up to stress for the upcoming Thor movie. He had been busy with interviews and festivals and promotion trips. He had another trip to South Korea coming up in 6 weeks. It may seem like a long time, but with his schedule 6 weeks was like 2.  He rarely had days where he had the entire day to himself. Today was one such day and he practically had to kill somebody to get it. His mangager hadn't been too happy to reschedule an interview on such short notice, but Tom had insisted. He hadn't had a day truly "off" for months. He picked up his cup of tea and took a sip, sitting at his kitchen table in pajama pants and a tshirt he read through a newspaper that he happened to find lying around his house. He flipped through the usual news, the murders, the drugs, the deaths, but stopped when he saw "Chicago Art Gallery to Host International Art Exhibition". Interesting. He had been to Chicago once before, but that was years ago. Eight to be exact. He had been 24 which seemed like so young to his 32 years that he held now. He quickly directed his thoughts somewhere else, Chicago wasn't something he particularly didn't enjoy remembering. 

He stood up from the table, poured some more tea and went over to one of his many bookshelves. He was going to read today, all day. Now to choose which one from the 200 he probably had. He looked up and down the shelves, admiring some of the titles he owned and seeing some that he didn't recognize. Sometime he just bought books just to buy them, which is how he ended up with so many. He settled on The Great Gatsby, one of his favorites that he had read numerous times before. The copy was worn and fragile and even though he had several newer copies, he enjoyed this one better than all the rest. He settled into the couch, his tea sitting on the table next to him. He opened the novel and began to read.

He finished before noon. Now what? he thought. He hadn't a day off in so long that he hardly knew what to do with himself. He settled on watching a movie, choosing one of his favorites which killed a couple more hours. He still had all afternoon though. He called his younger sister Emma who agreed to come over for dinner which he began to prepare as soon as they finished speaking.  He made some sort of chicken pasta that he had planned to cook for another night, but what the hell. He was bored. He had everything finished and waiting on the stove when Emma arrived. He poured her a glass of her favorite wine which he kept stock of at all times. She sat down at the table and noticed the paper opened to the article about Chicago. 

"Chicago? Isn't that where what's her face lives?" 

He nearly dropped the glass as he went to give it to her. "Who?"

"Don't play stupid. That girl you met on holiday years ago. The girl you wouldn't shut up about for months after you got back. Whatever happened to her anyway?"

He plated some of the pasta along with a small side salad. She brought the plates to the table as he poured himself a drink. He sat down across from Emma and picked up a fork, "I don't know what happened to her. Now eat your vegetables." But he was lying, he did know what happened to her: he happened.