Damaged

Song #3

"Hi Olivia," Eric grinned, entering Fitz's apartment and wrapping the tiny woman in a hug.

"Eric!" Olivia squeezed her arms tightly around him, smiling against his shoulder. "I've missed you!"

"I've missed you, too, Liv." Eric pulled back, kissing Liv's cheek and turning toward the quiet woman behind him. "This is my fiancée, Sabine."

"Hi." Suddenly, Olivia was shy, nervous in front of Eric's stunning fiancée. For her part, Sabine smiled at the petite woman in front of her and reached for her shoulders, air-kissing her cheeks.

"Olivia! It is a pleasure to finally meet you." She was taken aback by Sabine's accent. Fitz hadn't told her that Sabine was French.

"You, too. What part of France are you from?" Sabine smiled at Olivia's questioning, shaking her head ever so slightly and allowing her long, dark ponytail to bounce from side-to-side.

"I'm Belgian. It's a common mistake."

"I'm sorry."

"No worries!" Olivia gave Sabine a grateful smile as she stood to the side, allowing the couple to finally enter the apartment. Eric took Sabine's knee-length coat and hung it on the coatrack by the door – alongside his. Sabine straightened the emerald sweater dress she wore and followed Olivia to the kitchen, where the shorter woman checked the oven.

"Dinner will be ready in another fifteen minutes. The chicken is taking a little longer than was expected." Olivia reached for two wineglasses, her grey and green Pink varsity shirt rising enough to reveal the waistband of her leggings. She hadn't dressed up for the night – Fitz had assured her that it would be an entirely informal affair. After setting the stemless wineglasses on the counter, Olivia pulled the chilling chardonnay from the fridge. Uncorking the bottle, she poured some of the light-colored liquid into the glasses and set the bottle on the marble countertop. Handing a glass to Sabine, the two women clinked glasses before taking a sip.

"How long have you known Eric?" Sabine reclined against the countertop, her dark eyes studying Olivia.

"About six years, now. I was a bit of a jerk these past two years, though." Olivia sipped at the liquid in her glass, eyeing the oven. She had been a bit of a jerk to Eric. He'd always been a great friend and then, after breaking up with Fitz, she had refused to answer his calls or messages. He was Fitz's best friend – she hadn't seen why he would consider remaining her friend.

"He mentioned that he hasn't seen you in a while." Olivia nodded, placing her glass on the countertop and pulling a pair of red oven mitts from a drawer.

"I was a little lost then." She slid the oven mitts over her hands and opened the oven, pulling the chicken from the heat and filling the room with the rich, intoxicating aroma of garlic. Sitting the glass pan on the counter, she turned the oven off and shut the stainless steel door.

"I'm going to let it cool for a few minutes before we eat."

Outside:

It hadn't been long after the two women had disappeared into the kitchen, that Fitz and Eric had excused themselves on the pretense of a smoke break – a nasty habit, Eric was inclined to admit, but a habit nonetheless. As the two men walked down the near empty sidewalk, it may have been six, but the early darkness and cold air had convinced most to take shelter in the warm confines of their homes, their conversation turned toward the dark topic of Edison Davis.

"How's he adjusting?" Fitz asked, as if they were discussing a new puppy.

"Not well. He's already had the privilege of solitary confinement."