I choose me.

Part 39: Mr. and Mrs.

I year and 2 months later. May 8th, 2019.

"I can't do this Lola, I can't." Olivia stood directly in front of a fan with her arms up while Lola laced up the back of her dress, Oliver, who was fully grown and whose head reached the middle of her thigh, whimpered at her distress.

"You're getting married in twenty minutes." Lola squeezed and cinched tighter. The two women were in the spare bedroom of Crawford's parent's home. They'd been in Broome for almost a month. "You could have at least spray tanned, I still don't understand you, you've lived in San Diego for so long, then spent a month here, and are still as pale as the day you were born." Lola's nearly white hair was still curly as ever, bouncy too. Olivia had one or two new freckles, but that was it.

There was a knock on the door, "Is she decent?" A muffled voice asked. Lola opened the door and two camera men came in strapped down with equipment, the camera crew had been in Broome on and off since they got there, and all the time now for the last week. "No one wants a T.V. special about us getting married." Lola pushed her down in the chair and rubbed primer all over face, then scoffed and moved the big fan to rotate in the small, stuffy room, it had to be in the nineties.

"You'll never realize who you are, boys dedicate their morning wood to you—relax your face." She said when Olivia scowled, "And women, Crawford is well—especially since he bulked up—he is probably what women picture when they are with their boyfriends."

Things between them had been good since that Monday after he'd taken her back.

"All negative Miss Granger." The stiff white piece of paper was placed into her hands, cleared for all STDs and the pregnancy spot said a big negative. The tiny nurse laughed nervously when she hugged her, she'd gotten another IUD put in as well. They mended slowly, some days guilt would over take her, some moments he'd lash out and she'd take it without argument. But they moved on. Olivia didn't talk about the east coast at all—the only thing she'd done was have Brucey take her entire monthly athlete sponsor pay from PureSide and give it to Shonda instead of just a part. She'd blocked Benny everywhere, on her phone, social media, everything.

"Olivia!" Lola said loudly, "Close you eyes." A cold wet line was drawn on her lash line, then the other, her mind was running with the evening that was about to happen, and on the construction of the new PureSide distribution center and first PureSide flagship store on the west coast, between L.A. and San Diego. With Brucey's guidance and blessing, she'd invested heavily with Crawford and the Kirkpatricks, and would be running the store and be VP of the distribution center, Lola had worked for her for nine months already.

"Did you check with the sheetrock guy?" She asked as her friend painted her lashes in thick black mascara. Lola had started in sales and was quickly surpassing Olivia's level. The muscular, voluptuous blonde was social and flirty, but also sharp minded and quick witted, good at business and closing a deal.

"Stop asking me about business." They had spent last night, not out on the town like Crawford and his friends, the two had sat up and gone over sales numbers, stock for the DC, paint colors and staffing options for the store.

"I have no family to sit for me." She tried slouching, but Lola had tied the dress so tightly, bad posture wasn't an option.

"Freddy and Fitz are here, we are you family babe." Family. The whole month in Broome hadn't been a vacation, there had been a lot of talk after Mulligan's funeral, nothing blew up, but even news like that reaches all corners of the world, especially when your son or brother's name had been involved. Donald was cordial, cold though, his small hooded eyes never quite met hers, Ariel was as kind as ever, the woman who gave Crawford his compassion often held her hand over coffee and took her on walks down the beach, which was literally their front yard.