Prodigal Son

Chapter 33

Felicity left the 6th Street office location, unwilling to stay another minute even if it meant leaving without signing the lease. The apartment on loan from Palmer Tech was downtown so she walked the few blocks in a blur, alternatively fuming and close to tears. Oliver wasn't back yet and she needed every minute before he returned to the apartment to get her emotions back under control.

Nothing really had changed in her relationship with Oliver, but Moira's assumptions pulled the rug out from under hers. Or maybe just forced her to admit how precarious her relationship was with Oliver. She thought by making it clear there were no expectations, she was being smart, safe. But she left Moira's apology session feeling foolish and naïve.

She was neither of those things. Moira was wrong. But she was also in her head.

Moira was still in her head a few hours later at the official ceremony to celebrate the completion of phase one of the Queen Memorial Initiative—the shortened name was quietly adopted shortly after the video of Robert grappling with the Glades councilman was posted.

Felicity applauded along with the crowd in front of the Freitas Four. The worn but cozy trailer where she and Oliver spent weeks overseeing the project was gone and in its place was a medium sized stage zealously decorated with red, white and blue bunting. The Mayor snipped a pair of oversized gold scissors through a red ribbon and then turned to shake hands with Moira, Oliver, and Thea. Other top donors quickly swarmed to do the same.

Oliver smiled, shook hands and took photos with them all before he stepped offstage. Again he was surrounded, this time by residents of the Glades, vendors, and others on the crew. He even took the time to charm the reporters and film crews that apparently were an inevitable presence when you were Starling City royalty. And why shouldn't they reach out to touch him? He was their fallen prince returned to his throne.

Did they even know he wasn't that same thoughtlessly selfish boy they'd once tracked in the tabloids? She wasn't sure they cared or even remembered they'd been a part of what chased him out of town. If his own mother hadn't learned to separate who her son had once been, why should she expect anyone else to?

Moira was wrong about Oliver. Felicity was unsure Moira ever really knew her son. Under no circumstance, past or present, could she imagine him wanting an "arrangement" for a marriage, but now, he'd doubly abhor it. He'd never stomach the lies and games required to make it happen. Oliver valued—craved even—loyalty, trust and the one thing he had the hardest time expecting back, love.

And yet, Oliver wanting love and a real partnership someday didn't mean he wanted them with her. Like her, he'd made no promises and asked for none in return. They had something special between them, but in the last few months, Oliver's life had been turned upside down. What if what he most wanted now was to be on his own? Back in control of his space, his future?

They'd sort of skipped the dating part before moving in together. It shouldn't have worked, but they got along well. Whatever adjustments they'd had to make for each other had been relatively minor. But what if the adjustment had been simple because he didn't plan on having to put up with her less awesome habits for very long?

No.

Long term or short term, Felicity didn't believe he'd pretend like that. He wouldn't lie to her. It's not like they hadn't had disagreements, but they'd worked through them. The sex was amazing, but she actually liked being with Oliver the rest of the time as well. He cared. She knew he did. She wasn't imagining it. But did he feel the way about her that she did him?

Moira got one thing right; it was too late to get out with her heart unscathed. But if she ended things now, she could leave with her pride. What if that was his plan? Oliver had let her take the lead in so many aspects of their relationship, could he expect her to initiate the breakup as well?