There was no house in Vermont or standing in the sun anymore. There was me and OPA and the large white hat that I was SUPPOSED to be wearing. There were red wine stains and popcorn and despair and death, and hooch. Mellie had brought hooch. There was Mellie standing before me demanding acceptance and Vanessa demanding explanations. There was a dead Fitz and a begging Jake and a friendless Abby, but no. There was no house in Vermont or standing in the sun.

"So the two of you... You were seeing each other?"

I couldn't even believe I had said it out loud, it was so preposterous. How many times had I gone on television and said it? America loves a love story. How many times had I pitched them to networks, to the American people? America loves a love story.

I took a swig of hooch.

"Isn't that what you wanted? You never wanted to be the wife. You were never happy with him."

"Don't you tell me what I was! Don't you dare make it seem as if I didn't breathe that man every minute of my life. Don't you dare make it seem as if I didn't dedicate the best years of my life to him when he wasn't even mine. I built that man. I bled for that man. I made that man good enough to love you! Don't you ever fix your mouth to tell me what I felt for him, with him!"

I stood then. I'd only had a few sips of the home brew, and I was still steady on my feet. I took off my shoes from the day and shed my sweater. I swept my hair up into a ponytail and grabbed the freshly popped popcorn from the counter next to the stove. I ate the microwaved stuff when it was a good day. The stove popped when it wasn't.

"Olivia, I didn't come here to argue. Fitz needed me, and now that he isn't here, it's time you and I planned his funeral."

I snorted at that.

"You and I? Tell me Mellie. What do you know about that man outside of politics? You tell me what you know about that man outside of fatherhood, and presidency, and optics?"

I stared her down. I was angry now, but not for the reason Mellie expected. I wasn't angry because they were screwing or pretending to love each other. I was angry because this never got old for her. Her righteous indignation about being his scorned wife. My justification as to why being married to Mellie made one deserving of having a mistress.

"I knew him in ways that you didn't. Ways that you couldn't because you were random and not required. Ways that-"

"Random? The fact that you actually believe that is laughable. Random? My relationship with Fitz was no more random than yours! You wanna talk about random? Who did he want to see when he was recovering from a gunshot wound? Who did he spend the rest of his life chasing after? Who did he worship, in more ways than one? I was everything for that man! He lived and breathed according to my word! I was gospel! He attempted to lay sacrifice after sacrifice at my feet! Your marriage, his presidency, the lives of his children, his own life! Random? The only thing random here is that you decided to spread your legs after I told him that I didn't want him. The only thing random is that you decided it would be a good idea to sleep with him after YOU said that he took everything from you! I was as required as oxygen for that man. Don't flatter yourself or attempt to inflate the importance of your relationship because you need to hold onto a memory that doesn't exist with a man that no longer exists."

With that I downed the glass of hooch in front of me. I couldn't breathe or process when she was here.

"Olivia, what do you want me to do?"

"Leave. I'll call you."

"The days of me doing what you want me to do, when you tell me to do them, are over."

"Oh please. That's part of the reason your marriage lasted as long as it did. You can't be controlled. If you've ever done something I asked you to do, it's because you wanted to."

A small stare down ensued. Mellie had always been taller than me, but my fury did an excellent job of evening the score.

"Aren't you going to ask how it happened?"

"How what happened? You and Fitz? I know how it happened. The two of you have children together. At your awful attempt at co-parenting, someone said something that made the other feel guilty or sentimental. The two of you took a pause from being disappointed in each other, and before you knew it, you were on your knees. Because if I remember correctly, that's how he always liked you. Kneeling, subservient. One thing led to another and Fitz, a weak man, allowed himself to be manipulated. That and he was swept up in the wonderful idea of having two women. But now, he's dead Mellie. So how the two of you happened to fall into bed together is irrelevant to me. What matters is what we're going to do now."

"What we're going to do?"

"Yes Mellie. We. You know as well as I do that Fitz was murdered, and neither of us is great at making friends. Now, I'm done talking about this for today. Stay or go, but I'm done."

I expected her to take the bottle of hooch with her. She didn't. She rose silently from the table and walked to the door. But it was just like Mellie to try and have the last word.

Fitz had a type.

"It's ok to cry Olivia. But don't make a scene. You're better than that."

With that, she was out of the door. I snorted with derision. I had been called worse than that before. Mellie had long since ceased to hurt my feelings. I gathered my shoes and sweater and went into my bedroom. I was a lot of things. Messy was not one of them. As I stared at my red, dry eyes in the mirror, I could tell that I was different. Fitz's death had changed me. I had always been on the small side, but I prided myself on having just the right amount of curves. Now, I had easily lost 10 pounds, and when you're already miniscule, it just made me look... ill. I had dark shadows under my eyes, and I'd been wearing an unhealthy amount of beige, even for me. I needed something more than popcorn and wine. Something stronger than hooch. I called Jake.

"Vanessa keeps asking where I'm going."

"Then tell her."

"I do."

I never understood why he didn't just remove his tie in the car. He knew what he was coming here for. He knew how this would end, no matter how many times we tried to talk ourselves out of it.

"I don't even know what I'm doing here. I told you last week that if you couldn't choose, I would choose for you."

"Just because you didn't like my choice, doesn't mean that I didn't choose. Pants. Now."

"No."

This was the annoying part. He resisted in the beginning. He pretended to take the moral high ground at first. He'd bring up Vanessa and Fitz to try and make me feel guilty. Then, he'd pout and behave like a petulant child. It always ended the same way. I would walk to the bedroom and sit on the bed. 5 minutes later he would join me. Today, I didn't have the patience.

"Ballard, you can do this or not. Nobody is stopping you from being faithful to your wife. Nobody is making you do anything you don't want to do. This particular game has bored me for the last time."

I poured myself another glass of wine. Everything seemed to be taxing today. Everything seemed to grate my nerves. As if on cue, the phone rang.

"You know who you've reached. I wouldn't, but you're more than welcome to leave a message."

"Olivia, I know you're home. Please answer me. I've been trying to apologize. I won't beg."

Another derisive snort. She was like a fly on garbage. Ignoring her call would not make her go away. I felt hands slide across my waist. They were the wrong hands. They would have to do. I would never feel the ones I wanted ever again.

"You're too thin. Have you only been eating popcorn?"

I didn't answer. He was supposed to be here to help me, and instead he was asking all of these questions.

"I can call Gettysburger. Get you a double Lincoln..."

"The last thing I had from Gettysburger was an Underground Railroad, and with the way it tasted, it probably should've stayed underground. There's beer and water in my fridge. I want Chinese."

With that, I knew our plans for the bedroom had been temporarily abandoned. The men in my life were slaves to violence and their stomachs.

I had started to get lost in my thoughts while I sipped my wine.

Fitz...

I couldn't get the sight of his cold, dead body out of my mind. I had started to think of the months leading up to his death when Jake entered the room again.

"I called Nicky's. Beef fried rice, extra beef, sweet and sour chicken, and, potstickers, steamed and fried."

All I could do was smile and nod. And smell blood. Fitz's blood.

I admit I let Jake undress me. He was good at that. If he gave it to Vanessa half this good, I'm sure her docile brain was thrilled.

"Does the smell bother you anymore?"

He stopped at that. He was probably curious. That was always his downfall. Mine too. One of the only reasons we were good together.

"Liv, what smell? You know I like your perfume."

So that was it. He wasn't going to admit to killing his best friend.

"You know what I'm talking about. You may be pretty, but you certainly aren't stupid."

I got up from the couch to grab another bottle of wine. I was going through this pretty fast, even for me. 1 bottle of Shiraz down, and curtesy of Mellie, two glasses of hooch.

"Olivia, whatever you're accusing me of, I had nothing to do with it. If I'm not with you, I'm with Vanessa, and you know she watches me like a hawk. I can't believe you made me marry her in the first place."

"That's enough. Your feeble attempt at lying is boring and insulting, and quite frankly, the fact that you're a murderer hasn't stopped me from sleeping with you before, and it sure shouldn't hinder your ability to take your pants off. After the Chinese gets here, we'll go back to the reason I called you over here in the first place."

He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but he could tell I wasn't in the mood. When he got here, he'd left his phone on the table, and it had started to ring. Glancing at the screen, I saw Vanessa's smiling photo fill the screen. Looks really were deceiving. The woman was a shrew in person.

"Your wife is calling."

He glanced just as casually at the screen as I had a few minutes ago.

"When you come here, when you come to me, for me, what do you tell her?"

I knew he wouldn't want to answer that. No man having an affair wants to spend more time talking about his wife than he does getting naked.

"I tell her that you and I have a meeting."

Another snort. The only things that met between the two of us were our genitals. We had agreed that it would be for the best if we no longer worked together. And for good reason. The last time we worked together, the love of my life ended up dead.

"Jake, do you think we only get one great love in life?"

He hadn't seen that one coming.

"When I first met Vanessa, before you, or your father got involved, I think that I loved her."

I was getting really good at snorting derisively.

"You don't think you love someone. Either you do or you don't."

"The only person I know that I have ever loved is you."

I smiled at that, and waited until he sat next to me on the couch to speak.

"It's ok to admit you never loved me. You must have achieved some thrill from screwing the bosses daughter, some sick pleasure derived from being allowed to touch the most unattainable thing in your life. I imagine that you fancied a future together that included us standing in the sun and never coming back to Washington. A future where Captain Jake Ballard was a real person and I was content to sit at home in our townhouse and play the little woman, keep an eye on our children and make jam. The problem with that is that is that not only could I never be with someone who could murder their best friend, this is not Vermont, and you've killed the only man I was ever willing to make jam for. I'm going to have a shower. I'll take some Chinese when it gets here."

A stiff wind probably could have knocked him over, but I didn't glance backward to see.

"This may not be Vermont, and Fitz may be dead, but I didn't kill Fitz, Liv. I would've given you the courtesy of a phone call before I murdered what you believe to be was your one great love."

"You know nothing about what Fitz was to me."

"When are you going to understand that I know everything that he was to you. I've seen it with my own eyes!"

He struck a nerve there. Whether through B613 or the NSA, he knew that I hated to be spied on.

"I don't care what you think you saw. Anything that happened between Fitz and I was between us. We loved each other."

"It can't be that simple. Love. Love?"

"It is that simple. Even on that island with you, it was that simple."

"I wonder if that would still be true if he had known you aborted his baby?"

"I have never and will never need permission to exercise my legal right to choose. And what I may or may not have done with his baby is absolutely none of your business. We aren't here to discuss your current profession or Fitz really. Unless of course you'd prefer I speak another man's name while you're inside of me?"

"Whether falling from your lips or a mere thought in that pretty little head of yours, it has always been, and will always be about Fitz. At least for you."

He just had to get the last word in. I had a type.