Prologue: "An Emotion Worth Keeping"
She watched him as he inspected his appearance in the full-length mirror of her living room. No foundation, no lipstick, no scent of her signature perfume, ultimately no signs of his rendezvous with Olivia Pope. Rolling her eyes, she walked over to him, stretched out her hand, and led him to the door. Unlatching the deadbolts, she let out a long sigh, one she hoped he didn't hear. If he did, he didn't let on, instead, he pulled her toward him, and gently kissed her on her cheek.
"Thanks" he whispered, and before she could ask for anything more, he was gone. She let out another deep breath, and then two more, and then four, until the feeling was tolerable.
Even through the peephole Steven looked exhausted. Tackling both his and her case load during the day, and listening to her non-love life drama at night,and he was yet to complain, he deserved a humanitarian award. She let him in, without hesitation.
"I figured Pinot Noir has been a little ineffective lately",he greeted, "why not go for a new red?"
"I am ok with whatever takes me out of my head", she answered, "besides I've heard good things about this brand of Shiraz". On the good nights, after visits from Fitz,she would lay in bed staring at the ceiling, enjoying the numbness of her cheeks, from the excessive smiling, or from pleasuring him. Other nights she would take in the scent of his cologne, as she cuddled with her pillow, and fell asleep, but those times had become less frequent. On bad nights, nights more recent, nights like tonight, she called Steven, and he brought wine.
"I don't get it, I don't get him." she said irritably, not giving enough space between her sentences to breathe. "I go through the same routine every time we meet. I shower to remove the scent of my perfume, I take extra time to make sure there are no traces of make up on me, and he STILL, finds the need for paranoia. I'm not trustworthy? I want to ruin someone's marriage? My dream is to become a home wrecker? My dream is to be the next Monica-"
"That's not what it is" Steven interjected, reaching for the remainder of the Shiraz, "He's the President of the United States, Liv, it's not a good look. He has to cover all his bases."
"Bases Smases" she quipped, realizing that she was slightly more tipsy, than she had originally thought, and then more seriously "I'm not feeling good about this anymore, and I don't think he gets what it's doing to me". She reached for the T.V. remote, and found a movie that she knew they both would enjoy. "I think it may be time for me to resign"
"Good." Steven said eagerly, " because I'm in need of a vacation".
Both the Shiraz, and her buzz gone, Olivia sat next to a snoring Steven. She should be sleeping, she wanted to be sleeping, but she couldn't sleep. Instead, her mind was trying to tie down an appropriate emotion. Most women would be angry, they would demand the time and respect that they deserved, but those were wives and girlfriends, not mistresses. When you're a mistress, Olivia was learning, you accept what you get. You rearrange your plans to match his, you stomach through the public kisses between man and wife, you deny yourself the privilege of being upset over a canceled meeting, but you do NOT get to feel entitled to anger.
She had tried tirelessly to map how she'd gotten to this point, but does any women really know for sure? You go on living your life, taking on new opportunities, helping out old friends, and within an untraceable moment you find yourself coming to a ferocious climax, as you feel him pulsating inside of you. You lay nestled in his arms, as he kisses your arm and back, as you fall effortlessly into a slumber. Of course good things don't last long, because as soon as the moment's passed,you both have to bring yourself back to reality. He goes back to his unhappy marriage, and you go back to your work. Olivia wondered if this was how people became addicted to drugs. When she was with Fitz she was as high as she'd ever been, but not long after he walked out her door, she was crashing back into reality.
Not being able to feel angry, didn't make Olivia's feelings less complicated, it made them more so. Olivia was scared, she was hurt, lonely, guarded, but mostly, Olivia was in love. The final thought formed like a curse word on a child's lips: awkward and harsh. She didn't allow herself to entertain the thought for long, only meeting it with skepticism.
"He's married Olivia", she whispered to herself, "do you seriously think you're gonna change his mind?" she asked condescendingly, but feeling hopeful.
"Who are you talking to?" Steven groaned from beside her, his eyes only half open.
"Are you sober yet, or do you need to stay over?" she snapped back
"If I could stay over that would be great, I've got a bloody hangover" turning his head into the couch cushion
"Ok." She said before turning the lights out, "Thanks Steven", she added before heading to her own bed. She only hoped she could get some rest tonight.