A/N: Hope you're all doing well! I know it's been a while since I last posted this story—sorry about that! But I do have a new chapter; I hope you like it. As always, thanks so much for reading and reviewing! Stay safe and well!

It's been a while.

It's not that LA doesn't have attractive single men. It does. And she actually has time to date now that she works at a private practice. It's just things in the dating and romance department have been a bit uneventful for her lately.

So, it's been a while.

It's been a while since she last slept with someone, period. And it's been even longer since she last slept with Derek.

And while she certainly hadn't planned to have sex with her ex-husband in the back of his rented jeep, right now she's not complaining. In the coming days and weeks, she might see things differently. But not today. Not right now.

And she can't help remembering a brief conversation that she and Adele Webber once had about their sex lives. Good came later. And then really good came. That's what she told Adele.

It was vague enough, nondescript enough, for a conversation about sex with your boss' wife ... who you're also friendly with (and who started the conversation in the first place).

But in her head, at the time, all she could think was Derek, Derek, Derek.

She's been with Derek (or more aptly, she's been with Derek) for over a third of her life. And quite frankly, very good was an understatement.

And it still is.

She almost forgot how well he knows her body. She almost forgot how well he knows her.

"I can hear you overthinking this," Derek murmurs against her hair, his voice amused.

"I'm not," she defends. And she feels him chuckle against her. "Okay, I am," she concedes. She shifts her body slightly so she can meet his eyes. "That was ..."

"Bound to happen," he supplies casually.

"I was going to say incredible or amazing ..." (or the way it used to feel) "but let's follow your train of thought a bit further." She quirks an eyebrow. "Bound to happen?"

"Yeah," he gives her a small smile. "I've been wanting to do that since the Vineyard."

"Really?" she asks, feeling her cheeks flush.

"Really," he grins.

She can't help the matching smile that's forming on her face. "I, uh, I guess I should probably tell you that I've been wanting to do that since that night we came back from the hospital."

"And if I'm being truly honest," he smiles, "I've wanted to do that since before—"

But she silences him with a kiss. And he kisses her back deeply. And it doesn't take long for things to escalate further.

Maybe round two, like round one, was bound to happen. Of that, Addison can't be sure. What she is sure of, though, is that like round one, round two was incredible.

xxxxx

"Should we be concerned?" Savvy asks, glancing around the dinner table.

"No," Weiss insists. "I'm sure everything's fine. I'm sure they just got caught up or something. There was probably more for them to take care of at the beach house than they realized."

"Addison would have called," Savvy shakes her head. "She's okay with being fashionably late. But she's not okay with being late, late, which ..." Savvy glances at her watch, "they are."

"They have been pretty elusive this weekend," Nancy chimes in.

"I'm sure they just lost track of time," Weiss persists. "I wouldn't be too worried."

"So, should we wait for them to order?" John asks.

Weiss shrugs. "Let's give it a couple of minutes."

xxxxx

She feels completely relaxed and newly invigorated all at once.

Sure, they're a little old to have sex in the back of Derek's rental; she'll be the first to admit that. But right now, she doesn't care. Right now, things are blissful.

She sighs contentedly as Derek lazily runs his fingers up and down her bare arm, the watch on his left wrist (an anniversary present) catching her attention.

"Oh, no," she gulps, grabbing his left arm and pulling it toward her.

"What?" Derek mumbles in hazed confusion.

"The time," she hisses, glancing at his watch.

They didn't leave much buffer time when they said goodbye to Archer and hopped into Derek's car. They certainly didn't budget enough time for a round—let alone two—in the back seat of the jeep.

"We're late," Addison gasps, bringing Derek's watch up to his eye level. "Very late."

"We are very late," Derek admits. And Addison can tell he's stifling a chuckle.

"It's not funny," she warns. "There's no way we can make it there on time. We've missed every birthday dinner this weekend, and ... Stop laughing!" she exclaims, cutting herself off and jabbing him in the rib with her elbow.

"Sorry," Derek chuckles, not sounding very sorry at all. "But you've got to admit, it's kind of funny, Honey."

"Honey?" Addison's eyes widen at that.

"Sorry," Derek apologizes quickly. And this time, he actually sounds sorry.

"What are we going to do?" Addison asks.

Between standing Weiss up twice and sleeping with her ex-husband twice, she decides to let the fact that he called her honey slide for now.

"We missed both of Weiss' birthday dinners," she sighs. "And we weren't exactly around that much at the Vineyard this afternoon ... or when everyone went to go get bagels this morning." She shakes her head. "We're really bad friends."

She can't help mentally scolding herself for her use of the word, we. She wasn't lying earlier when she said it was too easy to slip back into that out here.

"You're being too hard on us," Derek insists. "We may be bad friends; I'll give you that. But we're not really bad friends."

"Derek," Addison chides. "I still want to be friends with Savvy and Weiss at the end of the weekend."

"We will be," Derek persists.

And Addison tries not to focus too much on Derek's use of the word we.

"I should call Savvy," Addison mutters. "To let her know we can't make dinner. Although ..." she grabs her ex-husband's wrist and checks the time again, "at this point we're late enough that she probably assumes as much."

Derek looks down at his watch. Addison's right. Even if they left right now, they'd be very late. And looking at Addison's sex-tousled hair (and doing his best to conceal a satisfied smirk), he knows there's no way she'd be caught dead at dinner without fixing herself up.

He half listens as she calls Savvy. She's purposefully vague with the details, and he can't help wondering if it only sounds vague to him ... and whether Savvy understands what his ex-wife is saying perfectly.

That's one thing he's learned from spending eleven-plus years with Addison—communication isn't always straightforward, and sometimes there's more to be gleaned from what's not said than what's said.

She understands WASP fluently, for example. He struggles. She and Savvy also have their own mode of communicating.

But then again, so do he and Addison.

He can tell what type of day she's having based on the posture of her shoulders alone. He can hear the compassion in her voice when her interns and residents only hear her no-nonsense tone. And he can see the exhaustion behind her smile when she's been working merciless hours or is stuck at a family event and just wants to go home.

He can tell all these things without her saying a word to him. At least he could ... once upon a time. He's in the middle of assuring himself that he still can, when she turns to him.

"Savvy understands. Weiss isn't angry."

"I didn't think they would be," he smiles.

"I know. Still ..." Addison trails off, "I told Savvy we'd have dessert ready for everyone when they get home."

"Dessert?"

"Yeah," Addison shrugs. "I don't know ... I thought it might make us look like more considerate, less selfish people."

"We're not selfish people."

"Derek, we missed Weiss' birthday dinner because we were having sex in the back of your car."

"It's not the first time we've missed a dinner for that reason," Derek shrugs.

And Addison has to fight a smile. He's not wrong. Except all those other times, they were married. Now they're divorced. And the smile fades just as quickly as it appeared.

"So, what are we making for dessert?" Derek asks, sensing Addison's tonal shift and doing his best to lighten the mood.

"We're not making anything," Addison says as she primly adjusts her shirt. "We're setting up an ice cream bar."

"An ice cream bar?"

"Yes," she nods. "With forty different types of toppings."

"Forty types of toppings?" Derek raises an eyebrow. "For Weiss' fortieth birthday?"

"Exactly."

Derek shakes his head and chuckles. "Savvy's idea?"

"Of course."

"Okay," Derek smiles as he scrambles into the driver's seat and he watches Addison scramble into the passenger's seat with as much dignity as she can muster. "Just let me know where you want to get the ice cream and toppings."

xxxxx

"We only have thirty-eight toppings." Addison's eyes are wide. "Derek ..."

Derek smirks at his ex-wife in amusement.

"Don't give me that look," Addison chides. "How can we only have thirty-eight toppings?"

"Well, maybe if someone wasn't so insistent on hurrying at the grocery store, we could have recounted."

"It's too late for that, Derek. And we had to hurry." She looks at the toppings—all thirty-eight of them—laid out neatly in little white bowls. "What are we going to do?"

"We're going to do nothing," Derek smirks, slotting in behind her and casually slipping an arm around her waist. "We're going to count on the fact that nobody is actually going to count the number of dessert toppings."

"Weiss might," she mumbles.

"He won't," Derek insists, even though both of them know that there's a fairly decent chance he will.

"If only we went to that birthday dinner," Addison mutters under her breath. "If only we hadn't—"

"Hey," Derek cuts her off. He places both hands firmly on her hips and turns her in his arms so she's facing him. "Truth or dare?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Derek says, his hands still planted on her hips. "Truth or dare."

"Derek, we don't have time for—"

"Truth or dare, Addie?"

She shakes her head and sighs. "Truth."

He smiles at her response, but immediately grows serious. "Tell the truth ... are you really upset that we missed Weiss' dinner? If you could undo what we did, would you?"

She swallows thickly. "The truth?"

He nods, and his bright blue eyes connect with her pale blue ones. And for a moment they just stare at each other.

"No," she says quietly after a moment. "No, I'm not upset we missed dinner. And no, I wouldn't undo what we did."

He nods in satisfaction, a small smile playing on his face.

"Um, Derek?"

"Yeah?"

"Truth or dare?"

He can't help the chuckle that escapes his lips, but one look at her face makes it clear that she's not playing around.

"Truth or dare?" she repeats.

"Truth," he says, slightly repositioning his hands on her hips.

"Same question," she breathes. "If you could undo what happened in the back of your jeep ... would you?"

"Addison..." his eyes widen. "Are you really asking me that?"

"You asked me that," she points out, narrowing her eyes at him. "So ... would you?"

"Would I undo what just happened?" he asks, repeating her question. "No," he shakes his head and pulls her in closer. "Of course I wouldn't."

Her arms immediately wrap around his neck, and she kisses him tenderly; her free hand stroking the side of his face.

In her heart of hearts, she didn't think Derek would describe what had happened in the back of his jeep as a lapse in judgement. But there's something about hearing him say it out loud that makes it feel more real.

She's not naïve, and has been through enough (especially with Derek) to know not to expect anything to come from this. But for the first time in a long time, things with Derek are not one-sided ... so, for the time being, she can relax—a little bit, at least.

So, she does. And she keeps kissing him.

And it's nothing like the time they kissed outside the house or at the vineyard or in Derek's rental car. This time, it's not frantic. It's searching. It's—

"We're home!" Weiss announces.

And Addison can't help wondering if his exaggerated tone is for their benefit or if it's the result of a few too many drinks at dinner. In any case, she's grateful.

She unwillingly pulls away from Derek and does her best to quickly fix her appearance.

"We're in the kitchen," she calls out.

She hears her friends' footsteps grow closer, and hopes that maybe—just maybe—they won't have too many questions for her and Derek.

xxxxx

"Why are there only thirty-eight ice cream toppings?" Weiss asks. "Shouldn't there be forty?" He looks at Addison and Derek in confusion. "I'm turning forty; you know that, right?"

"Of course we know that," Derek says irritably. "Turning thirty-eight doesn't exactly warrant a surprise party in the Hamptons."

"So, were there supposed to be forty toppings?" Weiss persists. "Did you guys eat the other two?" Wait ..." he trails off slowly, eyeing Addison and Derek suspiciously, "are you two supposed to be the last two toppings?"

"Weiss!" Derek warns.

"Because, if so, I'm spoken for," Weiss finishes smoothly. "And," he lowers his voice, "I'd venture to guess the two of you are too."

"We were rushing and we may have miscounted," Addison says primly. "That's why there are only thirty-eight toppings. That's the only reason."

When she was worried about her friends asking questions, this wasn't exactly what she had in mind. But she'll take Weiss' questions about dessert toppings all day, every day if it means not having to answer questions about her and Derek's whereabout during the birthday dinner they missed.

"Either way, I appreciate this," Weiss continues, helping himself to a scoop of cookies and cream ice cream and topping it with crumbled Oreos. "But," he gestures to others, "nobody likes eating alone."

"You don't have to ask me twice," Savvy chuckles, grabbing an ice cream scooper. And everyone else follows suit.

"You were right," Derek whispers, sidling up beside Addison.

"About what?" she turns to him.

"Weiss noticed there were only thirty-eight toppings. You called that."

"I know Weiss," she shrugs.

"You do know Weiss," he agrees, spooning some chocolate sprinkles onto her ice cream.

"Thanks," she says appreciatively, gesturing to her ice cream.

"Sure," he shrugs.

From the outside looking in, it's a simple interaction. But the reality is that it's anything but simple.

Putting toppings on Addison's sundae is second nature to him. Out of the thirty-eight toppings, he knows which ones she likes and which ones she doesn't. He knows which toppings she wants a lot of and which she just wants a little of. He knows she likes chocolate sprinkles on chocolate ice cream and rainbow sprinkles on anything else. He knows she likes Snickers, but hates Three Musketeers ... unless they're frozen.

And he knows that she knows the same types of things about him.

It shouldn't be a big deal, but for some reason it feels like a big deal.

Addison may have known that Weiss would say something about the toppings; she knows him, sure. But Derek knows that that's nothing compared to the way that he and Addison know each other.

And he watches, almost in pain, as she drizzles the exact right amount of chocolate fudge on his sundae.

The whole thing—simple as it is—is so emblematic of the way things were and the people they used to be ... and how easy it is for them to slip back into that.

It feels so natural—so right. He doesn't question it.

He doesn't question it when she curls up against him on the couch to eat her ice cream, despite the fact that they spent the whole day together and spent very little time with anybody else. And he doesn't question it when she steals a spoonful of peanut butter cups from his ice cream bowl. He likes peanut butter cups, but she loves them; and he knows the amount that she actually wanted to scoop on her ice cream would be considered unseemly (by her and only her). So, like always, he topped his own ice cream sundae with extra peanut butter cups.

She doesn't question it when he helps himself to some of her chocolate ice cream because they both know he loves the combination of coffee and chocolate ice cream ... and, for whatever reason, the chocolate ice cream always seems to taste better when he takes it from her plate.

They do all these little things without hesitation or question.

And after all the ice cream has been eaten and all the dishes have been washed and put away, he doesn't question it when she stands in the doorway of her bedroom, reaches her hand out towards him, and says, "Derek, are you coming?"