(Italian translations at the end.)

Chapter 9

Sunday

11:14 p.m.

The art gallery showing was to be held on the following day, Monday. They had eaten dinner, barely a word being spoken between the two women, but it wasn't for lack of Tony trying.

She had attempted to initiate conversations many times, asking questions, but the brunette detective only provided curt answers. Not rude, but not detailed either. They had made a simple dinner of baked chicken and broccoli and had found the wine cellar, located downstairs in a basement of sorts—a room only large enough to hold around one-hundred bottles of rich-bodied, aging wine.

The two ladies had decided to go their separate ways after a somewhat late dinner at eight-thirty—late for the brunette, normally eating between five and six for the babies—and she had no idea where Tony was, but she was happy to have time to herself to just think.

She had taken to lying on the sectional, in the corner of it, along the length, having changed into a pair of three-hundred-dollar jeans and a five-hundred dollar—yes, five-hundred dollar—Balmain t-shirt, feet bare, dim floor lamps on either end of the bookshelves behind her, a vanilla-colored faux mink throw over her lower body, the sweet canine curled up against her left thigh, near the edge of the sofa, sleeping, already taking to the animal-loving brunette.

She took another sip of her merlot and closed her eyes, listening to a Spotify playlist already loaded onto their hundred-inch Smart TV. Currently, "No Ordinary Love" was playing by You+Me. She lifted the book of poetry by E.E. Cummings that she had found on the bookshelf and looked at the page she had been on.

"I carry your heart with me…I carry it in my heart…I am never without it…anywhere I go, you go, my dear…and whatever is done by only me, is your doing, my darling…"

Leaving the book on her lap once more she groaned and wiped her eyes with her left hand. Jesus, what was she doing to herself? She felt her eyes begin to water even more now, her emotions winning the internal battle.

But her attempt at pretending that none of this was permanent, that it would be over soon, was no use.

The distractions.

The wine.

The music.

The book.

They were all making things worse.

Everything reminded her of her wife and it was something she couldn't escape.

Olivia's mind felt jumbled yet, at the same time, as clear as a bell.

There were two voices in her head—one was virtually yelling, the other barely a whisper. She knew which voice she should listen to. It was the one that continued to place her wife's face, her wife's voice, her wife's soul into her head every second that she was at this luxurious abode.

She felt as if she were floating in outer space, her tether having become detached. She was holding on to the handles of the spacecraft, climbing along the outer metal exterior, feeling and reaching for the next hand hold, aimlessly searching around the vessel for a door to enter.

She took another sip of wine and rested the glass on her right thigh, feeling the alcohol hitting her now. She felt warm, fuzzy, content and, once again, her mind drifted to her wife.

That clear, porcelain face that spoke to her without saying a word. Those captivating blue eyes that said what she was feeling, no matter what her mood. Those intensely focused eyes that silently spoke to her of the love that she felt, and Olivia knew that her own eyes, in turn, eternally spoke the same messages. Always.

Olivia swallowed the lump down into her throat, willing her tears away as she smiled and laughed lightly at their freedom they had developed as well. Not just physically, but emotionally. Nothing mattered but them. And that was how it had always been. Since dating. Since their engagement.

How their love had only grown in the past four years. They had gotten settled, for sure, but they were still learning each other, growing closer and closer as a couple every day of their life-long commitment to each other. And in the end, it was always just them. And would always be just them.

Olivia felt her eyes watering now and she took a deep breath, looking down to find Princess looking up at her. She set the open book down on her lap and scratched Princess's head, smiling. "You're a good girl," she said softly.

She closed her eyes and wondered what Alex was doing at that moment. Probably watching TV with her parents. And, as dull as that might sound to the layperson, Olivia absolutely loved those moments, cuddling with her wife, feeling her warmth, her hot breath, laughing with her, catching glances, knowing that they would be even closer in just a matter of time once they retired to their bedroom.

But that was when all was perfect.

That was when there was no tension between them.

That definitely wasn't how they had been over the past few days.

And it was Olivia's fault.

"Hey…" a voice said softly.

Olivia opened her eyes to find Tony hovering over her.

"You asleep?" Tony stood back now in a pair of short black running shorts and a black tank, her feet bare. "You OK, Olivia?"

Olivia swallowed again and smiled. "Not really," she said softly.

Tony smiled. "Mind if I join you and maybe we could talk?"

"Uh…I don't…I can't…" Olivia started.

"Just for a few minutes. Maybe we can come to an agreement and you can talk through some of what you're feeling?"

Olivia took a deep breath, not having the energy at that moment to argue. So, she simply nodded.

"I'm gonna get a glass, too. I'll be back."

Olivia only watched her leave the room. She took a deep breath and let it out through vibrating lips, closing her eyes.

She heard a glass tinkling in the kitchen and knew that Tony was coming back.

She entered and took the bottle from the coffee table and poured herself a small amount. She set the bottle down and then moved closer to Olivia, holding her glass out. "To closing this case soon and everything going smoothly."

Olivia nodded. "Definitely," she whispered, clinking glasses with the other woman and bringing it to her lips, her eyes hovering over her own glass. She swallowed and set her wine back on her right thigh, watching as Tony sat on the smaller part of the leather sectional.

"I don't want to make you talk if you don't want to, so let me start out by telling you about myself. Really telling you about myself. Other than what you've been briefed on. I think it might be important to get to know each other better..."

Olivia didn't know if she wanted to hear this, or if she even cared, but waited, nonetheless.

"I grew up in North Branford, Connecticut, where there are a lot of Italian-Americans and Italian immigrants. My parents are from Italy, both of them…so I'm first generation American..."

"I love all things Italy," Olivia offered, smiling. "Parli italiano?"1

Tony smiled, "Ovviamente! Sono cresciuto parlando italiano!"2

Olivia continued, "Quanti anni avevi quando hai iniziato a parlare?"3

"Non appena ho detto la mia prima parola, che era "biscotto"."4 Tony smiled. "Very nice Italian. Where did you learn to speak so well?"

Olivia set her glass onto the top of her thigh from taking another sip. "I taught myself when I was in the Academy. I wanted to learn, thought the language and people and country were beautiful, so I taught myself." She smiled.

"Very impressive." She winked.

And Olivia only looked at her.

"OK, a little more about me…" Antonia looked up at the ceiling. "I have four brothers, my grandparents are still alive and are in Cicely…I've dated men and women but prefer women…" she paused and looked at the older brunette. "I'm kind of seeing someone, a woman, a bartender, right now, but it's not very serious."

And Olivia only continued to watch her, unwavering.

"I have a feeling you could probably teach me a lot, Detective. Even though we've only just met, I'm really inspired by you."

Olivia furrowed her brow. "You don't know much about me, Antonia. I mean…you know I've been married for four years, have three kids…but that's it."

Tony narrowed her eyes now, studying the brunette detective, "But I see more in your face, in your eyes…"

Olivia felt her emotions coming on again. So, she could see it.

It was no wonder. She wasn't hiding anything well at this point, and she knew it. Her frustration. Her sadness. Her anger. Her distance.

"How old are you?" Olivia asked.

Tony smiled, "Thirty-four…"

Olivia laughed lightly. "So, we got married when you were twenty-four?" She shook her head. "Doesn't even make sense."

"It's plausible," Antonia assumed. "How old are you? I was only told that you've been a detective for fourteen years."

"I was an officer before that," Olivia said softly to herself, her eyes glazing over. "Just a beat cop." She looked up now and answered. "I'm almost forty-five. Forty-five in January."

Antonia's jaw dropped. "No, you're not."

Olivia managed a thin smile. "I am." She looked down at her glass again and took another sip before rubbing the sides of the bowl soothingly.

"Well, let me first say…you look incredible."

Olivia laughed again. "I've always wondered what people mean by those kinds of compliments. What does forty-five normally look like? Is that a comparison to what other forty-five-year-olds look like to that person?" She looked up now.

Antonia looked contemplative. "I don't know. Maybe. All I can say is, you have an amazing body, a beautiful face, incredible hair…you're gorgeous, Olivia."

Olivia laughed again, shaking her head.

"What? You don't think so?"

"I didn't say that. I have enough confidence to know that I'm not hard to look at and the fact that my wife tells me all the time…that's all the proof I'll ever need." Her eyes glazed over once again, thinking about her wife's hair, her skin, her mouth.

They sat in a comfortable silence now, just listening to the music continue to play softly. Billy Ocean was singing about what the color of love was.

"Do you still think you can do this?" Antonia asked out of the blue.

Olivia looked at her, furrowing her brow.

"Do you think you'll be able to do this with me, for however long we have to be here and pretend like this?"

Olivia's expression straightened now before she felt her eyes filling with tears once more.

Antonia continued, "I mean…I, personally, am looking forward to playing your wife for however long it takes, but you've only been here six hours and you seem so…"

Olivia's eyes flashed to her then. "So, what, Tony?"

Tony stumbled over her words, "I…I…just…th…"

Olivia reached over to the coffee table and placed her glass on the surface, the little dog jumping down and moving to Antonia's lap. The brunette detective swept the throw from her legs and swung her feet to the floor. She sat, elbows on her knees, her forehead in her hands, clenching the hair on her scalp.

She closed her eyes.

She was miserable.

Every thought was her wife.

Every moment she thought of what Alex could be doing, what are the kids doing? Was she in bed? Was she asleep on the sofa, as she had been known to do in Olivia's absence? Were the kids crying? Was Alex going downstairs for water or warm soy milk, which was a usual occurrence when Olivia had to go out of town or whenever the blonde worried?

Had Theo said any new words that shocked his blonde mother and that would shock Olivia? Had Cathy Cabot done or said anything that might have Olivia and Alex rolling on the floor with laughter outside of the elder woman's presence? Were Katie and Bill and Cathy comforting Alex?

If she couldn't pretend to be in love with this woman, if her thoughts were constantly on her wife and family, then Antonia was right. This would never work. Everyone who came into contact with them would be able to see the brunette detective's misery.

And she knew faking it for longer than a split-second was absolutely out of the question for the woman that she was at this point in her amazing life with Alex Cabot. She loved her wife so much, her soulmate, her love, her everything. She knew anxiety and torment in trying to pretend to be in love with someone else would be seen from a mile away.

Olivia clenched her hair even more firmly now, on the verge of letting out a loud scream or, at the very least, a groan of frustration.

But she didn't. She only tried to let the calm enter her body, taking slow, deep breaths to try and calm herself, her mind, and her heart.

She knew what she needed to do even before Tony asked if she would be able to do this.

She had known what she needed to do from the moment she said goodbye to her wife and family at the beach house.

She knew what she needed to do the moment she entered this extravagant home.

And then, without thinking about saying it first, she uttered, "I'll call my Captain in the morning. I'll tell him to get someone else."

Translations:

1 Do you speak Italian?

2 Of course! I grew up speaking Italian!

3 How old were you when you started speaking?

4 As soon as I said my first word, which was "cookie".

A/N: Thank you to the readers who reviewed the last chapter. You have no idea how much they mean to me.

As always, thank you for reading, and I would love a review to hear what you thought, even if it's only a couple of words.

Sincerely,

Patricia