(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Twenty: "Romance with You"

Bette

"How about this one?"

As expected, Olivia glanced up and almost immediately shook her head. She bit back a sigh and returned the unchosen dark red dress back to the depths of Olivia's walk-in closet. "What time does this opera start?" she called out.

"Eight."

She glanced down at her watch and rolled her eyes. There wasn't much time then, not when you thought about the time it would take to drive into L.A. "We better get a move on then," she called out, forcing a jovial tone. Not that it did anything to rouse Olivia from her melancholy. "What time is the car service picking you up?

As she walked back out with another dress option, she heard Olivia murmur, "Morris, not the service."

She balked. "Morris is driving you? Is he going to the opera too?"

"Of course not."

"So…so…so, he's just driving you?" Olivia's head turned slowly as their eyes met for a long moment. With a barely-there shrug, she nodded slightly before she turned back to the window. Hmm. One of these days, she really needed to get Olivia to open up more about all the time she was spending with Morris. Gregory's oldest friend or not, there was something going on with them. But, that day was not today. She gently laid the royal blue gown at the foot of the bed before she moved to the window. "Does he know you're going to the opera with AJ?"

"Doesn't everyone by now?" Olivia's arms were folded tight against her chest as she gazed through the glass.

"Not everyone. I didn't include it as a blind item in my Instagram story," she teased. But, Olivia's only reaction was to glance over, her brow furrowed. "Joke, Toots. Just a joke." She reached out and wrapped her left arm around Olivia. "Evy still out?"

"Out? That implies she comes and goes. Evy hasn't been home since yesterday." Olivia's deep sigh echoed between them as she raised her hands to her face and rubbed her eyes. "At least she responded to my text message to say she was staying at Benjy's."

She rubbed her arm, feeling somewhat at a loss. Her own child was as foreign to her as living in another country. Emily had been lost to her for decades. She didn't know what this felt like: to be stunned into silence when you quarrel with your daughter so badly, she leaves home and flees to her boyfriend's. "I'm sure it's been tough," she said softly, swallowing her own regrets about Emily. "You and Evy have been thick as thieves her entire life. You've never really had to argue with her before."

Olivia cleared her throat and she felt her shiver a moment later. "I should have just told her where I was," she said softly. "I should have told her the truth."

"Listen, Toots, it was never going to be easy. When she realized AJ was interested in you. That you were seeing him."

Olivia flinched and turned to her. "I'm not 'seeing' him."

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she followed Olivia into the bathroom. She leaned against the counter as Olivia sat at her vanity and reached for one of the palettes of eye shadow. "It's not easy," she said softly. "It's not easy to make the transition from grieving widow to a widow who lives her life. Who finds romance. With you though-"

She watched Olivia's eyes flicker to hers in the mirror's reflection. "I am grieving," she insisted sharply. A moment later, her expression fell as she turned back to the mirror and brushed the makeup onto her eye lids. "I will grieve Gregory until the day I die."

"But, you're still alive now. AJ's always carried a torch for you. It's-" Olivia shook her head as she trailed off, quickly applying some light makeup. It's not surprising that AJ's back in your life, she thought to herself. It's not surprising that Evy would have such a volatile reaction to finding out you spent the night with him. It's not surprising that you're deflecting now. "So, what do you call it then? If it's not 'seeing' him?"

She inhaled sharply as she blended the blush into her cheek bones. "It's just…"

She watched as Olivia gently placed the makeup brush on the vanity table and looked at her through the reflection. Her expression was full, frown lines deepened and accentuated by the sorrow churning within her. "I'm not judging you," she whispered, moving to stand behind her. Olivia blinked away the shine of unshed tears as she shook her head. "Seeing him. Sleeping with him. Dating him. Whatever you want to label it," she continued as she wrapped her arms around her and squeezed gently, "I'm still your best friend. And, I still love you."

Olivia gasped back a sob and turned around, throwing her arms around her. "Bette," she whispered, hugging her close, "I don't know what I'd do without you." She pulled back slightly and looked up, a weepy half-smile cresting on her lips for the briefest of moments. "AJ and I- I mean, what I'm-"

"Olivia, you don't need to explain anything to me."

"But-"

"I'm really not surprised," she continued over her protests. "After all, you haven't been far from AJ's thoughts since he came back. He asks about you all the time."

"Does he?" she murmured, pausing for a long moment before she turned back to the mirror.

She shrugged and straightened up as Olivia reached for the eye liner pencil. "In hindsight, he went out of his way to be low-key and casual about it. Men and their egos. Always worried about being rejected." Something that sounded like a chuckle rose from Olivia's throat, but her expression suggested nothing of amusement. "Evy will be ok though," she continued and she saw Olivia flinch. "She just needs…time." With a long and deep exhale, Olivia tossed the eye liner aside and reached for the tube of lipstick. She narrowed her eyes, watching the way Olivia's hand trembled as she applied the makeup to her lips. "She will, Toots. Trust me."

Olivia slowly screwed the cap back onto the lipstick as she shook her head. "You weren't there," she murmured. "You didn't see how disgusted she was." She stood, smoothing out her black slip. "How furious she was."

"She's not even 20 yet, Toots. She doesn't understand what this like."

"What what's like?" she asked sharply, turning back in the doorway.

A long heartbeat went by. "The loneliness, Olivia. Loneliness."

Olivia's brow furrowed again before she turned and went back into the bedroom. "I'm not wearing this," she said, carrying the royal blue gown back to the closet.

She always was good at changing the subject, she thought as she listened to the sounds coming from the closets. Hangers clanging against the racks. Fabric of all kinds from different gowns and dresses rustling against one and other. "I'm sure AJ won't care what you wear," she called out. "He'll be delighted regardless."

"I'm sure he would be," Olivia said, walking out of the closet with a simple black cocktail dress. Of course, she didn't want any of the other dresses, she realized. Every dress she suggested was in a vibrant color. Olivia had worn nothing but black since Gregory died. "That's nice," she said, smiling brightly as Olivia slipped it from the hanger. "Audrey Hepburn would approve."

"Can you get me the black beaded clutch from the middle shelf?" she asked as she stepped into the dress. I am grieving. She found the purse Olivia wanted and came back out. Olivia stood in front of the mirror, twisting her hair into a low chignon and stabbing it with bobby pins to hold it in place. "Thank you. Can you put my pills in it? I don't want to forget them."

She nodded, finding the prescription bottle of mild pain killers on the triple dresser. "Shoulder been acting up?" she asked.

Olivia nodded as she gave the bun a gentle pat, checking to be sure it was secure. "More recently, especially in the evenings."

She held out bag and stood behind her, zipping up her dress. Olivia whispered her thanks before she glanced over her shoulder and said, "AJ and I are nothing. Do you understand? Nothing."

Nothing. "Sure, Toots," she agreed as she fastened the hook-and-eye clip at the top of the zipper. In addition to the art of changing subjects, Olivia had also always been a master at denial. If Olivia wanted to refer to her budding relationship with AJ as "nothing", who was she to judge?


Morris

If there was one thing he hated, it was driving to L.A. If there was a second thing he hated, it was driving to L.A. during evening rush hour. If there was a third thing he hated, it was driving to L.A during Saturday evening rush hour.

But, despite all that, there was no way he was letting Olivia be dependent on AJ for a ride home after the opera. He glanced up at the rearview mirror, checking on her. She was sitting quietly in the backseat on the passenger side, gazing out the tinted window. He insisted on it. If he was playing the part of her chauffeur tonight, he needed to look the part. And, so did she – even if she rolled her eyes as he held open the car door for her.

He cleared his throat and asked, "You remembered the prescription bottle, right?" It wasn't the bottle or even the pills inside he cared about. But, it was the deceptively ordinary childproof cap that had his attention. His acquaintance at Mossad provided one that had a false panel at the top. A thin one, one just large enough to hold the tiny tracking device. He could track Olivia to within 10 feet anywhere on the planet.

"I did." A moment later, he heard the tell-tale rattle of her pain killers against the bottle as she shook it.

The engine of Greg's Jaguar rumbled as the traffic began moving and he slowly accelerated. "Do me a favor? Make sure AJ sees you take a pill at some point. Early on in the evening, if you can."

He felt her eyes on him, the intensity of her stare reverberating in the car's interior. "Will that activate the tracker?"

"No. Tracker's already on. You don't need to do anything. But, it'll just set the stage early for while you'll always have them with you."

"But, you know where we'll be tonight. Row and seat."

He shook his head as he glanced at his left blind spot and slipped into a gap in the faster moving lane next to them. "Tonight, the opera." He looked back up at the rearview mirror, meeting her eyes. "Who knows where next time?"

She nodded and pushed herself forward, the shawl slipping from her shoulders. "Morris," she said softly as she pressed against the back of the passenger seat, "I- I don't think I can do it."

"Do what?" he asked, tapping on the brakes as the stop-and-go traffic came to a complete stop.

"Tell AJ he was right. I can't tell him Gregory turned me into an alcoholic." He turned slightly as she said, "I've tried to practice saying it and I nearly vomited."

"Olivia-"

"If I do this, it will be betraying Gregory." Her eyes fell and she exhaled deeply before she murmured, "Just like Evy accused me of doing."

His left hand continued to grip the steering wheel as he reached up with his right hand to take hold of hers. "You're just letting him think he's right about what he said about Greg. Just to get rid of any suspicions he might have about why you stormed out of Grenadine's, but are still cozying up to him."

She shook her head and gasped, "I can't do it. I can't."

He squeezed her hand and she looked back up at him. "You can. Listen to me: 'You were right, AJ. About everything. It was difficult to hear someone say aloud, but you were right.' If you can just say that, it will be enough."

Her eyes fluttered shut, but she otherwise didn't move. He glanced back at the road, inching the car forward. A moment later, he felt her hand squeeze his and he turned back to her. He felt his cheek tingle, the cheek she kissed the other night. He cleared his throat, forcing that sensation and memory away as he looked closely at her. The diamond necklace glittering at her throat underscored how pale she was as she shook her head. "Have you seen Tosca, Morris?"

"Never much cared for the opera. It just sounds like…noise."

With a sad smile, she opened her eyes and looked straight at him. "You sounded like very much like Gregory just now," she murmured. He sat quietly, feeling as if any response would be the wrong response. "But, it is noise – beautiful noise. Bel canto." Slowly, she pulled her hand away from his and returned to her corner of the back seat. But, he still sat half-wrenched in the seat, riveted as she continued quietly, "Floria Tosca kills the man who tortures and, eventually, murders the man she loves." A chill raced down his spine as she turned her gaze back to the window as she concluded, "Perhaps life should imitate art."

"Olivia," he began gravely as a sinking feeling twisted in his gut, "you can't possibly-"

"Can't I?" she murmured, one eyebrow arched as she turned back to him. Every nerve ending shot fire as a burning heat undulated through him. His mouth went dry and he moved to lick his lips, but he was frozen solid. The car's interior swelled in the silence, Olivia's question thundering in the small space. He blinked as she continued to sit there calmly before the tiniest of smirks bloomed on her lips. "Don't worry, Morris. I won't kill AJ."

He felt his heart thump back to life as he continued to watch her. Despite the smirk, he could see the hardened ice in her blue irises. He couldn't help but hear the unspoken word in her attempt to placate him.

I won't kill AJ…yet.


Olivia

"Two sparkling waters," AJ announced as he joined me at the railing. With just a few minutes to curtain, I couldn't bear to sit next to him longer than necessary. Luckily, he obliged without complaint when I suggested we stay in the lobby before finding our seats. "Alas, San Pellegrino, not Perrier."

I took the flute and gently clinked it against his. "Sadly, not everything can be French."

"It is a pity," he agreed, failing to realize my comment was thinly veiled sarcasm.

I nodded blandly and sipped the chilled water, trying to remember if there were one or two intermissions in Tosca. It didn't matter. This evening was going to be an exercise in torture. Forcing a smile to my face, I held my water back out to him. "Would you hold this for a moment? I need to take something before the opera begins."

"Everything alright?" he asked.

With quick nod, I opened my clutch and took out the prescription bottle. With a twist and pinch, the cap came right off. Just like a real one would. "My right scapula was fractured in the car crash." I glanced up as a I shook two pills into my palm. His expression suggested genuine concern. Concern over an injury I sustained in a car crash he orchestrated. I cleared my throat before I placed the pills in my mouth and dropped the bottle back into my clutch.

As I took my flute back and sipped, he asked, "Is it very painful?" A moment later, he stepped slower with a frown as his hand grazed my left one.

"Every moment of every day," I replied sharply, watching him over the glass. I watched him over the glass, the hum from the surrounding crowd in the lobby falling away. My shoulder. My daughter's disgust. My life without Gregory. Was there really a difference? There was nothing but pain now. Sharp and unavoidable pain.

His frown deepened as he stepped even closer, taking my hand. "I'm so sorry to hear that," he murmured. His grip increased slightly and a shudder went through me as I took a slight step back. Away from him. The railing bumped into my lower back and I sighed, resigned. There was nowhere else to go. Except over the ledge, I realized as I thought of Tosca's flying leap off the Castel Sant'Angelo at the end of the third act. "To better days," he concluded, lightly clinking his glass against mine.

"Yes," I agreed. Much better days. Gently, I pulled my hand from his and brushed a lock of hair behind my ear. His touch burned by palm and it felt like a betrayal. One of the many sins I felt I was committing tonight. But, this was for Gregory. There was nothing I wouldn't do for him. Still. With a quick inhale, I reached back and took his hand. Ignoring the tremor that went through me, I stepped closer and looked up at him. His expression registered surprise and his blue-gray eyes widened. "Thank you for tonight," I said softly.

He beamed and I swore he stood taller as he squared his shoulders. "It's my pleasure," he replied as he straightened his tie. He placed his flute on the ledge and then my own, before his now-free hand came to my hip. I forced a smile, remembering the way it felt when Gregory would hold onto my hips as I pressed myself against him. "I want nothing more than to make you happy, Olivia. To see you smile again."

This was for Gregory. "You don't treat me the way everyone else does," I murmured as he stepped closer, just a thin plane of air between our chests. "Like a grieving widow," I continued as my left hand followed a gentle path up his arm. My eyes fluttered shut, remembering the way it felt to wrap my arms around Gregory's neck and the way his arms would enfold me. "You treat me like Olivia." Gently, I opened my eyes and instantly lost myself in Gregory's brown eyes. In the way he looked back at me, a small smile dancing across his normally stern expression. My throat tightened as I leaned in, my palm against his cheek as I pressed my lips to his. Gregory's hands cupped my face as he drew me in, ever closer until nothing separated us. "Olivia, the woman," I whispered against his lips.

This was for Gregory.

The lobby lights dimmed and came back up, signaling the impending start of the opera. I pulled back, my lips burning as AJ's satisfied smirk seared into my memory as he sighed my name. I couldn't say what Morris suggested as benign and vague as it was. But, I could do this. "Thank you for reminding me who she used to be, AJ."

This was for Gregory.

Tears burned my eyes and I blinked rapidly as he leaned back in, his lips hard and eager against my own. I forced a low moan from my throat as his hands gripped my upper arms, my shawl wrinkling beneath his fingers. "And who Olivia will be again," he whispered as his hands slid down my arms to my hands. A moment later, a rakish grin lit up his face as he brought my hands to his lips and kissed them. "Beginning tonight."

This was for Gregory. With a bashful chuckle and a matching smile, I linked my arm through his as he escorted me to the door of the theater. I glanced down at my chest, knowing the small listening device was attached to my bra. Even with the background noise of the lobby, Morris had to have heard some of what I said. What I did. I shook my head, not wanting the program the usher offered. Instead, I walked down the shallow steps to our seats in the front row of the balcony. My arm entwined with AJ's. Feeling like a prisoner being paraded in triumph through the streets of Rome by Caesar.

This was for Gregory.

I sighed and sat down, drawing my shawl up tight over my shoulders as if it could shield me from AJ. A moment later, he took my right hand and squeezed gently. "I hope you enjoy tonight," he said as the familiar sounds of the orchestra warming up surrounded us.

I only smiled in reply and a moment later, the house lights dimmed to black. In the murky dark, I felt my face collapse as a shaky breath rose in my throat. This was for Gregory. This was for Gregory. Gregory. Gregory. GregoryGregoryGregoryGregory. My heart thundered in sync with his name and I took a deep breath, mouthing his name as I exhaled slowly. I slipped my left hand beneath my shawl and began to rub the bands of my engagement and wedding rings. A moment later, the conductor walked into the pit and the customary applause from the audience greeted him. Except from AJ and I…because he didn't let go of my hand. I stared grimly at the stage as the curtain rose and the opening notes of Puccini's dramatic score reverberated in the theater's acoustics.

This was for Gregory.