A/N: Hey! I hope you and your loved ones are continuing to stay safe and well as we navigate these crazy and unsettling times. I've got a new chapter for you – writing is proving to be a great outlet for me, and I so appreciate your amazingly kind reviews and messages. Thank you so, so much! I hope you like this chapter, and I hope you're having a great weekend (even though the days are all starting to blur together)! Stay safe!

"Addie, are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

Addison looks up and meets her ex-husband's eyes. "No, that's okay. There's nothing to talk about."

He knows for certain that's not the case.

"Addison," he prods gently.

"I'm fine, really."

He's pretty sure that's not the case either.

"Well, I'm not fine," he says.

She shrugs half-heartedly. "It's just Bizzy being Bizzy."

That may actually be true. But he also knows she doesn't believe that.

"It's just the way she is," she continues, practically proving his point for him. "She's just being Bizzy," she says again, and he knows it's not to convince him, but herself.

"Be that as it may," he acknowledges," it doesn't make it ..."

But he cuts himself off when he sees her shaking her head at him disapprovingly. She didn't like it when he weighed in on her relationship with her mother when they were married. He imagines she has even less patience for it now that they're divorced.

"Fine," he concedes. "Truth or dare?"

She looks at him in bewilderment. "Haven't we already played enough truth or dare?"

"Probably," he admits. "But humor me. And also pick truth, because I know you always pick dare."

"Why?" She looks at him skeptically.

"I don't know," he confesses. "Maybe it's because you've never been one to back away from a challenge, so dares don't scare you. Or maybe it's because silences and lies were so much a part of your childhood that now, as an adult, being forced to tell the truth is —"

"I wasn't asking you to psychoanalyze me, Derek. I — why is it so important for us to play truth or dare?"

"Truth or truth," Derek corrects as solemnly as he can.

"Right," Addison says doing her best to fight a chuckle. She tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear and sighs. "Fine. Truth."

And Derek can't help smiling at the fact that she's conceding and playing along. But the smile fades almost as quickly as it appears. "Tell me the truth, you don't really believe any of the things your mother just said, do you?"

Addison shrugs. "I don't know."

"Addison, you have to tell the truth."

"I am telling the truth," she says defensively.

"Oh."

He hadn't considered that. He figured she was just avoiding his question. It hadn't occurred to him that maybe she really didn't know how much of what Bizzy said she actually believed.

But it makes perfect sense.

"You believe some of it."

Addison narrows her eyes at him. "Are you asking me or telling me."

"Both, I think."

Addison nods in concession. Typical Derek, always trying to have things both ways.

She looks at her ex-husband curiously. "Why does it matter so much to you anyway?"

"What?" Derek blinks in confusion.

"We're not married anymore," Addison points out. "You have no obligation to me, so why do you care so much about whether I believe what Bizzy said?"

"Because you do believe it," Derek insists adamantly. "I don't need to play a stupid game of truth or dare with you to know that."

Addison's cheeks flush at that. She'd grown so used to Derek pretending his past didn't exist. She learned how to handle that. But this ... him blatantly admitting to how well he knows her ... she'd forgotten how to handle this.

"Even if I do believe it," she recovers, "the question still remains — why do you care?"

"I ..."

The thing is, he doesn't know. She's right — they're divorced and he has no obligation to try with her anymore. He should be at Weiss' birthday dinner, drinking overpriced scotch, eating overpriced steak.

But he can't imagine being there. He can't imagine being anywhere other than where he is right now.

And that makes no sense.

It's easy to see that she's miserable. That she's unhappy in LA.

He knew she was miserable in Seattle too. As much as he tried to pretend that she didn't exist there, he knew how out of place she felt in Seattle — how lonely she was.

And as far as he was concerned, she deserved it. In Seattle, she was an interloper. She didn't fit in. But New York ... this has been her home for as long as he's known her. And she's visibly uncomfortable here — even when she's surrounded by her closest friends.

He can't help thinking about what Weiss said to him about giving the guy he'd become in Seattle the weekend off, and trying to go back to the way things were. He's not sure it's possible but, for some reason, he finds himself trying.

"For what it's worth, I don't believe a word of what Bizzy said," he tells her.

Addison looks at her ex-husband skeptically. "When did you ever take anything Bizzy said seriously?"

"Fair point," he nods. "But, come on Addison, we clearly proved all those people who didn't expect our marriage to last wrong. We were married for eleven years."

"But we're not married anymore," Addison points out. "So did we really prove them wrong?"

"Well, I —"

"Our vows were till death do us part, Derek. Not till eleven years do us part."

"And that's my fault?"

"I didn't say that, Derek."

"Well, you're not exactly saying that it isn't my fault," he points out defensively.

"I know that."

"Addison, I wasn't the one who slept with your best friend. You were the one who—"

"Who what?" she interrupts, eyes flashing. "Who singlehandedly ended our marriage?"

"Addison, I didn't say that."

"Only because I stopped you."

"I wasn't going to say that," Derek insists.

"Maybe not explicitly," Addison refutes. "But you were going to imply it."

"You don't know that."

"I do."

"How?" Derek challenges.

"Because I know you!" Addison practically shouts, surprising both herself and Derek with the tone of her voice. "Because I know you," she repeats more calmly.

"Addison, I ..."

But what can he really say?

That he wasn't just about to blame her for the breakdown of their marriage? That would be a lie. He was heading straight down that path before she stopped him.

And she was right – he wasn't going to state it explicitly, he was going to imply it. So, he can't refute that either.

He wants to tell her that she doesn't know him. Not anymore, at least. But she won't believe it. And, if he's being honest, he's not sure he does either.

"Truth or dare?"

He blinks in surprise. "What?"

"I said truth or dare, Derek?"

Her jaw is clenched, her entire body rigid. Her eyes are boring into him, somehow laser focused and miles away all at once.

"Addison," he tries to reason.

But she won't have it.

"Truth or dare, Derek? And you better pick truth."

She says it so seriously, so intensely, he can't bring himself to argue with her.

"Truth."

"Okay," she breathes, deflating a little.

And he can tell just by looking at him that she wasn't expecting him to play along.

She swallows hard, her eyes boring into him again. "Do you honestly believe I was the only one who was responsible for the breakdown of our marriage?"

"Addison."

"You have to answer, Derek."

"Addison," he persists, "you already know the answer to that."

"Apparently, I don't."

"Addison."

"Answer the question, Derek."

"No, I'm not going to answer the question," he says fiercely. "I'm not doing this. I'm not going to let you do this. I'm not going to let you reduce our marriage to a game of truth or dare."

"You reduced my relationship with my mother to a game of truth or dare."

"That's different."

"Different how?" she demands.

"I don't — it just is."

"Fine," she concedes, eyes still flashing. "Even if it is different, you reduced our marriage to worse."

"And you didn't?"

"Your repeatedly reduced our marriage to worse, Derek."

"And you didn't?"

"I fought for our marriage," she insists. "At the end, I was the only one fighting." She sighs heavily, eyes shining with tears. "Bizzy's right," she says in defeat.

She doesn't need to elaborate. Despite the fact that Bizzy said a lot of things on that phone call, Addison doesn't need to specify which part of the phone conversation she's referring to. Because he knows. And if he knows Addison (which he does), she knows that.

What she doesn't know is that he doesn't believe it.

"Addison ..."

But she shakes her head at him firmly. "Derek," she says, her voice mechanical, as she glances down at her watch. "We're late for dinner. We don't want to be rude."

She starts to stand up, but he presses her arm against the arm of the Adirondack chair, forcing her to sit back down.

"Derek," she protests. "Come on, we're late."

She tries again to stand up, and again he stops her.

"Derek, what are you –"

"Would you just —" he sputters in aggravation, as she continues to try to stand. She sinks into the Adirondack chair in defeat, and he meets her eyes, shining again with unshed tears.

And for a moment, they just look at each other.

"No," he says quietly. "Okay? No."

"No?" she blinks. "No what?"

"No, I don't think you're the only one who's responsible for the breakdown of our marriage."

She nods silently, and he can tell she doesn't believe him. And maybe he shouldn't be surprised.

Still, it causes something in him to shift.

"And you weren't a speedbump either."

"I never said—"

"You didn't have to."

She swallows roughly and her eyes move to her manicured fingernails. Apparently, he's rendered her speechless.

It should feel good. He answered her questions – the one she asked and the one she didn't. It should feel good. But it doesn't.

"Truth or dare, Addison?"

She raises an eyebrow. "I can pick dare?"

"I hope you do," he tells her, a hint of lightheartedness creeping into his voice.

"Okay," she says hesitantly. "Dare."

He smiles slightly. "I dare you to have dinner with me tonight."

"You mean you're daring me to go to Weiss' birthday dinner tonight? Which ..." she checks her watch again, "we're already very late for."

"No," he shakes his head, "I'm daring you to skip Weiss' birthday dinner and have dinner with just me."

Addison looks at her ex-husband in confusion. "Why?"

"Why not?" Derek shrugs.

"It's Weiss' birthday dinner" she points out. "We can't miss it."

Derek shrugs. "He'll have another birthday dinner tomorrow. We'll make that one. Besides," he reasons, "neither of us really like the restaurant Savvy chose for tonight."

He has a point. Savvy chose Weiss' favorite restaurant in the Hamptons for dinner tonight. And, admittedly, both she and Derek have always thought the restaurant was overrated.

"I'm surprised you remember that," she says.

"I remember things."

Only the bad things,Addison can't help reflecting.

He remembers her affair — not that she can blame him for that. And he remembers how unhappy they were towards the end of their marriage.

The rest ... she remembers the rest.

Pouring over medical textbooks together. Eating bad Chinese food together on Thanksgiving. Buying—and christening—the brownstone together.

She remembers the way he comforted her when her hairstylist cut her hair way too short back when they were residents. The way they comforted each other when they lost a patient they'd grown attached to.

The way he looked on their wedding day. And the way he looked their honeymoon.

The time they both got the flu and jokingly blamed each other for bringing it into their home.

The pride she felt watching his career take off, and the pride she felt in matching him step for step.

Memories of them with Savvy and Weiss. Memories of them with their nieces and nephews. Memories of just them.

"Addison?" Derek prods, ripping her from her thoughts. "Will you go to dinner with me?"

Will you go to dinner with me? That's how it all started the first time.

Technically, it started over the cadaver. But the first time they were truly alone together, it was over dinner.

"I'll let you pick the restaurant," Derek offers.

She swallows roughly. Admittedly, dinner with Derek doesn't sound like the world's worst idea. For starters, she's starving. And she's pretty sure her friends are probably halfway through their second course at this point.

And for the first time in longer than she can remember Derek wants to do something with her. Granted, it's too little too late. Their marriage is over. That's what he said, at least. He was right, she supposes; she just hadn't been ready to stop fighting.

She owes it to herself to have dinner with Derek. That's how she's rationalizing it, at least.

They owe it to themselves.

He left New York without saying goodbye to her. She left Seattle without saying goodbye to him.

They're in need of some closure. Eleven-plus years of marriage—they deserve that much.

Their relationship started with dinner. It should end with dinner. Not the way it ended in Seattle.

"Do you think Weiss will mind if we miss dinner?" she asks.

He shakes his head and thinks about what Weiss said about wanting things between him and Addison to be the way they were—for the weekend, anyway.

"Trust me, Addison, he won't object."

"Really?" She raises an eyebrow.

"Really," Derek confirms. "Honestly, I think he'll be happier than anybody."

Addison nods mutely, letting it all sink in. Weiss is fine with them missing dinner. Derek wants to have dinner with her. She wants to have dinner with him. When she lays it out that way, the whole thing seems pretty simple.

"Okay," she agrees.

"Okay, as in you're saying yes to dinner?"

She nods. "Just give me fifteen minutes." She gestures to her outfit. "I just need to change."

He looks down at his own plaid shirt and feels the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. "I guess I could change too."

She can't deny she's fighting a smile. "I'll see you in fifteen minutes, Derek."

He nods. "It's a date."

She's about to disagree. She's about to insist that it's the world's farthest thing from a date. But she stops herself. Now's not the time to get into technicalities. And besides, it's the closest thing she's had to a date in a while.