Finally, six weeks after the Rossellini incident, Kevin and I are assigned a case. He's bouncing off the walls with excitement, and I'm grateful to be on the opposite side of his grumpiness. The case is familiar—high-end drug dealers and mules pushing cocaine and heroin to young, wealthy socialites. There are two women in charge of their Manhattan circle, and one of them even looks like me, except for her long red hair instead of black.

"You going to be ok with this?" Kevin is well aware of my drug dealing days. He's seen pictures and read descriptions about my work, and I've shared several stories about my illegal glory days.

"Yeah. Thanks though."

For this assignment, I get to wear Versace, Chanel and the like. I have a short, black bob and wide-rimmed glasses. If I had to describe the look, I'd call it French intellectual. I learned a little French when I was working for Kubra, so that will likely come in handy as my character was supposedly born in France but educated in the US.

Kevin and I spend the week researching our assignment and go on one mission to gather information undercover. I fit in with the drug dealing women seamlessly, and this feels like it'll be an easy case to break.

I'm glad not to have to work that Saturday so I can go to Nicky's barbeque. I half expected to have heard from Piper, asking me not to go, but she hasn't contacted me. I'm confident Nicky told her we ran into each other, and she must know we would've exchanged numbers. I buy a new pair of linen pants and a breezy red top with spaghetti straps for the occasion and pray to a God I don't believe in that Piper is actually at the party.

Though Nicky told me to be at her place around three, I show up closer to 3:30 with a growler of root beer and a bottle of rosé. The door is wide open when I arrive, so I walk in to a room filled with 10-15 people. The music is loud, but no one seems to be bothered as they effortlessly carry on their conversations. I don't recognize anyone, so I head towards the French doors that open to a deck. The smell of barbecued pork wafts through the air on the back of laughter. I recognize Piper's laugh even through the cacophony around me, and it brings a smile to my face.

"I'll take those." A petite woman reaches for the bottles I'm carrying. "I'm Tammy, the neighbor."

"I'm Alex, the friend."

"Are you friends with Nicky or Piper?" She puts the bottles in the refrigerator, and then holds up a can of soda and a can of beer.

I take the beer. "Both."

"They're on the patio if you'd like to say hello." She smiles and walks back into the living room.

I take a moment to look around. There are traces of Piper everywhere, and for a moment I'm jealous that she shares this place with Nicky. This should be ours. I recognize a piece of art hanging in the living room as something Piper bought in Lombok. There's also a vase on the mantle that I remember Piper buying in Berlin…or was it Munich? There are no photos of me, not that I expected any; in fact, the only picture in the room is of a smiling infant, and I'm sad that I don't know if it's Nicky or Piper's niece.

"Vause, you made it!" Nicky hugs me. "Sorry if I smell like roasted pig."

"It smells delicious." I take in a big whiff. "I brought you a growler of root beer from that place on Amsterdam. Kikis or Tikis..."

"Beekies," she corrects. "I love that place! How'd you know?"

"You used to talk about a root beer store on the Upper West Side when we were at Litchfield." I shrug. "I did a little research and figured this was the one."

"Thanks, Vause. It's good having you back." She pats me on the back. "Have you spotted Chapman yet?"

I purse my lips as my cheeks heat up.

Nicky shakes her head and chuckles. "No need to answer that."

I shimmy through the crowd to the patio where another ten people are gathered. Piper's back is to me, but I'd recognize even her backside from a mile away. She's wearing a short, white dress that catches a breeze every now and then. Her hair drapes down her back, and I notice it's longer than I thought it was. She lets her head roll back with laughter and I get a glimpse of her neck. I've always loved her neck.

"It's my understanding you're the hostess," I say as I approach her.

She whips her head around, expression changing to one of uncertainty. "Hi."

"Hey."

She takes a sip of lemonade. "Nicky told me you might show up."

"I was invited, so…" I explain, feeling somewhat defensive.

"She told me that, too."

I toy with the tab on my can of beer. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah, it was just a summer cold." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "Thank you for the daffodils."

"You're welcome."

We stand in silence for a moment, and I'm sure her mind is racing as fast as mine. I watch her eyes roam down my body—she's trying to be coy, but it doesn't work.

"I've been meaning to give you the number of someone you might want to reach out to," I say, pulling out the now crumbled Post-It note that I've carried around forever. "It's my partner, Kevin's wife. She's been through this whole undercover thing, and he thought it might be good for you two to talk if you have questions."

She stares at the paper. "Why?"

"I would imagine you'd have questions about what to do if you saw me undercover again or in situations like this when I might have to use a fake name or lie about what I do for a living."

She lifts her brows. "You use a fake name?"

"When I'm undercover I do, but Nichols knows me, so it wouldn't exactly work in situations like this." I glance across the patio, trying to act casual, but I know my next question will come out accusatory. "Why didn't you tell me you were roommates?"

Piper rubs the back of her neck. "I knew it would be complicated."

"If I would've told you the night we ran into each other that I lived with Nicky, you would've been worried I'd tell her what went down at the club," she begins. "I didn't want you to think I'd give your secret life away to her, blowing your cover."

"That's not exactly how it works, but thanks," I let out a short laugh.

Piper creases her forehead. "So, you would've totally accepted that I lived with Nicky and never warned me about saying too much to her?"

"That would've been better than thinking you were shacking up with your lover!" I blurt out, wishing I could take it back. "I didn't mean…"

She tries hiding a grin, but it's no use. "You were jealous."

I can't hide it, so I just fess up. "Of course I was jealous, Piper. How do you think it's felt over the last six weeks to wonder if you're in love with someone else?"

"I'm not," she states plainly, folding her arms. "I mean, I'm not in love with anyone else."

I feel my eyebrow cock up. "Anyone else?"

A blush spreads across her cheeks. "Or you for that matter."

I smirk.

"Anyway, I should…um, make sure we have enough beer and stuff in the refrigerator." She brushes past me, and I grin from ear to ear. I have a chance to make this right.

As the day goes on, I meet several of Piper and Nicky's friends. I don't divulge my last name (something I learned in training) nor do I talk about my life. If anyone asks, I tell them I temp for companies all over Manhattan—boring enough for them to never enquire further. Piper and I are always within eyesight of each other, and I often catch her looking my way. She seems mostly at ease, though there are moments when I can tell she's tense, and I wonder if it's because of my presence. I'm thankful Nicky is around to lighten the mood. I'd forgotten how easy going she is and how quickly she can alleviate an uncomfortable situation.

By seven o'clock, I've had four beers and have switched to the spiked lemonade that Piper has been sipping all day. It's the first time since before I went to prison that I feel tipsy. Well, there was that one time at Litchfield when I got drunk off Poussey's hooch. Other than that, the most I've drank this past year has been two glasses of wine or beer in one sitting.

Piper bumps into me, and I can see she's drunk. "Your glass is almost empty."

"I should probably quit while I'm ahead," I reply.

"Ahead of what?"

I smirk, enjoying how cute she is when she's tipsy. "You ok?"

She tilts her head. "There's a rooftop deck. Wanna watch the sunset?"

"Yes," I state definitively. I will not pass up an opportunity to be alone with her.

"Will you pour us another drink?"

The one I make for myself has half a shot of vodka. Piper doesn't need to know that.

She's lurking near the kitchen, seeming not to care about the way she watches me. At the beginning of the party, she concealed her gaze, but now, it seems she has pretty much given up. It's like she's inspecting me. Her eyes aren't lustful; they're curious—like she wants to know more but is afraid to ask (or doesn't know the right questions.)

"Lead the way." I hand her a glass of lemonade and follow her up two flights of stairs.

Before we make it to the top, I put my hand on her hip and she doesn't shoo it away. I let it linger there a few seconds before retreating.

She spins around, looking at me rather than the sunset. "Here we are."

"This is amazing."

It's a 360-degree view of Manhattan where I'm sure we could see the sunrise as well as the sunset.

"Nicky's mom pays for this?"

Piper nods. "She owns like six buildings in the city. We pay the bills, but she covers the rent."

I nudge my glasses. "Must be nice."

She ventures to the edge of the deck, setting her glass on the ledge. "Is your rent outrageous?"

"I don't pay rent either—the DEA covers the cost since I have to move so fucking often."

The music and laughter from downstairs carries in the air, and I feel extraordinarily free—like I can tell Piper anything about my job and my living situation. I've kept my life bottled up for so long that I feel like a genie out of its bottle. It's the total opposite of how it felt when I was locked up.

"That's a good deal."

I laugh. "It's nothing like this—mostly studio apartments with dorm-style furniture."

She turns to me. "It's free."

"True," I reply. "But it never feels like home."

Piper reaches for my hand unexpectedly. We link fingers and I rub my thumb across her knuckles. Neither of us says a thing—we just stare at our joined hands.

"It feels good to touch you," I whisper.

She lets go as if she was under a spell that has now been broken and doesn't say anything for a moment.

I remain still, allowing her time to get her thoughts in order.

Finally, Piper looks up at me, shaking her head. "I'm having a hard time with this—with trusting you, believing the reasons you left."

"I get that." I want to hold her hand again, but I grab my glass instead. "I'm not hiding anything. I could lose my job, or worse, risk my life by being this open with you."

She remains quiet.

"That's why I want you to talk to Kevin's wife. Ask her how it felt to be with someone in the same situation."

"I'm not with you."

"Do you want to be?" I didn't mean to voice that question, but it explodes out of my mouth before I can take it back.

"What I want is to be with the Alex Vause who has nothing to do with drugs, whether that's on this side of the law or the other," she admits in a frustrated tone.

"That Alex doesn't exist." I shake my head in a little burst. "I know what I do is dangerous, and it might freak you out, but I'm finally doing something good with my life. I won't fuck that up."

She takes a couple of deep breaths.

I can't let this opportunity pass, so I lift her chin with two fingers. "I've never stopped caring about you, Piper. I need you to know that. Everything I've done that's good in the world is for you—because of you."

As the sun sets, she leans her forehead against mine, and we both close our eyes. A feeling of euphoria rushes through my body, and I don't want this moment to end. Finally, Piper pulls back, letting me go as she faces the Western sky.

Even though I want to take things further, I don't push it. "Please reach out to Mia."

Piper doesn't acknowledge my request; instead, she watches the sun set behind a row of buildings. I stand next to her, shoulders barely touching.

"Sunsets never get old, do they?" she whispers.

I shake my head. "No."

She lets out a long breath, then takes a step away from the ledge. "I should probably go back down."

"And I need to take off." I follow her back downstairs. "I finally got assigned to another case."

"Congratulations." She stops short. "Is that what I should say?"

I smile. "It'll do."

We reach the second floor and stop in front of the open door.

"I hope we can see each other again soon."

"Maybe." Piper reaches to hug me, and if I just turn a little to the right, my lips would touch hers. I don't—I just hold her in my arms for as long as she'll let me.