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Amanda teetered at the top of a not-quite-tall-enough ladder. She reached for the last of the ornaments left at the top of Serafina and Dominick Sr.’s gigantic Christmas tree; they were ‘un-decorating’ that afternoon. Amanda was plucking off all of the decorations while Serafina delicately wrapped them up and organized them in their storage boxes. Dominick Sr. disappeared with Billie and Jesse the moment he learned what was on the agenda for the day: they were ice skating in the neighborhood center until dinner was ready. Sonny had work to do, so he was sequestered in the dining room; every now and then Amanda could hear him talking to himself or his laptop.
“Be careful!” Serafina called up to Amanda anxiously. “Your knee, your stomach – ah – Dominick, get in here!”
Back-up was unnecessary: Amanda had a bobble in each hand and the tree was totally bare. Slowly, she made her way back down the rickety wooden steps to the carpeted floor.
“What?” Sonny appeared from the dining room, very obviously chewing on something. He rolled his eyes and gave a dismissive wave of his hand when he surveyed the scene, unimpressed. “Ah, she’s fine, she’s done a lot more dangerous stuff than climb a ladder.”
“See what happens after you get married?” Serafina scoffed. “They stop puttin’ in any effort.”
Amanda carefully handed the ornaments to Serafina so she could wrap them up and place them in their designated container. She smiled knowingly at her mother-in-law, “Sonny does a lot of stuff, don’t worry.”
Serafina’s gaze narrowed on Sonny, suspicious. “Stop eating,” she scolded him, “there’s gonna be nothing left by the time your father gets home with the girls.”
Sonny put both of his hands up in surrender as he dropped down onto the couch. “I just had one meatball, I swear.”
“Uh huh.” She began to wrap up one of the ornaments in layers of tissue paper. “Amanda, grab more tape for me in the kitchen, in the drawer by the sink, will you? And make sure my son didn’t leave the pot on the stove uncovered.”
With a smirk in Sonny’s direction, Amanda slipped out of the room and headed to the kitchen as instructed. She resisted the urge to dip a spoon into the simmering pot of red sauce and meatballs she knew Sonny had already dove into - somehow she had a feeling Serafina would know if she did. Instead, she plucked the tape from the drawer and headed right back to the living room, through the adjacent dining room.
“So… you’re meeting Billie’s father next week?” Amanda heard Serafina ask Sonny. She immediately stopped walking and hovered in the dining room doorway to listen. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t join in on the conversation - it was about her family, after all - maybe because there was still a small piece of Amanda that was worried about what Serafina thought of her.
“Mm.” Sonny stretched his arms along the back of the couch and thrummed his fingers against the top of a cushion.
“How do you think that’s going to go?”
“I’m just hopin’ it’ll be over quickly and he doesn’t have much to say.”
Serafina let out a dry laugh. “Well, I think he’s going to have something to say, after what he pulled on Christmas.”
Amanda’s stomach clenched.
“What we’re after isn’t gonna change,” Sonny responded curtly.
“I think you’re going to need a lawyer,” his mother challenged him. “He’s a guy with a lot of money with a big reputation. You don’t know what he’s got up his sleeve.”
“I am a lawyer. And we’re handling it, ma.”
“I meant somebody who specializes in this stuff. Your father and I will do whatever we can to help you if you-“
“I said we’re handling it.” The gruffness in Sonny’s voice surprised Amanda; she held her breath for his mother’s reaction.
Serafina paused and stood in silence for a moment; maybe she was taken aback by Sonny’s tone, too. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at her son, frowning. “I just don’t want to see you heart-broken, Sonny,” she told him quietly, almost in a whisper. “I couldn’t stand it, not when it comes to those girls.”
The discomfort too much for Amanda to bear, she re-entered the room, making sure to step on the squeakiest floor boards so Sonny and his mother knew she was there. They both looked over at her, but neither of them said anything. Wordlessly, she set the tape on the coffee table.
“I’m gonna get some air,” Sonny announced, rising to his feet and disappearing from the room before Amanda or Serafina could respond.
Serafina opened her mouth to speak, appearing confused, but Amanda shook her head. “Let me…” She moved to leave, too, fingertips grazing Serafina’s arm as she headed for the back door.
Amanda found Sonny standing out in the yard, hands shoved in the front pockets of his jeans. The toe of his old Converse was nudging at a clump of gray-green grass; his father’s precious lawn was struggling to survive the on-again off-again cold.
“Hey.” She announced her presence as she closed the sliding door behind herself, careful not to get fingerprints on the spotless glass. She crossed her arms over her chest loosely to brace herself against the cool air, glad for the yellow sweatshirt she was wearing.
“It’s so hot in there,” Sonny explained, casting a glance at her over his shoulder. “I don’t know why she insists on keepin’ it like, eighty degrees around the clock. The two of you, always cold…”
“Mm.” She knew it wasn’t about the temperature of his parents’ house (although she did appreciate the warmth). She stood by his side. “I was uh, listening to your conversation,” she admitted flatly, not bothering to feign ignorance.
He gave her a pointed look. “And you wonder where Jesse gets it from?”
Amanda chewed her thumbnail. “Sorry,” she muttered, “couldn’t help it.”
After a beat of silence, Sonny mumbled, “something about the way she was talkin’ about it just got under my skin, is all.”
Amanda set a hand on his back, the muscles there radiating heat through the flannel button-up he had layered over a t-shirt. Her palm made slow circles against the soft fabric. “Maybe she’s been askin’ my mother for tips.”
Sonny looked over at her as a lopsided grin slowly formed on his face. “Yeah, maybe.” He hooked his arm around her shoulders and tugged her into his side.
She wrapped both of her arms around his torso and gazed up at him. “Y'wanna talk about it?”
He shook his head. “I don’t want you wastin’ any mental energy on this right now.”
Amanda nodded. “You always like reminding me that we’re partners.” She gave his upper body a squeeze with her arms for emphasis. “Now I’m reminding you.”
The smile flickered across his mouth again. “I hear ya.”
“We’re back!” Jesse’s voice rang loud and clear from the driveway at the side of the house, followed by an array of footsteps and the sound of the front door creaking open and slamming shut.
Sonny dropped a kiss onto the crown of her head. “Let’s go back inside.”
xxx
Amanda sat at the kitchen table, knees tucked beneath her chin, tired eyes focused on her glowing laptop screen. She hadn’t moved for hours, but tomorrow was her first day at Fordham, and she wanted to make sure she was prepared. Over and over, she clicked back and forth between documents: PowerPoint presentations, syllabi, meeting schedules, calendars. She edited, deleted, highlighted, double-, triple-, quadruple-checked everything. These little gestures gave her some semblance of control; until that evening she hadn’t realized how anxious she was really feeling about the change.
“You comin’ to bed?” She heard Sonny’s voice from across the room: he was lurking the hallway, dressed in a navy blue NYPD t-shirt and gray sweatpants, eyeing her expectantly.
Amanda gave him a non-committal wave. “I’m just reviewing this stuff for tomorrow.”
“I got news for you: it is tomorrow. It’s twelve-fifteen,” he informed her. “And you’ve been ‘reviewing’ for three hours.”
“Just a little-“
“C’mon,” he urged her, shaking his head and beckoning her toward the bedroom.
She sighed. She had to be up at five-thirty: that would give her enough time to get herself and both girls ready in time for Sienna to swoop in and take over. Sonny would help, too, but he also had a morning of arraignments to get to. She sure as hell wasn’t going to be late for her first day at Fordham; she no longer had SVU’s familiarity to fall back on. Everything about what she was walking into tomorrow was foreign.
Like a petulant child, Amanda dragged herself into the bedroom with a groan. “I’m not ready, Sonny. I’m not feeling very… relaxed,” she pouted, arms crossed over her chest as she looked at their bed. She lifted a hand and began to chew on her thumbnail, head spinning with mounting worry. Heat was creeping up her neck into her face; the more she told herself to calm down, the faster her heart seemed to pound against her ribcage. She remembered that she had begged Sonny to turn the thermostat up in the bedroom – now she felt like the temperature was suffocating.
“Everything’s gonna be fine.”
Annoyance rippled through her. “Stop saying that,” she snapped. She was envious that he got to return to a place where he was the expert, surrounded by people and protocols he knew. Even when confronted with the unexpected, he would still be able to navigate the environment with relative ease.
He raised his eyebrows and matched her stance, arms crossed over his chest. “Okay, everything’s gonna be terrible.”
Amanda dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand, partly out of irritation, partly to distract herself from her own distress. Easy for you to say. I don’t know what to expect. I don’t know what’s going to happen. Her nails bit harder into her flesh. She was staring icily at Sonny, but the room was getting hazy. It was almost as if there was a thick piece of frosted glass separating them, keeping her nicely contained but making it harder for her to see clearly. She closed her eyes and shook her head. What if I’m not prepared? What if it all goes to hell? Something could just come out of nowhere… It always came back to that, fearing what she didn’t know, what could get to her – what had gotten to her – because she was one step behind…
“Amanda?”
She heard Sonny’s gentle voice, but she was surprised to find him standing directly in front of her, worry etched into his features. Her hand ached: her knuckles were white and red from how tightly her fingers were clenched and there were divots in her palms from her nails. She felt his hands rest tentatively on her upper arms.
“Hey, come back to me,” he coaxed her.
“Sorry, I… didn’t mean to yell at you,” Amanda heard herself say softly.
Sonny shook his head. “I’m sorry I made a joke.” He squeezed her arms. “You alright?”
She lifted a hand and rubbed absently at her forehead. Her eyes darted to a space over Sonny’s shoulder, to the perpetually open closet door and the very top shelf where her gun safe used to be. “We gotta turn the thermostat down.”
X
Amanda wasn’t sure what time she fell asleep, but she woke up to the sensation of Sonny’s hand creeping over her hip at 4:30 am. Even if they drifted away from one another across the mattress in the night, some part of him always found its way back to her eventually – an arm slung across her torso, an ankle hooked into hers, his face buried into the crook of her neck. Sonny was the most tactile person she had ever known, even when he was semi-conscious. Amanda could tell he was awake, though, just by the adept way his fingers slid from the bony ridge to settle on her abdomen where he sometimes liked to trace the jagged line of her scar. It didn’t bother her – she liked it, actually, because it made an anticipatory little shiver run down her spine that was the exact opposite of all the feelings the original wound elicited. Then she heard Sonny mumble into her hair, you okay?, and Amanda remembered how the previous night she had went to bed shrugging him off with a disingenuous I’m fine that he had probably been too tired to challenge.
She didn’t reply to his question. Not because she didn’t have an answer, but because this time was precious: awake, alone, limbs tangled. Instead she whispered, I want you, and soon their mouths were meeting and all of their clothing was shed and she was straddling him, their bodies joined. She established her own rhythm with the roll of her hips and the arch of her back. It was slow at first - he let her take control, get what she wanted - until his hands gripped her hips insistently and he started meeting her thrusts with urgency and they found themselves in a frantic race toward climax. It had to be quiet, given the time of day and the two children asleep down the hall, but Amanda found excitement in the way Sonny’s fingers anchored tightly in her hair so he could whisper hotly in her ear things nobody but she knew he would ever say out loud.
When they were spent, Sonny’s back slumped against a crumpled pile of pillows and Amanda remained atop him, everything warm and pulsating. After a few breathless moments, Sonny slowly leaned forward again and kissed her shoulder - another place that was pocked with scar tissue - then the side of her neck and her jaw, ending at her lips. Both sets of his fingers carded through her damp hair, scraping it away from her flushed face so when their mouths separated, she could see him properly. Her hands rested against his chest; she could feel his heart pounding beneath one of her palms.
“Gotta get the girls up soon,” Sonny murmured, toying with one of her blonde tresses and pushing it behind her shoulder.
Amanda closed her eyes. She felt Sonny’s hands drift to her chest, splaying over her breasts, thumbs ghosting over her nipples in a way that made her lean instinctively toward his touch. “I wish I could stay here.”
He gave a low grunt of agreement. “I’d love to spend all day inside ya.”
A smile played at her lips. “But…” she sighed, eyes fluttering open.
“But, we gotta go to work,” Sonny finished her sentence with a lazy grin.
Her teeth sunk into her lower lip, swollen from the intensity of their kisses just moments earlier. Silence hung between them, but it was loaded, filled with what was left unsaid last night. His blue eyes were on hers, and she felt like he was waiting for her; sometimes she wondered if he could actually see inside of her head.
“I spent all these years squirrelin’ around in people’s heads but, what if it isn’t enough?” Amanda finally admitted.
Het let out a hum of understanding. “They might figure out they’ve made a big mistake, hiring you.”
She frowned. She knew he was challenging her, poking at her anxieties as a way to get her to see they were unfounded, but it was hard to hear those words coming from his mouth. “You have to admit that I’m taking a huge risk.”
“You’ve been takin’ risks every day of your life, Amanda. Insane risks. Some risks that I - somebody who did your job - thought were crazy,” he reminded her with a quiet laugh. He set his hands on her thighs and soothed his palms up and down the taut muscles there. “Just think of it that way.”
X
“Any other questions?”
Amanda looked out at the classroom she had just lectured and took questions from for the past two and a half hours. She was buzzing with adrenaline. One part of her couldn’t believe she had made it through her very first day as a professor at Fordham University, the other part was patting herself on her back, singing her own praises, because of course she could do it. She hadn’t known what to expect from the students, but what she found was that they seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say. They were engaged, eager, a lot of them deeply serious about their education. It was profoundly different than what she could remember about her her personal undergraduate experience, where people were dragging themselves to class hungover or still drunk, or sleeping on their desks through out the lecture. Then again, Fordham law students were paying almost seventy thousand dollars a year for the privilege of learning from her and her colleagues (which Amanda tried not to think about too deeply).
“So, you’re not a lawyer?”
A male voice rung out from the back of the room. Amanda narrowed her eyes on the person who asked the question: he was one of the younger students in the class, with purposefully messy brunette hair and boyish pink cheeks. His sneakered feet were propped up on the chair in front of him, which for some reason, irked her.
“Definitely not.” She leaned against the front of her desk.
He appeared skeptical. “But you know the law?”
Amanda quirked an eyebrow. “I’ve been a detective for the majority of my adult life, so I’d say I’m well-acquainted with it.”
“Yeah, but that’s different. This is a law class.”
A few people in the rows in front of him craned their neck around to get a look at who was speaking.
She bit down on her tongue, forcing herself to take moment before responding. Her pulse had quickened, anxious about her credibility being challenged, but she was also annoyed - who was this twenty-something-year-old prick who was trying to make her seem unqualified? For a split-second she longed for her gun and her badge, for the ability to loom over him in the confines of a bleak interview room, but then she remembered her power wasn’t limited to her role as a detective. Her power was in her experience - and that was transferable to this place.
Amanda made sure her eyes made direct contact with the student. “This class is about deviant human sexuality. It’s about the perspectives of psychology behind sexually motivated crimes. It’s the ‘why’ behind the behaviors y’all may be putting on trial someday. We’re actually not going to be talking very much about the law here.” She let a little smile form on her lips. “If that disappoints you, you might wanna drop this course now. There’s a waitlist, so I’m sure somebody’ll be thrilled you bailed.”
He shook his head quickly, face flushed. “Nah, nah. I’m good.”
“Good.” She pushed herself off of her desk with the heels of her palms, grin widening. “Maybe later tonight you can review the course descriptions of all the other classes you’re in this semester, make sure you know what you’re in for.” You pompous asshole.
There were rumblings of chatter and laughter in response, which was satisfying enough for Amanda. She was able to end the class almost on-time, delivering all of the information she was supposed to, and when the room was empty of students she felt like she had just run a marathon. With her big purse over her shoulder and her laptop held close to her chest, Amanda made her way down the hallway with plans to walk across campus to her new office.
“Excuse me? Excuse me, professor? Professor?”
It took Amanda a minute to realize that someone was calling after her - that she was ‘professor.’ She stopped abruptly and turned around to see a young woman who had just been in her lecture scurrying after her; she skidded to a halt when she realized Amanda had finally heard her.
“Hi, I’m sorry, I - I forgot that was me,” Amanda admitted, embarrassed. Frazzled, she brushed hair away from her eyes with the back of her hand and tried to regain her composure. “How can I help you?”
“I just wanted to say, well, hi - hi, my name’s Lindsay, Lindsay Allen, I’m sure you have more than one Lindsay,” the woman introduced herself breathlessly. “I’m really grateful to be taking your class,” she grinned, then her smile faltered slightly. She lowered her voice as she continued, “I, um, I survived a sexual assault as a freshman college - six years ago - and this stuff’s really important to me.”
Amanda felt her heart clench in her chest, completely surprised by both Lindsay’s gratitude and her disclosure. In that moment, she remembered why she loved the work that she did. It looked different now, she realized, but it was there, very much a part of her. She reached out and gently touched Lindsay’s upper arm. “I’m so sorry that happened to you,” she told her quietly, then offered her a smile, “and I’m really glad you’re here.”
X
Amanda surveyed her new office. It was less grand than what some of the other faculty had, but she had never had her own space before – just a desk crammed into a loud bullpen in a precinct – so it felt like a luxury. It was so oddly quiet without phones ringing and people arguing and the rattling of handcuffs and locker doors. For a moment, Amanda ached for all of it, but then she remembered that shortly she was going to pick up Jesse and Billie from their after-school programs – something she had never been able to do reliably – and a rush of happiness erased any lingering grief.
She had a window that overlooked the Lincoln Center campus, which was now growing dark as afternoon bled into evening. She peered out of it curiously, then turned back to her desk: it was piled with evidence boxes. She had used them to transport books and paperwork and whatever else she needed to bring in. She had a bookshelf lining one wall and had hopes of making it look aesthetically pleasing; it was glaringly apparent that while many of her colleagues had multiple degrees to display, she just had one. With a sigh, she pulled off the top of one box and began to empty its contents. Sonny would be grateful he wouldn’t be stubbing his toe on her textbooks anymore, she figured.
There was a knock on her door, which surprised her. It could have been anybody, which made her nervous given the embarrassing state of her office, but even so she called, “come in!”
When the door swung open, Grace Muncy stood in the threshold, grinning impishly in a hoodie and jeans with a backpack slung over her shoulder. “I’m here for office hours.”
Amanda’s eyes widened, shocked at the sight of the young detective in her new space. “Hey!” She scurried out from behind her desk. “What are you doing here? Miss me already?”
“Nah,” she grinned, then reached into her backpack to reveal a taxidermy chipmunk encased in glass: “I just wanted to drop something off. You forgot somebody.”
“My chipmunk!” Amanda exclaimed with glee, taking the chipmunk from her and looking down at it lovingly.
Muncy appeared pleased with herself. “Yeah.”
“Thank you, I was wondering where he went.” Amanda happily set the chipmunk on her messy desk; she was glad he was back. After a moment more of admiring the creature, she lifted her eyes to meet Muncy’s again. “How are things goin’ over there? You still liking it?”
She hiked her backpack up over her shoulder again. “Yeah, it’s going good.” She looked sheepish. “I think I’ve moved past my little court fiasco.”
“Good, I’m glad to hear that.”
“I also had another reason for coming by,” Muncy confessed. “Benson suggested I – well, if it’s not gonna be weird, or an inconvenience – maybe some time, if you’re allowed, I could maybe sit in on one of your lectures? I’m not sure if she’s implying that I don’t know enough or-“
“Muncy, she’s not implying anything,” Amanda interrupted her. “She is trying to give you a leg up, an opportunity to be better. Take it.”
Muncy looked relieved. “Yeah, yeah. Okay,” she exhaled with a nod. “So, it’s cool with you?”
There was a warmth creeping through Amanda’s chest: Liv had sent her here, to her, to learn. “I’ll text you my class schedule.”
X
Jesse and Billie sat on their parents’ bed, both fresh out of their evening baths and in pajamas. Each of them had requested that Amanda French braid their wet hair so in the morning they would wake up with pronounced waves – or, more precisely, Billie had gotten the idea from Jesse, who had heard about it from a classmate. The two girls sat side-by-side, their legs dangling off the end of the mattress, and Amanda knelt behind them with a brush in hand. Billie’s hair was done; it was shorter and faster to complete. Now Amanda was gingerly picking at the knots in Jesse’s long tresses, the task made more complicated by the way the seven-year-old kept flailing around as she spoke.
“Are you gonna pick us up from school tomorrow?” Jesse wondered.
“Mhm,” Amanda nodded. “I bet I’ll pick you up most of the time.”
“Yeah!” both girls cheered in unison, then Jesse suddenly grunted ow! at Amanda’s attempt to part her hair.
Amanda grinned, then poked Jesse’s back playfully with the hairbrush she was wielding. “The more you wiggle, the more this is gonna hurt.”
“I’m not wigglin’,” Jesse grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest with a huff.
“You are, you’re like a little worm.”
“I am not!”
Putting aside the brush, Amanda got to work on one side of Jesse’s head, using practiced fingers to create a long plait that started at the top of her forehead and ended at the middle of her back. As she went through the motions on the other side, she was suddenly reminded of being a teenager and doing the very same thing for Kim. Kim would always close her eyes while Amanda wove the braids; anybody playing with her hair always relaxed her. It was a rare fond memory Amanda had from adolescence; it made her smile that she could do the same thing for her children. Briefly, she wondered if present-day Kim was doing okay.
Billie got up from the bed and stood in front of the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. She twisted herself around one way, then the other, to try to admire the back of her head. She reached up and poked at the braids laying against her scalp. “My hair looks so pretty, mommy.”
“They look beautiful on you, but don’t touch them too much, they’ll get frizzy,” Amanda cautioned.
Billie’s eyes widened and she nodded solemnly, as if frizz was the worst consequence the world. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it as her face lit up. “Dad’s home!” she yelled before bolting from the room.
Jesse was right behind her, jumping from the bed right as Amanda tied the elastic at the end of her second braid. Amanda was suddenly left alone in her bedroom, abandoned for the person both Jesse and Billie looked forward to returning every single night: dad. It didn’t make her jealous - it made her grateful. Smiling to herself, she pulled herself off the bed as she returned the brush and detangling spray to its rightful place, then straightened up the jewelry and shoes the girls had rummaged through in the course of the evening, all while listening to them greet Sonny at the other side of the apartment.
“Whoa, I didn’t know we had a coupla supermodels livin’ here!” Amanda heard Sonny exclaim. “Look at that hair.”
“Mommy did it!” Billie told him, tripping over her words in her excitement, “When we wake up and take them out, it’s gonna be extra pretty.”
“You’re extra pretty already,” he said. “Where is mommy?”
Amanda entered the living room to see both girls hovering at Sonny’s feet. He was loosening his tie with one hand, but had a bouquet of lush roses in another. Her eyes widened at the sight; her heart skipped in her chest. “Right here.”
“There she is,” he beamed. He moved toward her and dipped his head to kiss her. “My wife, the professor.” He nudged the bouquet between them when they separated. “These are for you.”
“Sonny, these are gorgeous,” she breathed, looking down at the flowers as she took them in her hand. She tilted her chin up to give him another kiss through her wide smile. “Thank you.”
“Can I see?” Jesse asked, appearing at Amanda’s hip.
Amanda held the roses at Jesse’s level; Jesse admired them and gently prodded one of the soft petals with her fingers. “We’ve gotta put them in water, so they last a little while and we can keep lookin' at them,” Amanda explained.
“How was it? Tell me all about it,” Sonny asked her eagerly. He tossed his brief case onto the coffee table, shrugged off his suit jacket, then sat down on the couch. Billie immediately crawled up next to him.
“You were right: it was great,” Amanda admitted with a sheepish smile as she moved into the kitchen to retrieve a vase. Jesse followed her to be a part of the process. “Honestly, it all went really smoothly. I mean, there was one jack - idiot - who wanted to be a know-it-all, but I handled him.”
“Of course you did. One pretentious law school punk is nothin’ compared to what you’ve put up with,” he told her, appearing proud.
She felt herself blushing; Sonny’s praise still mattered the most to her. “Yeah. Yeah, I have to like, get a flow going, but I think it’s gonna work out okay.” She let Jesse stand on the step-stool to fill the vase with water at the sink while she carefully unwrapped the bouquet at the island. “And afterwards, one of the girls came up to me and told me she was glad to be there, because she was… personally impacted by the subject.” She met Sonny’s eyes deliberately as she spoke, hoping he got the hint - even with Billie crawling all over him.
Sonny carefully maneuvered Billie from standing on his lap to sitting, craning his neck around the little girl so he could meet Amanda’s gaze. “Maybe that’s a sign.”
She stopped fiddling with the flowers. “What d’you mean?”
“That you’re where you’re supposed to be now.”
xxx
Amanda clinked her glass of champagne gently against Sonny’s. Friday had come quickly, surprisingly, and she was feeling lighter. She had done it - survived her first days in a brand new world, in a brand new profession - and felt energized instead of frightened by all of the possibilities ahead of her. Now that she was on the other side of it all, she supposed she had known all along that she was capable of beginning again. How many times in her life had she had to pick herself up and start anew? Years ago, she clung to vices and utilized the skill of compartmentalization to survive; now she was so much better equipped. Now, Amanda could actually enjoy her life as it was.
Sonny’s parents had Jesse and Billie until Sunday. There was a winter fair at St. Paul’s church that Serafina was desperate to take them to and Amanda was grateful for the opportunity to recharge without little feet trampling beneath her. Once her work day was done, Sonny had promised her whatever she wanted for dinner, so she had requested something he had made her when they had first starting really seeing each other (which Amanda very precisely defined as sleeping together): spaghetti al limone, which was carbohydrates drenched with butter and cheese and the perfect zest of citrus. They could have gone out - maybe they would tomorrow - but as she sat perched at the island, her glass hovering in the air next to Sonny’s, Amanda was content.
“To successfully finishin’ your first week as a professor,” he toasted her.
Amanda’s grin widened. “To… me,” she added giddily.
His free hand grasped the side of her face to pull her in for a kiss. “To you.”
She returned the kiss once, twice, then pulled away only so she could take a sip of the bubbling liquid in her glass. She watched as Sonny took a drink of his own champagne, then he moved back to the other side of the island to resume chopping garlic. “You didn’t tell me about your day.”
Sonny shrugged. He didn’t look up from his chopping. “It was… fine.”
Her brow furrowed. “‘Fine?’” She took another sip of her drink.
“Yeah.” His knife scraped expertly across the wooden cutting board, neatly separating minced garlic and chives, before turning his back on her to arrange pots and pans on the stove.
She studied the back of him: he seemed very committed to not looking at her, fiddling with the knobs for the burners, rearranging the pan, then the pot of water… “That’s it?” she prodded him, eyes narrowed on the back of his head.
“I mean, I just, I’d rather hear about your day-“
“Carisi,” Amanda interrupted him hastily, now totally convinced that his day was anything but fine.
“Rollins,” Sonny sighed heavily as he faced her again, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. He was grimacing, like whatever was on his mind pained him.
Her pulse began to quicken. “What is it? What’s the matter?”
“I don’t wanna get you involved, but I don’t wanna keep it from you either-“
“What the hell, Sonny? You can’t just say something like that and not tell me,” she sputtered, eyes wide with outrage. Her mind began to reel with potential possibilities: was somebody sick? Was he getting fired? Transferred? Did somebody die?
Sonny groaned, rolling his head back in obvious frustration before straightening up again to look at her. He was quiet for another tortuous moment before finally admitting: “there’s a SVU thing goin’ on. Something happened to Liv.”
This, Amanda hadn’t anticipated. She jumped off of her stool to stand in front of Sonny. “What? What happened? Is she okay?”
“She was attacked outside her building when she was with Noah,” he explained, voice low and level. He added quickly, “she’s okay - Noah’s okay - Liv’s got a pretty nasty shiner. I don’t know everything, I didn’t talk to her, but I do know it was BX9-“
“Oh my God. What the fuck, Sonny?” she exclaimed, the blood in her veins running cold as she absorbed the information he had just given her. “You’re just telling me this now? Why didn’t anybody call me? Why-“
He took a tentative step closer to her. “Amanda, you don’t work there anymore-“
“Where is Noah?” she demanded. “He should stay here-“
“He’s already outta the city, with his half-brother.”
Her mouth hung open, momentarily stunned into silence. “You’ve gotta be joking me,” she laughed crassly when she found her voice again. She dragged her hands through her hair before letting them fall uselessly against her sides again. “Those people, Liv can’t trust those people!”
“C’mon, you don’t know that,” Sonny challenged her gently. “They seem like good people-“
“She barely knows them! What about us, what about me?” she cried, jabbing emphatically at her sternum with a finger. “I’ve spent twelve years of my life with her!”
Her words reverberated off the walls of their tiny space; she heard Frannie’s collar jingle, indicating that she had been loud enough to get the animal to stir from her spot curled up on the couch. Sonny was looking at her with sadness in his eyes and that only made hurt - lingering beneath her anger - flare up in her chest again. She wasn’t sure where to direct these feelings: at Sonny, who was planning to hide all of this from her? At her old squad, who hadn’t let her know when it happened? At Liv, who hadn’t reached out to her as a friend? At herself, for choosing a life outside of SVU?
“‘Manda,” Sonny whispered, a hand reaching out to rest on her elbow. “I know this is hard.”
Her immediate impulse was to shout at him no you don’t! and stamp her foot like a child. Instead, there were hot tears stinging her eyes and her lower lip was quivering. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest and blinked up at the ceiling, trying to keep from crying. Of course Sonny knew what it felt like: he had left SVU for the DA’s office. He had had to watch a lot of things from the sidelines - terrifying things, many of them involving her. Amanda supposed she never truly understood how difficult that was - not until this moment, when she felt left out and helpless. Still, she thought she and Liv had parted on good terms. She thought Liv supported her. She thought Liv knew she cared about her.
She straightened up again, using a knuckle to flick away a tear that had escaped the corner of her eye. “Do you think she resents me for leaving?”
Sonny shook his head. “No-“
“I know loss is hard for her. I get it. I get it better than anybody,” she continued anxiously, “but we sorted it out, we talked-“
“Amanda.” His tone was stern; it was the voice he used when he demanded all of somebody’s attention. His eyes were fixated on hers. “You left SVU because you wanted peace. You didn’t wanna be in the middle of this stuff every day.”
“I just, I thought we were friends.” It sounded pathetic, as if she was a little kid who hadn’t been invited to play a game instead of a grown woman attempting to navigate adult life.
Sonny visibly softened. The hand lingering at her elbow tugged her closer and she let him, moving so her cheek could rest against his chest. “So maybe she is grievin’ a little bit, on top of tryin’ to sort all of this out,” he reasoned, arms encircling her. “Give her a little time.”
Amanda nodded against his torso. Her hands were curled up by her face - selfishly, she just wanted to be hugged. Sonny was good at that, his long limbs easily encompassed her petite frame.
“I wasn’t tryin’ to keep this from you, I’m tryin’ to figure this out too… it’s just, it was your first week at your new job and…”
She nodded again; she believed him. Still, Amanda had spent so many years keeping people at a distance, she never really considered how badly it felt to exist on the other side, to be shut out - until now.