Chapter Text
Amanda had expected to feel grief, of course.
Between the first mini stroke and the second major one, talk of power of attorney and a living will and DNR, and witnessing her larger-than-life father look smaller than she’s ever seen him on hospital beds in Atlanta and New York, reminders of his mortality have been inescapable the past couple of weeks.
The doctors have since assured her Jim’s condition was stable, that he was on the road to recovery. And yet here she was, staring up at her bedroom ceiling, sleep proving elusive as her mind raced, her stomach knotted, and her heart constricted painfully in her chest.
She was grieving, and it wasn’t over nearly losing her father, but for losing Sonny.
She wasn’t stupid. She was a detective, and a damn good one. She knew what he was trying to tell her back in his office, had a feeling from the way he had checked his watch and ducked his head to hide the pink in his cheeks as he slipped on his coat.
She was perceptive, knew to put two and two together. Fin, who had all the subtlety of an elephant, had texted her while she was away, asking if Carisi had ever mentioned a “friend” named Nicole to her. And earlier tonight, at the hospital, she hadn’t been trying to eavesdrop, promise—with hardly anyone around, it had been easy to catch the “Nicole” he had huffed out into his phone before apologizing and asking for a raincheck.
She had tried to force a confession, offering him an out if he had other plans, even asking point-blank what he’d wanted to tell her before he had been interrupted by Jim’s doctor calling, but both times, he hadn’t taken the bait.
The evidence was pretty overwhelming. Sonny Carisi was seeing someone—someone else whose name was Nicole and not Amanda.
She sucked in a shuddering breath, swiped carelessly at the tears that had leaked out of her eyes and run into her ears before soaking into her pillow.
A large part of her felt like there must be some mistake. Because there was evidence of that, too: A flickering look of longing she had caught in her periphery after her father had thought they were dating. The reassuring rasp of “I’m here, I’m here s’long as you need me.” The way their laughter had come so easy in a situation that was about as hard as it got. The warmth of his hand on hers, his grip gentle but sure. How his eyes had gone from steely with pride to soft with amusement upon hearing how she had gotten her wicked stepmother to get the hell out.
Maybe, back in his office, he’d actually been meaning to tell her he’s discovered a new go-to Chinese restaurant since their favorite one shuttered due to COVID, or that he had heard about something fun they could do with the girls on the weekend. Maybe Fin’s text hadn’t needed quotation marks around “friend,” because Nicole was just a friend, a classmate from Fordham or someone he met back when he had been assigned to another precinct. Maybe Liv’s look of sympathy had nothing to do with Carisi having moved on and everything to do with having to care for a sick parent who had never done the same for her. Maybe Kat giving Carisi the cold shoulder had been because the young detective had once again been unable to see past his lawyer shoes and recognize the man whose steady moral compass had been Amanda’s North Star for so long.
Maybe he is in love with her, as much as she was realizing she is with him. Maybe this was their moment, finally, and they have a shot at being happy, together.
Or maybe she has to learn that this thing between them was dead, well before it had ever had a chance to thrive.