You gingerly dabbed concealer on your cheekbone, tapping lightly to spread it evenly without making it look cakey.  Backing away from the mirror, you turned your face this way and that, looking at yourself from every angle to ensure that your makeup was flawless.  Oliver was being honoured at a Very Important work gala, and you couldn’t look anything less than your best.  

He popped his head in the bathroom as you moved on to blending everything with your cushion, giving you a once-over as you worked.  “That dress is a bit revealing for a work dinner, isn’t it?” he asked.

“You picked it out,” you murmured, dabbing makeup on your chin.

“I know, but that was months ago, when it was still warm outside.  Why don’t you wear a jacket, to cover your shoulders, so that you don’t catch cold?

“Alright,” you conceded.  

“The navy blue silk bolero I bought you would match your dress pretty perfectly, don’t you think?”

You nodded, moving on to pile your hair on top of your head.

Oliver looked at you from behind, then lifted his hands to gently take yours, bringing them down.  “You should wear your hair down tonight.  You always look especially enchanting when your hair frames your face.”

“Do you think so?” you asked mildly.  “Alright.  I will.”

“That’s my girl!” he smiled.  “Would you like for me to grab your jacket for you?”

“I can manage,” you averred sweetly.  Oliver always loved it when you spoke sweetly.  He said that your voice was made to be sweet, and soft.  Gentle, and mild.

“Okay.  Hey, have you seen my cuff-links?”

“Which ones?”

“The onyx?”

You shook your head.  “Didn’t you let your friend borrow those for his brother’s graduation party?

He frowned.  “You’re right.  He still hasn’t returned them.  I’ll have to track him down and make them give them back.”

Finishing your makeup, you turned to him, and laid a calming hand on his shoulder.  “Why don’t you wear another pair?”

“Those are the ones that go with this suit.”  Oliver was very particular about what he wore.  

Stifling a sigh, you said, “We have time.  We can stop by a store on the way.”

Nodding, he leaned over to give you a chaste kiss on the forehead.  “You always know just how to calm me down.  I’ll just grab my speech, and then we’ll be ready to go.

You nodded, watching him head toward his office.  Walking over to your closet, you pulled out the navy bolero, swirling it around and slipping your arms inside. Pulling it over your shoulders and adjusting it, you turned to the full length mirror in the corner, turning this way and that, so that you could assess yourself from every angle.  Satisfied, you walked to the door, and turned out the light.

Oliver had been smart to suggest the jacket.  It covered the bruises perfectly.

***

Unfortunately, most of the jewelry shops were closed.  You could sense Oliver becoming increasingly agitated as you continued to drive past shops with “Closed” signs hanging in the doorways.  Thinking fast, you said, “There’s that little antique shop at the corner; should we check in there?”

Nodding brusquely, he pulled over.  Handing you his wallet, he gestured for you to go inside.  “I have to make a quick phone call; would you mind?”

“Of course not, you murmured.  Once inside, you made a beeline for the counter.

“May I help you?” the kindly old clerk asked.  

“Do you carry cuff-links?’

“We certainly do!”  He gestured toward the glass case.  “All on the top row; we don’t have too many pairs, but the ones that we do are all fine.”

You glanced over them, trying to decide what Oliver would like best, when your gaze seemed to be drawn to a silver-rimmed onyx pair in the corner.  For the first time all day, you smiled.  

***

The cuff-links lay warm and heavy in your palm as you trotted back to the car.  Oliver detested being late.  It was one of his virtues.  After opening your door, and sliding inside, you held them out to him.

“They didn’t have a box?” he inquired, eyeing them in slight distaste.  Oliver was decidedly fastidious.  

You shook your head.  “I told them to forego it. I didn’t want to waste any more of your time.”

Mollified, he took them, and quickly affixed them to his cuffs.  “Well…at least they match my suit.”

Nodding, you glanced over his black suit and shirt, with silver tie. “You look perfect.”

He smiled, pleased.  Starting the vehicle, he maneuvered back into the street, filling the car with the sound of his jaunty whistle.

***

The night was long and tiring, but you did your best to sparkle, for Oliver’s sake.  You thought that you were doing well, but during dinner, he leaned over, his arm on the back of your seat, his mouth close to your ear.  “Talk less.  Smile more.  No one here really cares about your thoughts on the THAAD impasse; they’re just being polite.  Not everything has to be about you, do you understand?”

To anyone looking at the two of you, it would have seemed as if he were whispering the softest sweetness into your ear.

Wordlessly, you nodded, picking up your glass of water, and drinking to hide your discomfiture.  

He gripped the back of your neck, and squeezed.  It probably looked as if he were trying to help you relax tense muscles.  

You would have fresh bruises there, the next day.

The rest of the night passed uneventfully, as you tried your best to be the silent, and smiling supporter.  You must have done well, because he gave you a genuine kiss before you got into the car.  It was hopelessly sweet and gentle, and it made your heart feel as if it were bleeding.

Upon returning home you wanted nothing more than to slump against the door as you slid the uncomfortable heels from your feet, but Oliver didn’t care for bad posture.  So, you gracefully sat on the ottoman that he had purchased just for the purpose, back ballerina straight, as you reached down to remove your shoes, wincing as you saw the blisters on your toes, and heels.  You didn’t particularly care for stilettos, but Oliver thought that they lengthened your legs, which were actually rather stubby, so you wore them.

He strode past, heading toward the bedroom after quickly slipping off his oxfords, and placing them neatly in the cubby by the door.  A place for everything, and everything in its place.  

You were just getting up to look for some band aids to place over your blisters when you heard a muttered curse.  Quickly walking to the bedroom, you saw Oliver standing by the bureau, holding his hand, and staring at his palm.  Walking over, you reached out a hand to take his.

Hissing, he swiftly withdrew, before you could touch him, but not before you saw what looked like flowery little symbols imprinted in red on his palm.

“What happened?” you asked gently.

“Those stupid cuff-links burned me!”

Noticing the cuff-links on the floor, you had already reached for them, gathering them even as he answered your question.  You frowned before you remembered that you were so much prettier when you smiled, and quickly smoothed your expression to a more placid one.  The cuff-links lay in your palm, just as warm and heavy as ever, but they could hardly be described as hot.  Looking closer, you saw that, what you had mistaken for flowers on his palm were actually letters in relief on the onyx of the cuff-links.  A “C”, and a “Y”.  

Not wanting to draw Oliver’s attention to this, lest he chastise you for purchasing monogrammed cuff-links with initials that weren’t his, you walked to the dresser, and deftly dropped them into his jewelry organizer.  “Should I get you some ice?”

“No, I’d rather just stand here, and suffer,” he snapped.

Nodding, you left the room to procure a bag of ice, and some painkillers.  Thankfully, any sort of analgesic medication usually put Oliver straight to sleep.  Fortunately, tonight was no exception, and you slipped into bed as soon as you heard his light snores.  Examining him as he slept, you reached out to reached out to sketch your fingertips over his face.  He always looked so angelic when he slept, with thick black eyelashes that cast dark shadows on his soft cheeks.  The mouth that was so firm while awake, had softened in sleep, looking sweet, and pink, and pouty.  You had kissed that mouth countless times–had wanted to devote your life to kissing it countless more.

Sighing, you closed y