"Twenty questions," Ashe said softly as Riley snuggled against him, both of them facing the window. More than twenty-four hours since they both stumbled into her apartment after a beautiful night out on the town, it was drizzling. Water trails made their way down the window panes, casting shadows across their bodies lying on the bed.

Riley didn't have to glance at the clock to know that dawn was approaching. They'd fallen asleep after the third time making love–the third time of crying out his name as she came, her voice growing hoarser with each gasp, each moan, each breath that left her lips. Her body was spent, though her spirits soared every time he touched her, kissed her, and pulled her toward him. She loved the way he looked at her when he made love to her, the way he buried his face in her hair, his fingers interlaced with hers that told Riley he was really there, and he was really seeing her.

He was baring her.

"Can we just start with five?" Riley asked. "I'm usually the one who asks the questions."

"Why are you afraid of being asked similar questions you had no problems asking me?"

"I just prefer to ask them."

"Don't you think that's unfair?" His voice grew lower, teasing.

"Yes, it is."

"I don't understand."

"Because I've made my mistakes, and I don't want to be judged because of them."

"Do you believe falling in love is a mistake?" he asked.

"Only when there's no guarantee that it'll last forever."

"Nothing lasts forever, Riley. But would you have wanted the last...relationship to last forever?"

She sighed. "You ask hard questions, Ashe."

"Please answer the question, Riley. Would you prefer that relationship to last forever? Gareth?"

"In hindsight, no," she replied. "He would have betrayed me anyway. If not in L.A., then right here in New York. Or anywhere for that matter."

"You're uncomfortable," Ashe said. "Would you want me to stop asking questions?"

Riley turned to face him, marveling at the color of his eyes. So blue, darkening whenever he frowned. She shook her head. "It's only fair that you get to ask the questions."

"Even if it makes you uncomfortable?"

"Maybe it's time for me to stop feeling too comfortable," Riley replied as she turned to lay on her back. Ashe still had his arm around her, his other hand supporting his head. "I've been hiding from the truth for so long. If not drugs, then I did it by working too much. And I still do."

"What are you afraid of?"

"The truth–the awful, ugly truth that people hide behind their lies, their smiles," she replied. "So sometimes, I don't even try asking the questions that need to be asked. I'm afraid that I'd find out the truth and it'll hurt. And I'm afraid of being alone."

"But you're not alone. So many people love you."

"Then why do I feel lonely?"

"Are you feeling lonely now?" Ashe asked, frowning.

Riley shook her head, forcing a smile before sighing. This was exactly what she feared. The truth. But she might as well say it for in the morning, he'd be gone, and he'd probably forget all about her.

"No, right now I'm fine. But when you go–and you will go–then I will feel lonely. But I'll be okay," she said, looking up at him, serious now. "Any more questions?"

Ashe frowned. He was studying her face as if he was taking in every curve of her cheek, every line that would have told him she really laughed more than she cried. She was a barista after all. And baristas needed to be happy.

"Ask me if I ever feel lonely," Ashe whispered. "Go on."

"Do you ever feel lonely?"

"Sometimes," he replied. "And I never felt as lonely as I did when I first met you in that elevator. Two people standing in a box, yet so distant. So alone, and so apart from each other. You on your way to something that would connect you with your past–"

"I had changed my mind then."

"–and me walking away from people who wanted me only according to what I could do for them," he said, smiling drily.

Riley turned to look at him. Before this, they'd lain on the bed on their sides, still facing the window with her back to him. But she needed to see him now, to see his face, his eyes.

"Is that why you started talking to me?" Riley asked. "To make a connection to something else? Something more real?"

"Someone, Riley. Not something. And you're more than real. You're the real thing," Ashe said, kissing her forehead. "You made me smile my first real smile that day."

"Well, I can be comedy relief," she said softly though Riley didn't laugh. There was something in his words that tugged at her.

"Well, there's that," Ashe chuckled, rolling onto his back as Riley turned to face him, half on her side and half leaning against him. His fingers played with her hair, pushing a lock away from her face or twirling it around his long fingers. "You're a very beautiful woman, Riley. Never forget that."

"I'll try," Riley said, tracing a scar just below his right collarbone. It was about two to three inches long, and though it was faint, she could see the shadows it cast on the skin around it. "Where's this from?"

"From a fall when I was a young lad," he replied. "I was riding my horse, and I thought I could do something daring, like jump over this tree branch lying along the path. But the horse had other ideas. Scared my mum half to death."

"It would scare anyone half to death," Riley said. "You're lucky that's all that happened. It could have been worse."

"Aye," he said, lifting her left arm to the light and tracing a scar that spanned a few inches along the front of her arm, just above her elbow to the middle of her forearm. "Where's this from?"

"From a fire when I was ten," Riley said, her throat tightening.

Ashe turned to look at her. "Was this the one with your mother?"

She nodded. "Dad was at work, and Paige was in Manhattan, at an interview. One of those modeling casting calls or something." Riley didn't look at him though she could tell that he was watching her carefully, his thumb tracing the scar tenderly.

"The fire came from next door," Riley continued. "I guess his bed caught fire from a cigarette or something. And he had tons of books in his apartment–just hoarding, that kind of thing–so it was like kindling and whoosh!"

Ashe was frowning now as he listened to her, the hold of his left arm tightening around her.

"My mom and I were home on the fourth floor, and when the fire alarm rang, I tried to get to her out. We couldn't use the elevators, so we had to use the stairs. But she had MS... you know, multiple sclerosis, and she was in a wheelchair. Eventually, we did get out when the firefighters arrived, but Mom and I got stuck in the back hallway and ended up with smoke inhalation. She died three days after, from complications."

Ashe rolled back to his side. "God, Riley, I'm so sorry. You were only ten."

"Yeah, but it's alright," she said, forcing a smile as her gaze moved down his body. She pushed the covers lower to expose his toned belly where another scar was visible just along his left side. She traced it with her finger. "Where'd you get this one?"

Still frowning, probably digesting what Riley had just told him, Ashe took her hand from his side and brought it to his lips. "From a fight when I first moved to London."

"A bar fight? Maybe over a girl?"

He shrugged. "From something. But you're changing the subject, Riley. It's something you do quite well."

She shrugged. "I just don't get to talk about it much. I mean, my mother. But I have her books, the ones we were able to save from the fire, and the water hoses from the fire truck."

"So that's why Paige is very protective of you," he said. "Not that I can blame her. You're her kid sister."

"So you better not hurt me, Ashe-I-am, or my sister will go after you," Riley said, punching his shoulder playfully. "She doesn't take kindly to anyone who'll hurt me."

"I don't ever want to hurt you, Riley," Ashe said, drawing closer. "I meant it when I said I've fallen for you. I meant every word. I can't stop thinking about you."

He kissed her, gently at first, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses along her lips, her cheeks and then down her throat and to the skin just below her collarbone, his hand moving down her hip.

"But you're leaving," Riley said. "My sister said that you're flying to Asia next to promote the movie."

He stopped kissing her. "But I'll be back."

She nodded, but how was she to know he wouldn't sample the buffet? Didn't they all want a taste? A look would never be enough.

"Something's bothering you," Ashe murmured, his eyes narrowing.

"It's nothing. It's just me being me."

"But I like you being you. So what's bothering you?"

"Paige said you'd sample the buffet of...booze, drugs, women. Or men, whatever you may fancy–"

"Is that what you think I'd do?" he asked, drawing away. "Sample the buffet simply because it's there?"

"Doesn't everyone?"

Ashe took a deep breath and rolled away from her. He sat on the edge of the bed, and Riley regretted saying what she said. Why did she have to ruin the moment? It wasn't even six in the morning yet.

"I'm not everyone, Riley," he said, getting up and retrieving his clothes from the floor. Riley sat up, watching him get dressed. Boxer shorts, Dark tailored trousers, belt. "And I'm definitely not Gareth."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm not good at this at all. I thought..."

"Did he really hurt you so much that every man has to fit the outline of the pain he left behind inside you?" Ashe asked. Wearing just his trousers, he walked to her side of the bed and sat down. "I told you tonight that I've fallen for you, and that was no lie. But I don't intend to live in someone else's shadow should we take it further."

"I knew him since I was seven and he was ten," she said, wringing her hands together atop the blankets. "He was my first kiss, my first time, my first everything. My first heartbreak."

"Does he have to be your last, too?" he asked, before shaking his head. He ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry."

"We dreamt of getting out of the neighborhood, get into Manhattan so he could go to school, take his acting classes and go to auditions. He did a few plays, supporting roles, but we never gave up on his dream of being the star. But when he went to L.A. to try his luck there, he gave up on me. I guess you could say that he realized he didn't need me anymore. So I came back and pretended everything was fine," Riley said, looking away. "Only it wasn't."

"His friends–or assistants came by the apartment and gave me a bag filled with money. Twenty thousand in hundreds and twenties. Then they cleaned out the apartment, and left me with only the mattress," she sighed. "I went back home, to my dad's in Jackson Heights and moved back into my old room–"

"He paid you twenty-thousand dollars to be quiet?"

She shrugged. "They never said it was to keep me quiet, but it might as well have been. At least it happened sooner rather than later. Still, I tortured myself wondering why."

Riley stuck out her left arm, where a scar marking a burn so long ago marred her skin. The track marks were long gone now, smoothened by cocoa butter lotion and some expensive cream Paige bought by the carton for her from Italy, but she'd always know where they used to be.

"I spent all the money he gave me on drugs," she said as Ashe took her arm and brushed his fingers lightly on the burn scar. "I put up a good front for Paige and Clint. I worked two jobs, so I could save enough money to get out of that old house with my old man always getting drunk. I figured maybe I'd move back to Manhattan, be closer to Paige. But I began to dabble in drugs. I knew nothing about drugs. I mean, even if I did, it didn't matter, not when I had his money to burn. And one day..."

She paused, suddenly ashamed of what she was about to say. But she had to say it. There was no turning back now.

"Paige found me on the floor with a needle still stuck in my arm, and she's never forgiven me since. She and Clint put me in rehab to get clean, and I've been clean ever since."

Ashe didn't speak. He just watched her, waiting, listening.

"I haven't talked to Gareth in three years," she said. "When he contacted me on Facebook, I thought it wouldn't hurt to see him again, maybe ask him why he did what he did. Why he paid me off like some hooker he needed to buy off–"

"You're worth more than that, Riley."

"But I couldn't do it," she said. "I couldn't go to his room, no matter how hard I tried. Suddenly it was not important to know why he gave me that money, or why betrayed me even before he left for L.A. So I made my way down and ran into you. And when he came to the coffee shop, I didn't know what to think. He said later on that I was seeing you to get back at him. He said that you'd never go for someone like me, that you're too proper–"

"Ee, by gum, Riley," Ashe murmured then, taking her in his arms and holding her tightly. "Don't ever think you're not good enough–not for me, nor for anyone else."

"But–"

"Because you are good enough, if not better...more than anyone you know," Ashe said, tilting her chin, so she was looking up at him, at the pain behind his blue eyes. "And if you really want to know, even more than me."