With two days remaining before Riley had to return to work, she spent as much time as she could with Ashe. He would soon have to leave for the Asian leg of his promotional tour for Sentience. This time, instead of sharing the tour with Isobel and Gareth, Ashe was on his own. He didn't mind it at all, he said. In fact, he preferred it to having so many people around herding them as if they were sheep.

His schedule was packed with radio and phone interviews in each city he went to, TV appearances, and even a Q&A at a sold-out venue—all in a span of five days. His day began at six in the morning and often didn't end till nine or ten at night, not including the private parties that he was expected to attend. With only one day allotted for him to recover from jet lag, Riley wondered how he would fare.

Compared to Ashe's busy schedule, Isobel and Gareth were remaining stateside, doing only a minimal number of promotions. Riley had many questions but didn't ask them, as Ashe didn't seem to mind the scale of his responsibilities. His schedule was already set up for him and all he had to do, he said, was show up, smile and answer questions. And smile some more.

That Sunday, after they'd recovered from their night of dancing and sex with plenty of food and rest, Ashe took her with him to the yoga studio he recently discovered since moving to New York. Riley had only tried yoga by using the apps on her computer and found it a nice change to be around other people this time, sweating and trying to look as well-groomed as they had when they'd first walked in. Why they had to do yoga in such a hot room, she couldn't understand, but when it was over, Ashe told her that she excelled in savasana, the corpse pose. That was only because she had fallen asleep on her mat and would have snored had Ashe not woken her up.

They spent that evening at his condo in Waverly Place. Riley discovered that because he was traveling so much, half of his things were still in boxes. So although they had originally planned on visiting some vintage shops, Riley helped Ashe move everything out of the boxes, loving how he asked for her opinion regarding the best place for this or that piece. By the time they were done, all the boxes were emptied, and the place looked like a real home. Best of all, Riley got to see Ashe's collection of books that he'd brought with him from London, as well as his vinyl record collection. Then they wasted no time playing the Beatles, David Bowie and the Sex Pistols in all their analog glory.

The next day, Riley took Ashe on a tour of her version of New York. With Ashe wearing what he called his 'armor' which consisted of a baker-boy cap and thick-rimmed glasses, she began with a trip to the Cloisters, along the northern tip of the city. Ashe surprised her by bringing along a lunch that he'd made himself—ham and mustard sandwiches with cucumber slices and salmon, and a thermos of tea with two matching cups—and saucers. It was so English that Riley smiled the whole time till her cheeks hurt.

They spent the afternoon at the public library, where Riley led Ashe into the Rose Main Reading Room. They sat across from each other between one of the original Carre-and-Hastings lamps that graced each desk, Ashe reading a script he needed to review and Riley reading one of her mother's favorite books, Ariel by Sylvia Plath. Not that much reading was done, as they spent most of that time sparring with their legs underneath the table till a library representative approached them and asked if they'd be interested in a tour of the library's private collection. One of the staff members had recognized him after all.

Riley couldn't remember the last time she had felt like this, giddy as a schoolgirl as they were ushered into private halls and given the opportunity to view exhibits not currently open to the public. And the whole time, Ashe held her hand, or had his arm over her shoulder, always having her close to him. There were brief glances followed by soft kisses and hugs, all of which left her a quivering mess that reminded her of being back in high school. It both scared and excited her at the same time. But then it saddened her to know that in a few days he'd be halfway around the world, and she'd be alone again.

"Who is Conley Brennan?" Riley asked when they'd left the library, walking past the two stone lions, Patience and Fortitude. She'd seen Brennan's name on one of the screenplays he took with him, along with the words music rights. "And why is he so important?"

"Surely you must have heard his songs. Three of them have made the top ten in the country music charts," he said as he hailed a cab and opened the door for Riley. Two women stopped behind them and called his name, but Ashe ignored them, following Riley into the back seat of the cab.

"Three years ago, after recording the last song on his album, Conley Brennan got into his truck at three in the morning to go home, drove off an embankment into a ditch, and he drowned," he said.

"That's so sad," Riley said, frowning.

"His songs would have ended up just hidden away if his widow hadn't gone online a year after he died, asking for financial backers to help her release them. Hazel persuaded me to buy all the rights to his music."

"Your sister?"

He nodded. "She was one of these social media experts, and because she was going through experimental trials where she was regularly sitting down or lying down, she was online most of the time. She and Cookie Brennan were about the same age, and they became good friends. After Hazel asked me to help her acquire the music rights to help Cookie get her husband's songs released, we set up a production company with two other friends. After that, everything was done through lawyers. Conley's music is quite good. I like them."

"That's so weird."

"What is?" he asked.

"You liking country music."

Ashe laughed. "There's nothing weird about loving country music. It's not bad. There's Johnny Cash and Dolly Parton. Wait, are you making fun of my musical tastes now?"

Riley giggled as Ashe put his arm around her. Riley's phone buzzed from inside her purse, but she reached in and without checking to see who called, she clicked the Mute button. It had rung three times that morning and five the day before, but she was too scared—and guilty—to answer the calls and texts. When they were finally inside the elevator and heading up to her apartment, Ashe asked the question she'd long been expecting.

"You haven't talked to Paige yet, have you?"

"She's furious with me," Riley said, keeping her eyes on the floor. "But I've texted her back to apologize for bailing out on her on Saturday night, and to let her know I'm all right."

Ashe said nothing more till they reached her apartment. As she closed the door behind him, she noticed that he didn't remove his scarf or coat.

"You need to speak to her, Riley, if not about us, about yourself," he said.

"I don't think I can avoid telling her about us, not after I bailed out on her charity ball," Riley said. "But what exactly do you mean by about us? What are we?"

"What do you mean, what are we?" Ashe asked, frowning. "Can't you see it? Can't you tell?"

"Maybe I just want to hear it from you."

It was way better than guessing, she thought, or second-guessing.

"I like you very much, Riley, and I want nothing more right now than to spend the rest of the day with you, and much longer than that," Ashe said, drawing closer to her. "But there are things you and I need to do on our own before we can focus on the two of us together. There's my work, for example, and then there's this thing with you and Paige. I know she doesn't like me, and that's something I cannot control. But I'm not about to tell you what you need to do because you already know what you need to do."

Riley sighed. She wished she didn't have to face Paige because she knew that her sister was going to lecture her again about Ashe and how much he would hurt her, mostly because he was an actor, like Gareth, and knew Gareth. But how could she convince Paige that Ashe was so unlike Gareth? She wished she could simply text it all back to Paige, but that wouldn't be right. Besides, Riley was scheduled to have dinner with her, Clint and the kids that evening. She couldn't very well renege on that arrangement, too.

"I'm going to go home and get a few things done," Ashe said. "I've got a few calls to make to my agent and maybe an audition or two over the phone. It will probably take me until about eight or nine tonight to get everything done, or even later because I'll be working on LA time. So I'll see you tomorrow?"

Riley nodded. Ashe turned toward the door, but she put her hand on his arm.

"What will happen if Gareth ends up getting the Conley Brennan role instead?"

He shrugged. "I'd be disappointed, but I'll just keep moving forward. Why do you ask?"

"It's just that ever since we met, it seemed important to you," Riley said. "You even had a dialect coach."

"It is important to me," he said. "But I've also got two movies to shoot next year with different studios, and two other projects that are in development with my production company, so I'm not too worried about it. They're also working off my screenplay, which means my name remains on the credits. And because my company owns the rights to the songs, I hold the power to release the rights to the movie or not, and for a price. In the film world, nothing is ever sure until you sign on that dotted line, but until then, I try not to put all my eggs in one basket." He kissed the tip of Riley's nose. "Are you still worried?"

"Not after you've put it that way."

Then Ashe kissed her on the lips, a kiss so soft that Riley sighed. She had fallen for Ashe, and there was just no way back up to the surface, no chance of feeling like the same person she'd been before she met him.

But then, what kind of person had she been before she stepped into that elevator with Ashe? She'd been in limbo for three years, still wondering why Gareth had left her the way he did, with a mattress on the floor and twenty grand in one-hundred-dollar bills.

Riley forced herself back to the present, the price tag she'd carried inside herself for the past three years slowly receding into the distance. His kiss grew deeper with each passing minute, their tongues sparring toward the end. When she felt she couldn't go any longer without having to rip his clothes off him, her fingers finding the buckle of his belt, Ashe drew back, rested his forehead against hers and sighed.

"I've fallen for you, Riley-I-am," he whispered. "But if I don't walk out that door right now, I won't be able to leave at all, at least not with my clothes still on."

"Wouldn't that be a sight?"

"Yes, it would," Ashe chuckled, walking toward the door. "But I'd rather reserve that performance for you alone."