By the following morning, entertainment networks were abuzz with news of Gareth's disappearance. Some wrote that it was probably another one of Gareth and Isobel's explosive arguments, for just as they were often caught being such lovebirds in public, they were also known for their very public arguments.

If eyewitness accounts were to be believed, Gareth and Isobel had been seen arguing just outside his trailer that evening, shortly after shooting had wrapped for the day. Someone said that it had involved another woman. Another report said it had more to do with creative differences, that Isobel wanted a scene to go one way and Gareth had other ideas. Another person claimed he'd overheard them arguing over some online review she'd left for a coffee shop his ex-girlfriend owned—something about a rat she'd seen on the premises even though she'd never been there.

"Didn't you tell me that the Library had a rat problem?" Ashe asked as he slipped a dark blue beanie over his head, a look that Riley loved.

"The cafe has no rat problem," Riley replied defensively, "though someone did post a fake review that they'd seen one."

"Well, thank goodness not everyone believes those damn business reports. Though I have to admit that if Isobel did leave such a review, it just shows her level of immaturity."

Riley chuckled drily. "I'm not the one who dated her for over a year."

Ashe ignored her as he slipped on his dark wool coat before checking for cat hair. Unless Miss Bailey had learned how to recline on coats hanging behind doors, Ashe was simply doing it out of habit. He was dressed in his outfit from the night before; a plain white shirt layered beneath a denim shirt and his favorite jeans.

Riley was always in awe of his ability to mix and match clothes so effortlessly and had concluded that it must be the result of the years he'd spent modeling, just like Paige's talent for mixing and matching anything on hand and making it work. As for Riley, she was lucky if she didn't look like she was doing the walk of shame every time she emerged from her own apartment, dressed in whatever she thought was comfortable. That was how one gossip site had captioned their picture of herself and Ashe leaving her building in search of coffee two blocks away.

As she watched him check his reflection in the hallway mirror, brushing his hair with his fingers, Riley remembered how their day had begun at five that morning, with his phone buzzing noisily. He'd been in the bathroom then, and when she'd taken a peek at his phone, she saw he'd received a number of text messages.

Another text said, , a third, And yet another said,.

As Riley buried herself under the covers then, she realized that this was something she had to get used to, remembering Paige's plea to find someone normal. She wondered how she'd fare in the long run having to deal with Ashe's crazy schedule, his constantly buzzing phone, and the glances people gave them when they were together. She wondered if she'd always be judged by the way she looked, what she wore or what she did. One gossip site even wrote that Ashe could do better than date a barista, of all things. Never mind that she owned half of the Library Cafe, although that was not common knowledge.

Riley pushed away those thoughts. The last thing she needed was new crap heaped on the old pile of crap, the one that included the disappointments of yesterday. Things could be worse.

"You're thinking so hard that fumes are coming out of your ears," Ashe teased, his voice bringing her back to the present.

"I'm just getting used to my new reality, where I'm finally on my own. It feels like it's the first day of my life," Riley said, walking toward him and leaning against the couch as he stood on the landing.

"Because it is the first day of your life, Riley. At least, that's the way I see it," Ashe said. "You had a hell of a day yesterday, and it will take some time to adjust to all the changes. I don't think I'd be able to handle betrayal from everyone I trusted without falling apart like I did when Hazel died. You're much more courageous than you believe yourself to be, so it's time you gave yourself a bit more credit."

"It's called 'practice. Gareth and I—" Riley stopped herself. "I'm sorry. I really shouldn't be talking about him."

"No, please go on," Ashe said, but Riley clamped her mouth shut, and he continued. "While I may be jealous of him for having spent all those years with you—and angry with him for having hurt you like he did—I'm also grateful that we met because of him. Now, while I may not want him to be in every conversation we have, there are things that you shouldn't have to hide from me. I'm a grown man, and I can take care of myself. If I feel that you're talking about him too much, I'll be the first to let you know that, and we'll sit down and work it out."

"Why doesn't it bother you, then? It would bother me a lot if you talked about Isobel."

"For one thing, because he's missing and, if he hasn't reached out to any of the usual suspects, then he's all alone somewhere, and that worries me. We may not be the best of friends, but we got to know each other pretty well during all those months of filming and rounds of publicity. And he did talk about you, Riley—his girl, even though he didn't say your name," Ashe said. "But if you think I'm jealous, you're wrong. You grew up with him, and he was there for you so often in your life, good and bad, the way I was there for Hazel. I know it's not the same because Hazel was my sister, but I'm happy to know that Gareth was there for you when Paige couldn't be, and I don't want you to erase those memories for my benefit or at least, for my ego."

"How do you manage it then?" Riley asked.

"I trust you, Riley-I-am. That's how I do it," he said, his brow furrowing. "If I can't trust you, then we have no basis for being together at all, not even for the sex, no matter how mind-blowing it is."

"I trust you, too, Ashe. Not just that, but I love you. You do know that, don't you?"

"Of course, I do. Otherwise, I wouldn't be standing here in front of you right now," Ashe said as Riley walked over to him and linked her pinkie finger with his. "We all have baggage, Riley, and we don't have to be ashamed of it. It may have made us the way we are up to now, but we can't let it define who we are or who we will become."

"I wish I could be like you, Ashe," Riley said. "No baggage to worry about."

"I have baggage, too, Riley," he said, frowning. "More than you'd care to know right now, but I've got them. And one day, when you find out what they are, you just may decide that I'm not for you. But then, I can't allow myself to be defined by my baggage, just like you can't let yourself be weighed down by yours as well. What matters is what we have now."

His phone buzzed again, and Ashe pulled it out of his jacket pocket and checked who was calling. "I have to take this. It's an interview with GQ," he said, pressing Answer and asking the caller to hold on. "I'll be at home today. I need to work on a few things before we take a break for the holidays together. What's your day like?"

Riley shrugged. "I'm just going to tidy things up around here. Hang out."

"I'll phone you when I'm finished, then. Ring me anytime you need someone to talk to."

"What if I want to do more than talk? What if I want to climb you like a tree right now?" she pouted. They'd only snuggled the night before, and she wished for nothing more than to strip his clothes off him and drag him back to bed.

"Then definitely call me, but not just now," Ashe grinned, kissing her lightly on the lips before leaving.

The knock on the door came two minutes later.

"I forgot my scarf," Ashe said as Riley picked it up from the couch where he'd left it and draped it around his neck. She planted a kiss on his lips, using the ends of the scarf to pull him back into her apartment.

"Oh, no, you don't," Ashe said, laughing and holding up his phone, "unless you want the reporter to hear everything you're doing right now."

She let go of him, horror-stricken.

"Oh, my God, what did he hear?"

"Nothing yet," Ashe whispered. "I put it on Mute, so I don't think he heard anything. Do you think if I turn the volume back on, it will make my public image more exciting given he'd probably add whatever he hears into his article? Maybe I'd appear less stuck up?"

"Shut up! Off you go then, actor boy, and get to work," she laughed, chasing him out of the apartment and closing the door behind him.

When another knock came three minutes later, Riley rolled her eyes and walked back to the door, scanning her apartment for anything else Ashe might have forgotten. Other than the glass containers he'd used for last night's dinner, there was nothing. Perhaps he wanted another kiss, and if he did, this time, she was going to keep him in the apartment and go back to bed.

"This had better be good, Ashe Hun—" she said, opening the door. Her voice froze mid-sentence as she stared at the man in front of her. They had his eyes, all three of them. Trevor, Trey and Thomas.