"Very impressive today," said Liam, taking a sip of his old-fashioned.

"Oh, it was nothing," I said, shifting in my seat, not handling the compliment very well.

Once shooting was done for the day, Liam and I headed out for drinks at some fancy little whiskey bar near his apartment. The bar was on the roof of one of the taller buildings in the village, allowing us a sweeping view of lower Manhattan. The sun was setting, the sky around us a brilliant, deep orange laced with midnight blue swirls. It was one of the views that makes you forget about the hassles of living in the city. At least for a little while.

"Not nothing," said Liam. "Not everyone has the guts to talk to stars like Emmanuelle so directly like that."

"Well, it wasn't entirely direct," I said.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, I've never actually met Anne Hathaway."

The corner of Liam's mouth pulled up slightly as he took another sip of his drink.

"Not like Emmanuel will ever know that," said Liam.

"I'm worried about that director," I said. "Eventually, he's going to have to stand up for himself."

"Right," said Liam. "There's not always going to be someone as intimidating as you to fight his battles for him."

I brought my glass of white wine to my lips but stopped short before I could drink it.

"Wait a minute," I said, realizing that he was making a little crack at my expense.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist."

I let a smile cross my face. It was good to see that even after all these years Liam's sarcastic sense of humor was still intact, even under his master-of-the-universe exterior.

"Seriously, though," said Liam. "Half of this job is handing personalities. If you're able to wrangle these egos, then you'll go far in this game."

"Oh?" I asked. "And what's the other half of the job?"

"Finding the right talent," he said.

"I'm not sure if that was a compliment, but I'll take it anyway," I said, giving a quick nod as if asserting my decision.

Liam and I chatted for a while, catching up on the years that had gone by. I hated to admit it, but I loved hearing all of the gossip that he'd accumulated while building his company. From my position as a gofer, all I had was a list of how certain celebrities liked their coffee. Paul Giamatti? Lots of cream. Amber Heard? The tiniest sprinkling of Splenda imaginable. Julieanne Moore? Lemon, of all things- just a spritz of lemon.

Thrilling stuff, I know.

Liam's gossip, on the other hand, was the type of stuff you'd only come across after getting to know the celebrities in the way that only a big shot producer would. And some of the stories, especially regarding the actresses he mentioned, were what you'd only know if you knew them well. I mean really well. I couldn't help but feel a little jealous, but I did my best to hide it.

And as the night went on and the conversation became more casual and close, so did our bodies. We started off sitting across from each other at the little stainless steel table, but after a time we ended up sitting right next to each other. So close, in fact, that I could feel the heat coming off his body. At least, I think I did.

Finally, in the middle of an animated chat, our hands touched. Nothing serious, but enough contact to give us both pause. Liam stopped midsentence, and we both looked at each other with concerned, surprised eyes.

"Um, I think I'm a little too drunk for a Wednesday," I said, moving over just a bit.

"Same here," said Liam, smoothing the front of his shirt. "Shall we call it an evening?"

I agreed, and soon we were walking silently back to Liam's apartment. Once we were there, we bid each other a good night and Liam retired to his study to work on one thing or another. Pouring myself a half glass of wine and stepping out onto the balcony, I thought about the evening as I looked out over the city.

The touch of our hands like electricity. And there was something there, something still lingering between us. Otherwise, it wouldn't have been so startling to come into contact like that. I mean, I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't still attracted to him. Physically, at least. How could I not? But any real feelings…well, I thought I'd put those aside when I broke up with him in college. I thought that I'd had everything nice and compartmentalized and though working with him after all this time might be awkward at first, I'd be more than capable of handling it. After all, all it took to get rid of feelings was to make the conscious effort to do so, right?

I sighed, realizing how foolish I sounded.

Sure, I thought, all you have to do to get rid of untidy feelings is to just decide to. Because that's how feelings work.

This was going to be an odd situation. I killed my wine and headed to bed.

The next couple of weeks flew by at a breakneck pace. I stayed at Liam's side, helping him with whatever he needed, which usually amounted to keeping his schedule straight. Things on the set were…OK. Michael, the director, was still having trouble asserting himself. And though Emmanuelle was staying in line, for the most part, I got the sense that she was waiting for an opening, a clear sign of weakness in Michael that would allow her to assert more control over the direction of the picture. I couldn't for the life of me figure out why someone as loved as she would want to rock the boat of a production in such a way that it might jeopardize the film. Especially since the movie was already getting buzz.

But I reminded myself that it takes a certain type of person to want to be the center of attention, and people like that didn't exactly operate in the same world that people like me and Liam did. Egos all around in this biz.

Me and Liam ended up slipping into a little routine with our drinks after work. Just about every day, time permitting, we would head out to a random bar in the city, have a couple of drinks, and commiserate about the day we'd just been through. The only rule was that we went to a different bar every time. One day, we went to a dive in Astoria. Another, we went to some extremely ritzy cocktail bar in the financial district where the multi-millionaire stockbrokers drank. Another time we went a bizarre club-type place in Chelsea populated by artists. Liam told me that he was typically so focused on work that he rarely took the time to enjoy what the city had to offer unless it was for the purpose of meeting with someone for work.

And, against my better wishes, I found myself remembering the man who I'd fallen in love with so many years ago.

"Olivia's coming to stay for a little while," he said one night as we enjoyed drinks at a quaint little place in Williamsburg that had been done up to look like a library.

"Oh?' I asked.

I was a little surprised. Liam seemed to keep the subject his daughter out of our conversations, so I tended to forget about her unless he brought her up. I wasn't sure why this was, but I figured a man like Liam preferred to keep his life as compartmentalized as possible.

"Yes," he said. "Her mother is going to be out of the country for a project that she's working on, so she'll be staying with us for a month, maybe longer."

I couldn't help but gulp. I got along with Olivia just fine, but that was in a pretty small dose. How would I be able to handle her for a month or more? What if she decided that she hated me? I couldn't shake these same stupid, insecure thoughts.

"You seem a little off," said Liam. "You OK?"

"Um, yeah," I said, embarrassed that I was advertising my emotions so openly.

"Hey," he said, giving my arm a squeeze. "It'll be fine. She's an easy kid."

"I know," I said. "She's great. But I've always had this weird feeling that I don't have the thing that makes most women get along with kids well. Like there's a part of me that wasn't installed."

Liam chuckled and took another sip of his drink.

"What?" I asked. "Is that so stupid?"

"No," he said. "Not even a little. In fact, it's the exact same thing I found myself thinking in the few weeks before Olivia was born. I think it's totally normal to think, when we're presented with the possibility of having to do something difficult, that we're uniquely unqualified to handle it on some deep level."

This made a lot of sense, and was how I tended to feel about anything difficult that I had to do. Still, living with Liam meant that I was kinda-sorta going to be a guardian for Olivia.

"Just trust me- you'll be fine."

Liam then reached over and put his hand on mine, his eyes looking deep into mine. It was…intense. I know that he was just trying to reassure me but his touch and look seemed to be overflowing with sensuality.

And the worst part is that as soon as he took his hand away, all I wanted was to have it back.

* * *

The next week came and went, and before I knew it, Liam let me know that Olivia was on her way over.

"Here's the thing," he said, cracking open a bottle of mineral water with his gym shirt, a hint of his undoubtedly delicious abs on display. "I had something come up tonight about the project."

Liam was just back from the gym and I couldn't help but notice how goddamn good he looked all sweaty like that. I kept imagining him lifting weights, his arms flexing and tensing as he did his reps.

There is something I should point out about my time working with Liam. The fantasies were getting worse and worse. At first, I was just noticing how attractive he was in sort of a detached way, the same way someone might acknowledge that a piece of art is particularly well done. But over the last week, ever since he put his hand on mine at the bar, I kept finding myself eying him up like a slab of ribeye. It was getting bad.

"Oh?" I asked, sitting at the kitchen bar, my laptop in front of me as I worked to transcribe some of Liam's handwritten notes. "Something I need to be there for?"

"Nope," said Liam, taking a swig from his water, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Just boring technical stuff."

"Try me," I said.

"How does managing a dispute between key grips sound to you?"

"Positively thrilling," I said.

"Geez," Liam said, a sly smirk on his face, "and I thought I was a smart-ass."

"But Olivia's still coming in tonight, right?" I asked, a little bit of anxiety welling in my stomach.

"Right. Normally I'd have her just come tomorrow, but her mom's leaving tonight; she's actually going to be dropping her off on the way to Newark."

"I see," I said, realizing where this was going.

"Listen," said Liam. "It'll be fine. She's a regular kid- she likes kittens, ice cream, pizza, and watching too much Netflix. Just throw some combination of those things at her and she'll be your biggest fan."

"Pizza and ice cream?" I said. "You'll really giving me the keys to the kingdom here."

"More like the keys to her heart. I'm not big on indulging her like this, but I figure you can be the cool aunt-type figure who gives her all the things I try to keep her away from. Probably get her on your side pretty quickly."

"Load her up with sugar and take her to see some cats- got it."

"See?" he said, flashing that incredible smile of his, "you're a natural."

"Let's wait to see if she'll actually be able to stand me before we go crazy."

Another smile. Goddamn, I was losing my mind over here.

"OK," he said, starting off towards the hallway leading to his bedroom. "I need to start getting ready. There's a small chance that Olivia might get here while I'm in the shower, so just keep Olivia entertained until I get out."

"Wait- entertained?"

But before I could get a response, Liam was gone.

OK, entertain her, I thought. How hard could it be? After all, we'd already had a day out and that seemed to go fine. What was I even worried about.

I considered it longer, trying to figure out just what was making me so nervous. I think Olivia and I were making progress, but it had been a while since we'd seen each other. And I was just some woman she met once. What if she'd totally forgotten me? And worse, what if she started asking just what my relationship with her dad was? I mean, I guess I was his live-in assistant, so that would be OK to tell her, but I knew how kids could be- what if she blabbed something about if Liam and I were dating right in front of him? I'd be mortified, and would probably just start stammering until everything that I'd been thinking about Liam was just right there in the open. And I hadn't even figured out how I felt about him!

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, realizing that I was letting myself get carried away with all sorts of silly things. This was just like me, to get anxious about situations that hadn't even happened yet, just assuming that they were already going to go badly and that I was already in the phase where I needed to pick up the pieces.

I poured myself a cup of coffee and tried to calm down. But before I could chill out even a little, a low chime sounded through the apartment. I jolted in place, nearly dropping my cup of coffee.

How the hell did I get so scared of a little kid? I wondered as I walked to the front door and buzzed her in.

I began to realize how much I had been enjoying being around Liam, how good it had made me feel to have him in my life once again. Olivia was clearly his world, and I knew that my own role in Liam's new life entirely depended on how this little girl felt about me. Knowing now that it was silly to worry so much about Olivia, I allowed myself to realize that really, I was just scared about screwing this whole amazing thing up.

The door opening cut through my thoughts. Turning around, I saw that Olivia was standing in the frame, a little pink suitcase in her hand, the doorman standing behind her carrying her larger bags.

"Hi," she said, her voice small."

"Hey, Olivia," I said.

The doorman gave a friendly nod as he dropped off Olivia's bags and headed off. Olivia made a beeline for the fridge and took out a fruit drink.

"Where's daddy?" she said, climbing up onto one of the barstools and looking at me with her big eyes.

"Um, he's getting dressed."

"Do you know what we're doing tonight?" she asked, taking a sip of her drink.

"Umm…" but before I could finish, I heard steps down the hallway.

I turned around and saw that Liam was already ready. He was wearing a pair of dark gray slim-cut trousers, a crisp off-white dress, and a pair of expensive-looking black dress shoes that gleamed under the overhead light. The man knew how to dress up; I'd give him that.

"There's my Minnie!" he said, opening up his arms as he walked into the main room.

"Daddy!" shouted Olivia, rushing from her stool into Liam's arms.

I should've been used to seeing Liam with Olivia by now, but it was still hard for me to wrap my mind around the fact that Liam was actually a father. Not only was the devil-may-care man that I knew from college a successful career man, but he had a daughter who he clearly loved very much. Had he really changed? Had he really trimmed away all off the bad traits from years ago?

Before I could consider the matter for too much longer, Liam set down Olivia and looked at me.

"Here's the deal, kiddo," he said, mussing Olivia's hair. "Daddy's got a really boring but really important meeting to go to tonight."

"Aw!" said Olivia, stamping her foot. "If it's so boring then why do you have to go?"

The wisdom of children, I thought.

"So, here's the deal: you and Miss Mia are going to hang out tonight. You can do whatever you want tonight; it's up to you."

"Can we adopt some kittens?" she asked, an eager smile breaking out across her face.

"Anything except for that," said Liam with a smile.

"Fine," said Olivia.

A buzzing sounded from Liam's pocket and he pulled out his phone.

"Shoot," he said, "the ride's already here for me."

He bent down, gave Olivia a hug and a kiss.

"Be good," he said, ducking out the door. "Both of you."

A wink was the last I saw of him before the door shut.

Once he was gone, a silence fell over the apartment.

"Um, so what do you want to do, kiddo?" I asked.

"Umm…I want pizza, and ice cream, and I want to see the new movie with the talking cats, and…"

Oh good, I thought, she comes with an itinerary.

I finished my coffee and, after checking the movie times, we were off. First stop was the local Cineplex, where we took in the movie that she wanted to see. The name escapes me, but it was some computer-animated movie about talking cats, just like she wanted to see. It was a kid's movie, so I had to fight the urge to slip out my phone and play around on it the whole time, but I was happy to see that Olivia was watching the entire flick with a thrilled look on her face.

Kid loves cats, I thought.

When the movie was over, Olivia spent the walk to the pizza place recounting her favorite scenes. Relief began to wash over me as we strolled through the cool evening air. The nice rapport that her and I had already established came back, and my fear of not screwing things up was gradually replaced by a feeling of fun, if you can believe that. I realized that once I got past the fear of doing something wrong, kids are actually a lot of fun. All you have to do is let them talk about whatever they're into, and they're happy to do it. They're too young to be self-conscious, to be fearful of being awkward or a boring conversation partner, which can be refreshing after spending so much time around adults.

By the time we got to the pizza place, I'd learned more about cats than I ever thought I'd know. We walked into the brightly-lit pizza shop, and soon we were seated at one of the tiny tables near the windows, each of us with a pair of slices on our paper plates. To my surprise, Olivia ordered a slice of Hawaiian and was happily eating it.

"You like pineapple on pizza?" I asked.

In my limited experience with kids, they tended not to be the most adventurous eaters. I had a friend in grad school whose kid had a diet that was almost entirely comprised of chicken tenders.

"Pineapple's good on pizza," said Olivia. "Try it."

She held up her slice, and I just couldn't bear to do it.

"Fruit doesn't go on a pizza, kiddo."

"You're crazy," she said. "It's the best."

We finished up our slices and headed to her favorite ice cream place, cutting through Washington Square Park. I kept finding myself surprised at just how much I was enjoying spending time with Olivia. By the time we had gotten our sundaes and brought them back to the park, taking a seat on one of the benches as we watched the people go by, the grand arc towering over us, we were like old chums.

Soon after, we were back at the apartment and Olivia was about to collapse from exhaustion. Another thing about kids: they don't really have a conception of "energy-" they just go and go and go until they're out. Which was just fine for me.

And truth be told, when I got back I was pretty fried too. All the worrying had really taken it out of me. So when Olivia asked to put on another movie, plopping down next to me on the couch as it came on, it was no surprise that we were both out like lights before the opening credits finished.