After a brief weekend in New York, we were on the flight back to London. Langford sprang for business-class seats, which was a luxury a small town girl like me couldn't even imagine. As I sat back in the chair, stretching my legs out in a way I'd never been able to do on a plane, I turned to Sam, who was currently going through the financial news on his iPad.

"That seemed to go by far too quickly," I said.

"No doubt," he said, absent-mindedly scrolling through his news feed. "But think of that as a little recon mission. That, and just getting our faces and the name ‘Langford' in people's minds. "

"We did shake a hell of a lot of hands," I said.

"That was the goal. And you did a lovely job, I might add."

I blushed a bit.

"Are you joking?" I asked. "I felt so jet-lagged that I was half-certain that I was going to fall asleep holding some middle-aged guy's hand."

"That would've been quite the sight," he said, flashing me a smile. "But I'm serious- you were the picture of charming; just the type of person I'd like at my side during the process of making first impressions."

"Well, thank you," I said.

Sam turned off his iPad and set it on the fold-out table in front of him, next to his glass of red wine.

"You know, you're going to have to develop a little more of an ego if you're going to be working in this business.

"An ego, huh?" I said, smiling a bit. "How do you mean?"

"Well, for one you're extremely qualified for this job. I hope you've never gotten it in your head that I brought you on board for this position because you're a familiar face, because that's not true in the slightest. Your credentials were outstanding, and according to the Human Resources employee you chatted with during the interview before you arrived, you were outstanding."

My face went red again and I looked down in front of me at my feet fidgeting together.

"Thanks, but it was just luck, mostly."

"That's precisely what I'm talking about," he said. "You're going to need to learn to take a compliment without immediately swatting out of the air like a bothersome little fly. For a few reasons, actually. One, because you have a multitude of fine traits that are more than worth complimenting. And two, because if someone a little more of a…manipulative bent, sees that you buckle under the weight of a kind word or two, then they'll see that leaves you open to being taken advantage of by massaging your ego in just the right way."

There was some sense to what he said, though I wanted to take issue with the suggestion that I had a "multitude of fine traits." But I loved the phrase- why did everything sound so damn classy in a British accent?

"Then what can I do about it?" I asked. "Look at myself in the mirror and tell myself how wonderful and amazing I am over and over?"

Sam chuckled a bit.

"That's certainly one angle of attack. But what I would suggest is just starting small. Here- let's give it a try now."

My stomach tightened at this. What did he have in mind?

"I'm going to pay you a compliment," he said, shifting in his seat and turning his body towards me. "And I know you quite well, so I'm going to mean it. And what I want you to do is to simply say ‘thank you,' smile a bit, and move on. None of this ‘oh, that's nonsense' business, no deflecting the compliment with an insult towards yourself; simply a ‘thank you, Mr. Huntington,' and that's it."

"Sounds easy enough," I said.

"Well, we'll see how well you can handle it. Ready?"

"Sure, I guess," I said through a smile, the whole situation a little funny to me.

He looked at me deeply, as if peering right into my soul. I felt the heat of his gaze as he looked at me with those frighteningly beautiful eyes, eyes that were as clear and blue as the cloudless sky outside of the airplane window.

"Mary Metzger, you are a beautiful, charming woman and you've been a lovely, talented assistant thus far. I hope that we have many more years of a wonderful, fruitful working relationship, and I look forward to watching you grow into the talented professional that I know you can easily become."

The words hit me like a jolt of electricity. He wasn't kidding about complimenting me; those were some of the kindest words that anyone had ever said to me. But as soon as the last word left my mouth, that doubtful voice crept into my thoughts, the one that insisted that he was just saying that, that he couldn't possibly actually mean it. I felt the instinct to do just what he instructed me not to, which was to deflate the compliment with a self-deprecating comment. However, I let the strange feeling wash over me and then leave.

"Thank you, Mr. Huntington."

"Very, very good," he said, giving me a quiet little golf clap. "I can tell that wasn't your first instinct."

"Because it wasn't," I said. "It felt a little awkward to just let someone say something like that to me."

"Then it's a muscle that you're going to have to work out," he said. "Just keep at it."

I had to turn away; the smile on my face was simply too beaming. Now that I'd simply been able to accept the compliment, the words did their work on me, bolstering my ego just a bit. I know Sam said to be wary to not be too affected my compliments like that, but I couldn't help it. Hearing Sam call me "talented" and "charming"…well, it was almost too much. And that's not even getting into "beautiful." I mean, I know he had to be attracted to me since we'd had a relationship, but hearing it again, from this new Sam; it was something else.

After I'd let the words work their way through me, I turned back to Sam, who'd gone back to his iPad.

"A shame we couldn't see more of the city," I said.

We were only on the ground for a day and a half, and that time was spent mostly rushing from meeting to meeting, grabbing naps when we could, and stopping for quick bites at speedy little restaurants. The sights of the city -the towering skyscrapers, the lush green of Central Park, the majesty of the bridges that stretched over the East River- all passed by as a blur, nothing more than an incidental backdrop to our frantic work.

But Sam only had a scoff to offer in response.

"Trust me," he said. "We're going to be spending so much time in New York that you're going to look back on those words and laugh in a few months."

Maybe he was right, but at the moment all that I wanted was to be able to spend a little more time there, maybe check out a museum or two, take a walk through the park, have a nice dinner- the usual New York thing.

"When's our next trip planned?"

"In ten days," he said.

I raised my eyebrows.

"Already?" I asked.

"See what I mean?" We're going to be joined at the hip to that city, so pace yourself. But yes, that's our next trip. And we're going to be there for a full month this time, so if you'd like to have a little more time to wander about, then you will. But we'll have more than plenty of work to do."

I said a silent, internal "yes!", though I wasn't looking forward to all the flying.

"And we'll be bringing Grace along with us this time. So, I've got to get all of her school business taken care of so she won't get too far behind."

"How far behind can a four-year-old girl get? Maybe she'll lose a week in advanced finger-painting?"

"You laugh, but these private schools are no joke. Teach the kids as quickly as possible so that there's no room for error, I suppose."

I found myself thinking about little Grace. She seemed like a charming, happy-go-lucky girl, but I still didn't feel like I'd made the connection with her that I would've liked. Though I suppose there would be ample time to get to know her better.

"Alright,' said Sam, slipping his laptop out of his Italian leather briefcase. "I've plenty of things to take care of before we land."

"Need help with anything?" I asked.

"You needn't bother yourself," he said. "Just try to relax during the rest of the flight; I'll have more than enough business for you to attend to when we're back in London; don't you worry."

So, I tried to do just that. I drifted in and out of sleep, and soon we were back in London. Our landing at Heathrow was calm, and once back in the car and on our way into the city, I felt a sense of coming home that I hadn't felt since moving here. It was like London was finally becoming my city.

"Listen," said Sam as we sat in the back of the car from the airport. "I have a slight favor to ask you."

"Shoot," I said.

"I've some meetings to attend to tonight- nothing that you need to be there for."

"You need me to watch Grace?" I asked, beating him to the punch.

"If you wouldn't mind," he said. "I know it's not exactly in your job description to watch Grace, but I'm more than willing to compensate you for the time. And it'd be doing me a huge favor."

"It's totally fine," I said, secretly feeling a little nervous about it. "Any sort of things she likes to do?"

"Thank you, first of all," he said. "And as far as things to do, the girl is simply mad about shopping. I think she gets it from her mother; that woman could run up a credit card bill like no one else."

"So, a shopping trip, then?"

"Sure," he said. "Let her pick out a few odds and ends, maybe grab a bite to eat- nothing too crazy."

"Sounds manageable."

"I think you'll do fine. And I'd be most appreciative. We'll actually be picking her up along the way back."

We continued on, stopping at Gracie's school. We'd arrived just in time, because right when we came to a stop in front of the stately, brick building a bell sounded and dozens of little girls all dressed in their adorable school uniforms came toddling out, all wearing book bags that looked so big on them I was half-expecting them to topple over. Eventually, Grace emerged from the group and spotted us. Moments later, she clambered into the car and threw her arms around Sam's neck instantly.

"Papa!" she shouted, a beaming smile on her face.

"There's my little muffin!" said Sam, returning her affection.

"You were gone too long," said Grace, settling into her seat. "I missed you."

"Well, I missed you too, darling," said Sam. "But I have some good news- the next time that we travel to New York you'll be coming with us."

Grace gave Sam a blank look, as if not really understanding what going overseas entailed.

"You'd like New York," said Sam. "Lots of food, lots of shopping."

"Does that mean we have to go over the water again?" she asked. "I hate that; it takes too long!"

"But once we're there, we'll have plenty of time to spend together."

"Fine," she said. "Just so long as you're there."

"Of course I'll be there with you," said Sam.

"And now that you're back, can we go out to dinner tonight? I want to get a cheeseburger!"

Sam winced, knowing that he was about to lay some bad news on her.

"Actually, tonight Papa has to do some work things with some very boring people. I'd much rather spend the evening with you, but I can't."

A little pout formed on Gracie's face.

"But you're always working!" she said. "You never have time to take me anywhere!"

"I'll be free tomorrow," he said. "And tonight I'm going to send you out with Miss Mary; she said she'd be more than happy to take you out for shopping and cheeseburgers."

Grace's piercing blue eyes turned to me, as if sizing me up as a potential companion for the evening.

"But I want to go with you, Papa," she said, turning her eyes back to Sam.

"Let's have some fun tonight, Gracie," I said, feeling like I should say something. "Would you like to go out and see a movie? My treat."

"I don't want to see a film," she said. "I want to see Papa."

"Aw, darling," he said. "I promise we'll have fun tomorrow night. But for tonight, I want you to be a big girl and be on your best behavior for Miss Mary. And I promise she'll buy you a cheeseburger."

"Fine," she said, still sulking. "But only if you don't work tomorrow."

"Deal," said Sam, extending his hand to Gracie's which she took, a silly smile on her face.

I wasn't too hot about Grace having to be bribed to spend time with me, but I knew not to take the words of a kid too seriously.

Back at the apartment, I let myself fall onto the couch as I began to decompress from the flight.

"When you're heading out?" I asked Sam.

"After I finish this cup of coffee and get changed," he said.

"Damn," I replied, suddenly feeling lazy lounging around. "No rest for the weary."

"You have no idea," he said.

But if he was exhausted from the flight and everything else, he sure didn't show it. Even now, well into this little arrangement that he and I had, I was still having a hard time coming to terms with this new Sam, the one who worked like a dog and still had energy left over for his daughter. Had he really become this new person? Or was he simply keeping things at bay, only to show his true colors when the chips were down?

Before I had too much time to consider the question, Sam emerged from the hallway leading to his bedroom. He was dressed in another one of his stylish power suits, a blue and white striped tie finishing the outfit.

And there's another thing I just can't get over, I thought. How goddamn good he looks in those suits.

"OK," he said. "I'm off. My card's on the kitchen table; feel free to take cabs wherever you need to go; price isn't a consideration."

One final little "not the Sam I knew" matter- having money. When he and I were a couple I'd grown accustomed to just how much he had to stretch his earnings. I wasn't much of a pampered princess type, but between our partying and his modest income, Sam never had much money to have a night out that didn't involve cheap pints and falafel.

We said our goodbyes, and Sam headed out. Now it was just me and Grace, who was sitting at the kitchen table doodling with her crayons.

Might as well break the ice now, I thought. I mean we had our little breakfast together before and that wasn't too bad; surely she's warmed up to me by now.

"What're you drawing there, Grace?" I asked, standing over her and watching her work.

She appeared to be drawing a stick-figure representation of her, Sam, and her mother. But her mother wasn't sketched in the most flattering way; her eyebrows were black and scowled, and there was a thundercloud hanging above her head. And strangely enough, despite the mostly crude style of the picture…it wasn't that bad. She'd managed to capture certain specific features of her mother and father, and the way she'd drawn the textures of the clothing caught my eye. For a four-year-old, it wasn't terrible.

"That your family?" I asked.

"You're blocking my light," said Grace. "I can't see anything."

"Oh, sorry," I said, stepping out of the way of the sunlight streaming into the living room.

"That's Papa," she said, pointing to a picture of a beaming man in a business suit. "He's always away at work. And that's Mama," here she pointed to the scowling woman. "She's always yelling."

I'd only met Evelyn briefly, but it was more than enough to leave me with a fairly unfavorable impression of her.

Then an idea struck me.

"Gracie, do you like to draw?"

"Yes," she said. "Duh."

"Then how would you like to go see some pictures of people done by people with tons of talent and skill?"

"Like, paintings?" she asked.

"Exactly," I said. "London has lots of really lovely museums. Do you want to go see one and look at some pictures?"

Grace considered the matter.

"Um…OK," she said. "Can we go shopping afterward? I need some new shoes for school."

I was overjoyed that I'd gotten her on my side, at least for the time being.

"Of course," I said. "And when we're all done we can go out for cheeseburgers."

"OK!" she said, seeming enthusiastic.

OK, Mary, I thought as Grace sprang out of her seat and went off to get ready. Just keep this up; she's just a kid, after all. Get out of your damn comfort zone.

But the comfort zone seemed quite appealing. Regardless, I pushed these thoughts aside as I munched on an apple while I waited for Grace. She emerged moments later in a pair of jeans and a top with a big kitten drawn in a stylized cartoon manner. And the whole outfit seemed to work with the red sneakers she was wearing.

Kid knows how to dress, I thought.

We called a cab and headed off for the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square. Since we'd been indoors, the blue sky became covered by a standard London sheet of slate gray clouds. But the weather was still mild and pleasant. Once inside in the majestic interior of the museum, Gracie's face lit up in a way that I'd never seen before. As I paid the admission I could barely keep a handle on her, so excited was she to begin exploring the place.

"Are these real pictures?" she asked as we moved from painting to painting. "Did real people make these?"

"They did," I said. "Real people who practiced and practiced tons of hours."

She continued flitting from piece to piece, drinking each one in as quickly as she could and moving onto the next. Grace was like a little sponge, soaking up the majesty of each painting. Every now and then I'd catch her closing her eyes in front of a particular painting, as if committing it to memory.

After a brief hour, all she wanted to do was start from the beginning and go through again.

"Can we?" she asked.

And as she stared up at me with those piercing blue eyes, I couldn't say anything but yes.

"Sure," I said. "But we're going to have to hurry if you want to do all the other things you want to do today."

"OK!" she said.

And through the museum we went. Grace was just as enthusiastic this time, moving so quickly I could barely keep up. And this time she spent a few more moments at the paintings that caught her eye. She seemed to be drawn at the Renaissance-style paintings of beautiful, glamorous women all dressed in finery.

Once we'd made our way through, I found myself needing a brief sit-down. It always struck me as interesting how simply going through a museum could be so exhausting. Grace was near, and once she'd finished looking at the paintings in the room, she took a seat next to me.

"I can't believe real people made those," she said, wonder in her voice. "Some look like camera pictures."

"Some people are very skilled at art," I said. "Lots of practice, too."

"Does that mean I could be that good one day? If I practice and practice?"

I thought about that drawing of hers that she'd made earlier in the day. It certainly showed a bit of potential.

"I bet you could. But you'd have to work really hard."

"Then I need supplies!" she said. "I have to start practicing today!"

Her eyes flicked to the gift shop nearby.

"Can we?" she asked.

"Sure," I said, happy that I'd connected with her about something.

We headed to the gift shop where she filled a children's sized basket with all sorts of art supplies, along with a few prints of the paintings that she seemed to most enjoy. Soon we were out and back onto the street.

"This one's my favorite," she said, holding up the print of Le Chapeau de Paille, a painting by Rubens I recognized from Art History back in school. "I like her hat."

"I bet if you love clothes you'd have a lot of fun painting them," I said.

"Yeah!" she said, seeming to love the idea.

"You still want to go shopping?" I asked.

"Um, sure," she said.

However, she seemed more into the art supplies she'd just purchased. We went through a few stores, but she didn't approach buying clothes with the same enthusiasm that she'd had when at the gallery. I couldn't help but wonder if this little trip was just the thing to bring out the budding artist in Grace.

After a few purchases, we decided it was time for hamburgers. Stopping at a local pub, we bought a couple of big greasy burgers, and I got a pint of something good to wash it all down with. Once the food came, however, instead of eating, Grace pulled out her sketch pad and began drawing it.

"That's a good way to let the food get cold," I said, taking a sip of my beer.

"Just a few more things," she said, squinting her eye in a totally adorable way as she made a few more strokes with her pencil. "Done!"

She turned the sketchbook around, a proud look on her face. Sure enough, the picture of the hamburger was pretty damn good.

"That's…great, Gracie," I said, genuinely impressed.

Once we were done at the pub the evening was well on. We headed back to the apartment and Gracie went off eagerly to work with her new supplies. Feeling good about the day behind me, I poured myself a glass of wine and took a seat on the balcony, letting my eyes drift over the city.

"I assume Gracie's in her room, and that you didn't sell her to a band of gypsies or something."

I turned, and saw Sam standing on the balcony, his tie undone in an attractively casual way.

"Yeah, I got a little bit of a headache and pawned her off," I said with a smirk. "Figured you wouldn't mind."

Sam took a seat next to me and poured himself a glass of wine.

"Good day?" he asked.

"Very good," I said. "I think you may have a little artist on your hands."

"Really?" he asked.

I went through the day, telling him about the museum and everything else.

"Simply lovely," he said. "I've been waiting for her to get into something besides collecting clothes. Perhaps this will be her new passion. Thank you for taking her, by the way."

"It was my pleasure," I said, a little surprised that I very much meant what I said. "And how was your evening?"

"Boring, as to be expected; just getting everything sorted out for our next trip."

"Can't believe we're going back," I said. "Real jet-setters."

"Get used to it," he said. "That's the sort of life you're going to be leading. New York now, then maybe Paris after that, trips to Berlin here and there. I even spent a week in Tokyo a year or so back."

"Wow," I said. "All over the place."

"Got to go to where the money and clients are. All a big hustle," he said. "In a way, not too much different than hustling for tips from behind the bar. Just do it in an office while wearing a suit, now."

I couldn't help but smile at this little reminder of the man Sam used to be.

"Still hard to see you like this," I said. "Still hard to believe you're living this life."

"Same here," he said. "It's quite the trip. All feels like a dream sometimes."

At this, I turned and my gaze settled on his profile. My eyes moved along his features, taking in every bit of his gorgeous face, finally settling on his lips. Without thinking, I found myself biting my own lip just a bit. I felt…strange. I felt something burning in me that I hadn't felt since…well, since I'd dated Sam. It was like something had been lying dormant, just waiting for the right spark to bring it roaring back to life.

And looking at Sam, I felt it begin to smolder.

"It does…" I said, my voice breathy. "All feels like a dream…"

Now it was Sam's turn to face me. Our eyes locked, and he stared at me with those unbelievable blue eyes. I felt trapped by him, almost hypnotized. And as we regarded one another, a cascade of feelings, old feelings that I thought were long gone, began to fill me so intensely that it was almost overwhelming. He leaned in closer, and I let my eyes close, prepared for whatever might come next.

"Ah," he said abruptly. "I really ought to get back inside, you know, check on Gracie."

Then he heaved himself off his chair, grabbed his glass of wine, and rushed back inside.

Then it was just me, the city spread out around me like a silent witness to something I couldn't quite understand.