Now

"Thank you, thank you. Wow. This was wholly unexpected; honestly I never expected to be here on this stage. Arr! I don't have anything prepared. This was a special project and I just feel honored to have had the opportunity to take part in it. I should start by thanking the writers, director, cast and crew. My lovely co-star Fiona, you made me look a lot better that I probably was. Thanks also to Mary for sticking with me all these years and letting me sleep on your couch, Alison too, for putting up with me. Thanks to my Mum and Dad for always being in my corner and Granny for helping me find this path, you told me I had a bright and brilliant future ahead of me and I guess you were right. And lastly, a very special thanks to Clary and Eli, everyday you inspire me and you ground me and I couldn't do this without you both. Clary, my darling, my best friend, you are the love of my life and everyday I feel lucky to have found you and each and every day I love you more, you truly are my better half. Eli, the day you came into this world you showed me what joy truly is, I love you pumpkin! Now, it's time for bed! Thank you again! Goodnight!"

He did it, I can't believe it. Al's going to flip. I think, my mind is racing as I realize my phone is vibrating with an incoming call. "I can't believe he did it." I whisper to myself as I reach for the buzzing device, if forced to hazard a guess I'd say it has been ringing since he first said my name - Oh my god, my name! - at 2 am there was only one person it would be. "This should be good" I say to myself as I glance at Eli fast asleep on couch next to me.

"Hello" I whisper, as not to wake my sleeping daughter.

"Clary? It's Alison were you watching?"

"Hi Al, I'm fine thanks. How are you?" Alison, always in a rush, tends to dispense with pleasantries when she calls me, I refuse to. "Was I watching,? My husband nominated for an Oscar and me unfit for travel? Of course I was watching, I wouldn't miss it." I answer.

"So you heard?" She asks, notes of stress underpinning her attempt at measured excitement.

"I heard." I tell her, " you sound nervous, what's the problem?" I observe and ask though I know what the problem is; the problem is that Jace is married. We weren't really hiding our relationship but it's safe to say it wasn't public knowledge.

"There's no problem, we knew eventually the story would break, right now it's all over Social Media and 'JacesSecretWife' is the top trending hashtag on Twitter. I just thought we'd be out in front, you know, control the feed a bit more-"

"Control the feed…of course, have you spoken to Jace?" I ask, slightly deflated.

"Not yet he's presenting next so he managed to avoid the backstage press. Mary's with him to strategize."

"Strategize" I repeat, suddenly exhausted "He's in good hands with you two, I have no doubt you'll handle this, but it's late and I'm exhausted and frankly, this was never a secret in the first place." I say, crestfallen.

"I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry Clar I never meant to upset you –"

"You didn't upset me, I'm just tired and perhaps a bit sad that our bubble has popped" I interrupt, cutting her off.

"I know Clar, sleep, you need it. And again, I'm sorry if I've upset you, I'm under strict orders to do no such thing. Fact, Jace would probably hang me out to dry if he knew I called you in the first place. We'll talk tomorrow and hey congratulations! You're married to an Oscar Winning Actor!"

"Thanks Al, and I'm fine, I'm pregnant not ill. Talk to you tomorrow. Goodnight!" I say with enough enthusiasm to avoid further conversation.

I hang up the phone in time to watch Jace present, he's presenting with his co-star who was, well in on the secret, I suppose. This is fortunate because someone else may have tried to go off script and pry into Jace's big reveal. He announces the winner and exits stage left. Damn he looks good in a tux I think, wishing I was there with him, instead of laid up on the couch barely able to see my feet.

"Time for bed pretty girl." I whisper, in an attempt to rouse my sleeping munchkin.

"Did daddy win?" Eli asks, sleepily.

"He did! And he said he loves us and it's time for bed, so off we go" I respond, tickling her tummy just before she slides off the couch padding towards her bedroom.

I tuck Eli in and make my way towards my own bed. It's empty and feels too big, I miss Jace. Just as that thought crosses my mind my phone rings.

"Hello, Mr. Big Oscar Winning Movie Star." I answer giggling.

"Hello, beautiful." He responds, he sounds tired but excited and as happy to hear my voice as I am his. "I wasn't sure you'd still be awake? How are you feeling? Is everything alright?"

"Feeling good and of course I'm awake, you didn't think I'd miss seeing you in a tux did you? Even if it was only on TV."

"I should have known, even if you should be sleeping, what is it 3 am there?"

"Just past 2 actually and just crawling into bed, thinking how big and lonely it is without you." I whine, somewhat over dramatically.

"So you saw? Are you upset?" I feel bad that he's barely had a moment to enjoy this.

"Of course not, I'm so excited for you! This is a huge achievement and you couldn't have been more deserving. I've been saying it since the nominations came out! Just think if you'd listened to me you may have been more prepared and not forgotten to thank your sisters." I tease, trying to lighten the conversation.

"My sisters! Bugger." He says, I can almost hear him bring fist to forehead. "But are you upset that I mentioned you?"

"What? Babe, how could I be upset?" I offer in mock indignation "If you hadn't thanked me, now that would have been something to get upset about! Besides, it's almost a miracle we've stayed hidden this long, we were never supposed to be a secret forever. Ali must be losing it though"

"She is, she's really worried they'll figure out who you are and show up on our doorstep 'Jace Herondale's wife' is the top searched item on Google at the moment. Everyone is asking for a picture." He sounds nervous and worn out. "I hadn't thought of that, I guess I wasn't thinking." He finishes, his tone apologetic.

"I hadn't thought of that either-" I muse aloud "but it doesn't matter, as I said, it was never really a secret to begin with. My darling, we will deal with whatever comes at us together, but tonight just enjoy yourself. Sweetheart, you just won your first Oscar! How are you not bouncing off the walls?"

"I'm British?" He teases " and I know, I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing, we'll figure it out." I offer "Does Ali really think they'll show up here?" I ask concerned. It's one thing for them to know, but I'm not interested in a sea of paparazzi at my front door, jockeying for pictures of Eli and I.

"I don't know, if they can find it, yes, I'm sure they'll turn up, hoping for a glimpse, but on the other hand that's why we made sure that the house could not be traced to me, so I imagine it'll take them longer to find and if you factor in the time change-" He trails off " But either way Mary's catching a red-eye few hours to be closer to home and help as needed and Emma will be on the first-"

"Emma? My sister Emma?" I interrupt.

"The very same," He tells me, "she'll be on the first flight out tomorrow. I don't want you and Eli to be alone and my parents are easily found. I tried to reschedule tomorrow's interviews to come home myself, but consensus is I stay and answer Matt Lauer's questions. I don't want you to be alone and since my family isn't an option-" He trails off. What else is there to say really.

"I just feel bad, dragging her into this-"

"Dragging! She's happy to come and help."

"If you say so," I say through a yawn, realizing how exhausted I am.

"My darling, you're exhausted, you should get to sleep, I'm keeping you awake."

"You're not keeping me awake, I miss you and I love hearing your voice. The bed feels too big without you, when are you coming home?" I say again, with a subtle whine.

"I've got Lauer in the morning and taping for Jimmy Fallon in the afternoon, which Al is trying to move up or cancel entirely. I'll be on a plane right as soon as I'm done, the studio is loaning me the jet so I am not at the mercy of commercial airlines." He explains.

"Mmm, how kind of them," I say laughing.

"What?" he asks.

"I just can't imagine you trapped for 10 hours on a flight filled with all manner of inquiring minds, so I'm glad to hear you won't have to, if I'm lucky you will be returned to me with a shred of you sanity intact. I miss you." I say, fading.

He laughs, "I miss you too my love, I'll see you soon, sanity as intact as possible." He says sweetly, "Sleep well, my love and feel good. You have nothing to worry about. I love you."

"I love you too." I say

"Goodnight, my darling."

"Goodnight."

I hang up the phone and as I lay there waiting for sleep I can't help but wonder what this means for our little family. I'm not worried so much as saddened by the loss of our anonymity. Our marriage was never meant to be a secret, somehow it just sort of happened that way. I guess we were lucky and as we value our privacy never saw a reason to broadcast it. In many ways it surprises me that we've gotten away with it this long. In our cozy little neighborhood in London, it's certainly no secret, the neighbors, the shopkeepers, the postman all know us but I guess no one has felt compelled to alert the media, I guess they value their privacy as much as we do ours.

It's still hard to believe this is where I've ended up. It seems like yesterday and at the same time a million years ago that I first met Jace Herondale. I'd seen him on screen dozens of times, he was impossible to overlook. A rakishly handsome, reluctant tween heartthrob that I'd never dreamed I would meet, let alone marry.

On paper I'd grown up a fairly typical New England girl, with a big family and a golden retriever. I'd say everything about me was unremarkable; I got decent grades, played soccer in the fall and skied in the winter, and spent all of my free time in the art room. I maintained a decidedly average 3.25 GPA and after high school I planned on attending NYU to study Art History. I had plenty of friends, though only a few that I felt the need to keep in touch with post graduation. I spent my summers on Martha's Vineyard making coffee and breakfast burritos in the morning, sleeping on the beach in the afternoon and hanging out with my friends and siblings at night. I was the eldest and with that comes a certain amount or responsibility to set an example and look out for the younger ones, and without consciously deciding to I took that role seriously, always there for them and always standing up for them. I did what was expected of me and never questioned that if I stayed the course charted for me everything would happen as it should. Education, career, marriage, family, and so on. Armed with these idealistic assumptions I set off for NYU where I hoped continued on this path to mediocrity but have a little fun on the way. I studied, partied, had boyfriends, made friends and joined a sorority.

While I've never given much thought about what I look like I know I am beautiful. People's reactions to me illustrate this. Friends and family told me I was beautiful and my grandmother in particular took great pride in what a beautiful family we are but still I never paid any attention to it. I was admittedly a bit bookish and introverted in high school and while I did date here and there and even had one serious boyfriend, I was never one of those beautiful, popular people they make teen soap operas about.

In college it became harder to ignore these assets or perhaps I unconsciously decided to embrace it. My friends and I joined a sorority sophomore/junior year and with them we became a presence on campus, it was thrilling. People knew who we were and wanted in, parties would start when we arrived and I never had to buy a drink. For the next year and a half it was a whirlwind of classes and social commitments and I loved it. It was the first time in my life that I felt a part of something that wanted me to play a part. But eventually the reality of playing this roll catches up to you. I didn't even realize I was playing a role until it was almost too late. People responded to and interacted with me in a way that suggested they had no idea who I really was. I had become caricature of myself, complete with expectations that I couldn't and more importantly didn't want to live up to. When did this image of me that was so out of step with my own self-image emerge?

By the spring of my junior year I had a reputation for wanting to have fun and a boyfriend with a dark and mysterious, mischievous streak that was exciting and alluring until mischievous became monstrous. When that toxic relationship collapsed early in my senior year, it put me at odds with nearly everyone in my circle, leading me to realize that who I was and who people saw were not at all the same. After spending the holiday break putting myself back together, in January, I dove back into college with a renewed focus and a strong desire to put some distance between myself and my so-called friends. I focused on the present and hoping for a more pleasant future and when something threatened this focus and I began to struggle, I withdrew, avoiding confrontation at all costs.

I met a new guy, unlike any I'd dated previous. I liked him well enough, he was safe and upon graduating moved in with him. I was back on course, back to vanilla and I'd like to say I didn't mind, but I was bored and it was boring, because the problem with a degrees in Art History is they don't qualify you to do anything in particular, there's no clear path laid before you. In the months following graduation I spent time settling into domesticity and applying for every job from curatorial associate to mail carrier and ended up a barista at the café on the corner. All the while tuning in every week to watch the man who would rock my world and become my husband on TV. My attempt at domestic bliss barely lasted through the fall, by the end of the year I was chafing under monotony and decamping to Europe with a former professor, ready to see the world and do something good.

Then

We met completely by chance, on an unseasonably warm spring day in late March. Jace was filming a new movie in Boston and there was a lot of buzz about the idea that this movie was his first step to breaking the bonds of teen-idolhood. It was a gorgeous day so instead of sitting inside I had decided to pack up my research and head to a park not far from my apartment for the afternoon to do some work. As it turned out the movie was filming in the park and the set was mobbed with screaming tweens. I managed to find a relatively quiet spot away from the activity of the movie set and got an hour or two of studying done before the clouds rolled in and it started to look like rain. Quickly packing up and heading out I couldn't help but notice that the movie set was also packing up for the day, but the crowds were as thick and ravenous as ever clearly hoping to catch a glimpse of the illusive star on his way out. I giggled to myself as I shuffled past them, quickening my steps in hopes of beating the rain home.

In that moment I kind of felt bad for the guy, I'd never given much thought to celebrity culture. I'd crossed paths with famous people and generally speaking I was unimpressed. They were either very nice and normal, very suspicious of everything and everyone around them or very interested in you knowing who they are. I was not an easy mark, I didn't care who any of them were, sure maybe if Bono had crossed my path I'd have asked for an autograph but otherwise I was perfectly content to treat them like a regular Joe and let them live their lives. Jace Herondale, however, was a constant presence in the grocery checkout line. Linked to this actress and that co-star, cheating on one with the other, it all seemed so sad and desperate. It seemed his entire existence was available for public consumption and ripe for tabloid fodder. I remembered reading a Vanity Fair article about him, describing his upbringing, his views on fame and America's obsession with celebrities, and he seemed genuinely disinterested and disheartened by all of the attention he was getting. He felt he was just doing his job, you wouldn't ask a plumber about their personal life so why ask him? It struck me how candidly he spoke about his lack of privacy and how he really wanted to be left alone to work. Where most actors would be heavily coached not to alienate the fans, after all, your fame is your fans, he felt that fame and celebrity were the unfortunate side effects of the job of actor. That interview read in direct contrast to what the tabloids would make Jace Herondale out to be, which begged the question which version was closer to the truth?

His big break was playing Irish exchange student Keiran Mulcahy, on one of those ridiculous tween soaps that no one admits to watching, but everyone does. At the time Jace was 5 years older than his character and looking to break into the US market. He wasn't quite prepared for what that would actually look like. He had grown up just outside of London the youngest of three. His father, a grocer and mother a grade school teacher, a normal, down to earth, comfortable life. He got into acting in secondary school and, much to his mother's dismay, ultimately decided to put off university for a year to see if he could make it as an actor. After getting jobs in a few commercials in the UK and managed a guest spot on an iTV period drama about British school children during WWII. The role was never meant to recur but he so endeared himself to the cast, crew and viewers that producers offered to have him back again and again. He spent 3 years on the show and acted in a handful of small, low-budget films before getting a small role in an romantic comedy about American teenage girls abroad, year later they brought him back for the sequel and shortly after that he landed on the CW. The character of Keiran was written as a bit of a punch-line and never really meant to be a series regular, but just like iTV, the CW recognized his talent and offered him series regular for the second season, they gave him better story lines and within no time he was a fan favorite. A couple of years later he was fielding offers to star in every rom-com on the production schedule and the rest, as they say, is history.

I arrive home as the skies turn the color of wet cement, casting a greenish twilight on the world below, and I can smell the rain in the air as I dash up the stairs to my cozy second floor apartment and scoop up Beatrice, my scrappy little rescue mutt, for a quick walk before the deluge. We round the corner on the main drag and are confronted with a wall of shrieking teenage girls. It seems Jace is taking shelter in the corner café. Instinctively I choke up on Bea's leash and decide to navigate around the back of the building and avoid the hoards. Bea leads the way down the alley towards the back of the building as I pull out my phone to text my little sister Emma. The café's delivery door swings open, stopping just short of Bea's nose, she stops dead in her tracks and looks back at me as if to ask "what the fu-?" But all I see is Jace Herondale emerging looking scared and confused, unsure of which way to run. Before I have a chance to pull her back Bea jumps up to say hello, I start apologizing profusely, just as the rain begins.

"It's fine," Jace says struggling to be polite and with awkward urgency, while patting Bea's head looking lost, "make it up to me a by getting me out of here?" He sounds genuinely desperate to get off the street.

"I'm sorry, what?" I'm caught completely off guard by his request. Mind you Bea is still on her hind legs front paws on his thigh, licking his finger tips, though he seems unfazed by this and, in fact, he's sort of smiling at her. I look into his face, he looks desperately in need of help and I rack my brain trying to think of where to take him, I hear thunder rolling in. "Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere that's not here. Please, these-this whole situation is just out of control." His eyes pleading with me.

"Um, hold these" I say as I hand him my umbrella and Bea's leash. The rains picking up as I start to take off my rain jacket, improvising.

"What are you doing?" He asks.

What am I doing I ask myself. My mind is going a mile a minute, a small voice asking some very good questions. Am I really going to camouflage this perfect stranger and sneak him back to, where? My apartment? This is crazy! But it'll make a great story…I argue silently. "Put this on and follow me." I order as I hand him my old LL Bean windbreaker. It was a hand me down from my mother, who is nearly as tall as he is so fortunately it doesn't look entirely ridiculous on him, if I'm being honest, it probably looks more ridiculous on me. Just as I'm about start explaining the exit strategy, hoping it comes to me as a talk, there's a huge crack of thunder and it begins to pour. The girls around front squeal as the rain comes down like a faucet. I grab the umbrella, hoist Bea up into Jace's arms and grab his arm shouting "Follow me."

We snake around the far side of the building and walk right through the dispersing fans, they don't even notice him. We're a block past the café and I lead us towards the only place I can think of, my place.

As we climb the steps I realize my keys are in my jacket pocket. "Sorry, I just-" I say as I turn to face him.

No, I'm sorry" he interrupts "I should go," He looks around nervously; he still has no real idea where he is. But away from the energy of the frenzied crowd he looks far more relaxed. He's about to say something when it's my turn to interrupt.

"-just need my keys. Left hand pocket if you don't mind." He awkwardly shifts Bea and reaches into the pocket of my jacket and I can't quite read the look on his face he's about to say something but I can't tell what it's going to be. Surely he's about politely excuse himself, which is the most appropriate thing to do. But he's still wearing my coat and holding my dog. I see something cross his face; he's as perplexed as I am in this situation. And perhaps, also like me, he's not quite ready to part ways.

"I'm sorry," he says again as he hands over my keys, "you must think I'm a madman, the name's Jace by the way"

"Clary," I say, like I don't know who you are, I think "and who am I to think you're mad when I'm the girl rescuing strange men from hoards teenage girls? That's Beatrice by the way and if I were you I'd put her down, she doesn't like being carried on stairs." I finish with a smile.

"Beatrice?" He pronounces each syllable as I had, "Dante, then, not Shakespeare?"

"Very good," I say, surprised, "Most people don't pick up on that and make a Benedick comment. I fell in love with Dante during a semester abroad in Florence." I smile.

"I felt awoken in my heart a loving spirit that was sleeping." Jace quotes.

"And then I saw Love coming from far away so glad I could just recognize." I finish "La Vita Nuova, very good." I feel a blush bloom in my cheeks and turn to unlock the front door.

"Well, Beatrice, it's been very nice stealing your body heat." He says to her in an unmistakable puppy voice as he plants her on the stoop. She licks his cheek.

As I unlock my door, I realize just how odd the circumstance I've found myself in is on so many levels. Here I am a single, broke, grad-student, living alone in a fairly compact apartment, letting a complete stranger into my home. But he's not a stranger is he, he's Jace Herondale, he quotes Dante, everyone knows him. I think, but knows one knows he's here, that small voice of reason points out.

I head straight for my bathroom to grab 2 fresh towels, we are both soaked to the bone, I toss him one and wring my hair out with the other. Bea wanders my way and plops down in front of me waiting to be freed of her leash and harness. She too is soaked; I turn to grab an extra towel and turn back to see Jace on his knees drying her off.

I watch for a moment, mindful of Bea's usual reluctance towards strange men. But apparently I needn't worry, she approves of Jace. I laugh a little and they both look up at me, drying has turned into a game of peek-a-boo and Bea's face lets me know I am interrupting her fun times with a new friend. "Fine then, I am going to change." I tell her and make my way to the bedroom closing, and locking, the door behind me. The spring rain has chilled me to the bone and without putting much thought into it I don a fresh pair of jeans and a flannel shirt. I paw through the laundry basket of clean clothes my brother forgot last week after coming over to do laundry (my parents help with the rent if I let my siblings do laundry as needed). I manage jeans and an old Red Sox t-shirts that I'm pretty sure will fit Jace. I open the door to discover he has fallen right into Bea's trap and peek-a-boo has degraded into towel tug of war, Jace is letting Bea win and by the looks of it having a great time doing it. I stand in the doorway for a moment and am struck by how normal this feels, curiously there's nothing awkward about this. I started to giggle and catch Jace's attention, I've broken the spell, he realizes where he is and attempts to scramble up from the floor. I laugh again.

"Don't let me stop you, she's loving it, she'll do this all day if you let her." Bea demonstrates by continuing to tug at the towel. "Here, my brother left these a few weeks ago, they may not be a perfect fit but they are clean and dry." I finish as I toss him the clothes.

"Um thanks." He says "But, maybe I should go."

"Out in that? That is a serious downpour." I argue playfully pointing at the window which looks like someone is spraying it down with a hose. "It's up to you but you're welcome to hang out until the storm passes." Really Clary, I think to myself, now we're inviting strange men to ride out storms with us?

"I wouldn't want to impose and I'm sure you have better things to do with your time." He says.

"It's totally your call. I've got no plans other than homework, which I'm very good at putting off. Really it's no imposition." I explain, apparently I am trying to convince him to stay.

"This day has not gone as planned and I'm just exhausted, I can barely think straight. Are you sure? I never meant to impose-"

"Seriously, no imposition, feel free to change in the bedroom, I'm going to make some tea, interested? Nothing special, just good old Earl Grey."

"That's sounds great, thanks again Clary." And he disappears into my bedroom Bea, close at his heels.

I fill the kettle and move it to the stove. Turn the dial, nothing but the pungent smell of natural gas, which is odd. I turn off the hob and crack a window while I investigate. The power is out. It's rare we lose power in a storm but not unheard of, I'm not sure how I hadn't realized it sooner. It's pushing 4 in the afternoon so while there's a chance they'll have to power back by bedtime it is safe to say we'll be dark until tomorrow. A quick call on my cell phone to the power company confirms my suspicion. I locate matches and light the stove the old fashioned way. Jace should be changed by now, but the door hasn't reopened. I pad back toward the main room taking care to tread loudly past my bedroom. Just as I pass the door opens.

"So it seems that the power is out." I inform him.

"So no use in asking if you'll let me charge my phone, then?" he asks staring intently at his useless iPhone.

"Sadly, nothing to provide a charge." I reply "But you're welcome to use my phone if you need to make a call." I offer.

"So here's thing," he starts, conspiratorially, "I should call and let my manager and publicist know I'm not kidnapped and tied to a radiator somewhere. But I feel like I've just been given a reprieve, fallen off the grid and I'm kind of enjoying it. I can't be sure, but I think I'm more relaxed than I've been in ages, but you're not allowed to tell anybody that. I'm told I love the fans and the fame-" he trails off as he sinks into the couch pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I've never heard someone liken notoriety to death row, but as long as you're looking to lay low you're welcome to hang here. Bea seems to agree." I respond as Bea snuggles into Jace's side.

"It's not that it's like death row " he responds defensively "it's just…limiting" he says, democratically after a brief pause. He goes on to tell me everything I'd wondered and never wanted to know about fame. In a brave moment, explained only because of how comfortable I felt talking to him; I call him on his reputation, his penchant for bedding his ingénue co-stars and allegations of cheating. He deflects at first.

"A gentleman never kisses and tells." He says coyly.

"So there is something to tell..." I tease.

"There's actually not, suffice to say photographers truly have a gift for designing a story with the singular goal of ensuring their photos sell for top dollar." he explains with thinly veiled bitterness. "My poor mother, at points she's feared she'd raised some sort of depraved sex-addict." he concludes with an edge of sadness.

"I'm sorry, I never meant to pry. I just..." I trail off uncertain of what to say.

"It's fine. Really. It's just painfully frustrating at points. What's funny about it is these pictures are little more than a coworker and I grabbing a drink after work. In any other profession it wouldn't be scandalous or even news worthy. But it does make having any kind of relationship, personal or otherwise quite difficult. It's hard to trust other people's motives and even if I did trust them I find it difficult to bring people I could potentially care about into that. It only leads to heartbreak, trust me, I know."

"I'm sorry." I feebly offer again. "I wasn't trying to pass judgment."

"I didn't think you were. It's just the price of fame and when I was younger I'm not sure I truly realized what a hefty price it is. I said my mother fears for my immortal soul, but she also knows she and dad raised my siblings and I right. Consequently, I lead a very solitary life mostly because I don't want to hurt anyone and I don't want to get hurt." He explained.

"Well," I start, unsure of how to respond. "That seems…lonely and a bit sad if I'm being totally honest" I say after a brief pause. It's clear that he's either a gifted actor or just not at all what 'Life & Style' makes him out to be. The question is which is it. "Don't you miss having that connection with people? Or more appropriately perhaps, exploring that connection?" I ask before I have a chance to realize that may sound presumptuous.

"It can be lonely however I suppose that most of the time I'm too busy to notice. And I have a fantastic group of friends, many of whom have known me long before fame and a few people I've bonded with who are also 'in the business'" He says, gesturing air quotes. "They know the real me and call me on my bullshit, they're good people. But I guess I see what you mean." He says with a smile.

We continue to talk for hours. Conversation flow easily like old friends and eventually the sky grows dark and we light a few candles and keep talking. He asks about my "studies" and how I chose Boston. I laugh at his British-ness and tell him about my love of art. We debate Picasso and Dali, Kiki Smith and Shepard Faery. Before long the overhead light turns on and I worry that the spell is broken.

"Let there be light" he jokes as I lean over to blow out the candle. He leans back into the couch and looks to be deep in thought for a moment, "I just realized I'm famished. Can I interest you in a late dinner?" He asks.

"Food sounds amazing right now." I agree "But I doubt anything's open, we may be at the mercy of my kitchen." I add, mentally thanking the powers that be that I have all of the ingredients for risotto.

"Foraging it is then." He says as he stands up, gesturing towards the kitchen. "Lead the way."

We make our way to the kitchen and I start to assemble the necessary ingredients.

"So you're just going to throw together a quick risotto." Jace asks in disbelief.

"Absolutely! It's the easiest thing in the world, pay attention. I think you're about to learn something." I kid. "Any allergies or dislikes I should know about?" I inquire.

"Not a fan of SPAM," he tells me, observing a can of SPAM on my countertop "but, past that, I'll try anything once."

I giggle and explain, "That's an inside joke with an old friend and not at all fit for human consumption if you ask me."

I grab the appropriate pans and start prepping ingredients, Jace offers to help, so I task him with dicing onions and washing baby spinach. A moment later I realize he may not be as great a cook as he is an actor. He is slowly and precisely cutting the onions to a near perfect dice, one disc at a time.

"Mind if I make a suggestion?" I ask gently, I've found people can be defensive about their cooking skills or lack thereof.

He smiles at me, mischievously as though he's been found out. "Please." He says offering me the knife. I carefully take it and show him how I cut onions.

"Brilliant." He says sounding a bit surprised.

"Don't sound so surprised, cooking is no joke, my friend." I say with mock seriousness. Just when starts to look nervous that he's offended me I crack a grin. "It doesn't need to be perfect, just uniform." I add with a smile, passing the knife back.

"Thanks for the tip. Where did you learn to cook?" Jace asks. It's a harmless question but it catches me off guard. I hesitate for a moment and he notices. "I'm sorry I never meant to intrude."

"No it's fine," I cut him off, "My ex actually, it's probably the best thing to come out of that relationship." I say, with a bit of an edge.

"So safe to say it ended poorly?" He says, taken aback.

"Well it did and it didn't, I don't know. We weren't together for a long time, but we started as friends and probably should have stayed that way. We were never really right for each other and even though I knew that on some level, I let it go on far longer than I should have." I explain. "In the end he never really saw the end coming and for that I felt awful."

"One rarely does, it requires too much self analysis. How long ago was that?"

"It was almost 3 years ago, he started talking marriage and I knew I had to break it off before we got there. It was all around a bad situation, in some ways we were more like roommates who shared a bed. I don't know if the passion died, or if it was never really there to begin with, I suspect the latter. I'm sorry, I'm rambling and I'm sure you have very little interest in my dating exploits." I said, focusing on mixing chicken stock and measuring rice.

"No, it's fine, how did you get together in the first place, if there was no real passion?" Jace asks.

"I think in a lot of ways he was exactly what I needed at that time. I'd gone through a rough patch senior year of college and he was there and safe…" I trailed off.

"Sorry, I was not trying to pry." Jace offers, sensing my tension.

"No, it's fine, really, I'm just not used to talking about it. So what about you, what's you awkward ex story?" I ask as I pour olive oil in the pan.

"Oh well, those stories could take all night." He hedged, motioning to the onions. "Are you ready for these?" He asked.

"Almost." I answered, swirling the olive oil. "C'mon, I told you mine, it's only fair." I chide.

"The thing is, I'm not supposed to talk about these things with people I don't know." He explains politely.

"Understandable. But c'mon, I just taught you how to cut an onion, I'm hardly a stranger." I pause, as soon as that's out of my mouth I realize how it must sound.

"You, realize that's exactly what a gossip blogger would say you know?" Jace counters before I have a chance to correct myself.

"I really was only kidding , you certainly don't have to if you don't feel comfortable, if it makes you feel any better I'm not all that interested in the celebrity gossip machine. I have no intention of selling a story to Life & Style." I say as I pass him a bottle of white. "Open this? Corkscrew's in the drawer to the left of the sink." I direct, as I add the onions and rice to the pan and offering him a way out of that conversation.

"In any event my personal life has appeared on the pages of every magazine there is and has been splashed about on hundreds, if not thousands of websites." he says moving towards the corkscrew.

"Being young in Hollywood is a dangerous proposition and not conducive to being in a relationship. The fact is most of the relationships I've had in the last 2-3 years have been carefully orchestrated by publicists to cultivate an image and or sell tickets. I haven't had a real, meaningful relationship in at least 3 years, probably 4." He offers, the pop of the cork punctuating his response.

"Was that with someone famous?" I ask as he passes me the wine.

"It was, with a costar actually, I'm sure I needn't name names. Typical onscreen relationship, that continued off-screen. Chemistry on screen translates to chemistry off seemed like a good idea at the time, another person in the business who'd know what it's like..." He said, bitterly.

"But, not so much?" I say, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't pry, especially after you asked me not to." I say in surrender.

He shrugs, "suffice to say, we were after very different things from our 'relationship'. If I'm being honest, that's the one that scarred me the most." He said thoughtfully, "I expected a fellow actor to know what it's was like and understand my desire for privacy. And to a degree she did but she also loved to limelight. Where I wanted to avoid the tabloids she, at points, sought them out and tipped them off. And we can't forget that there is always a new crew and co-star to find new chemistry with. I'd say that has left a most lasting impression. I don't expect people to be perfect or have a flawless record, that's what makes us interesting and human. We have transformative experiences and it's the sum of those experiences that make us who we are. Media seeks to use them against us, publish stories to sell magazines without a single thought as to whether that deeply personal experience should be shared. Anyhow what are we doing with that wine?" he asked, effectively changing the subject.

"Ahh, so the key to risotto is to cook it gently and slowly." I instruct as I pour wine over the contents of the pan. "So we allow the rice to slowly absorb every addition of liquid before adding more…"

We continued to chat about nothing in particular as we finish cooking. I plate, Jace pours wine and we make our way back to the living room to catch some news while we feast. The top news item is the storm, followed by the fact that it rained out shooting of Jace's new movie and I can't help but laugh. He playfully elbows me in the ribs and laughs too.

"That reminds me I should plug in my cell, do you mind?" He asks.

I point to the table by the door "My iPod charger is plugged in behind that table, feel free." 10 minutes after he plugs it in it comes to life with a variety of alerts.

"Those will be Allison." He says as he picks up the phone glancing through messages before dialing.

At the mention of a woman's name I am unexpectedly taken aback and I can feel my face fall a bit. I'm not sure what I was expecting, nothing really, it's just caught me off guard and I can't help but listen to his end of their conversation.

"Hi Al…yeah, I'm sorry, I err, ran into an old friend, we're just catching up…" He glances over to me shrugging his shoulders, "No I'm sorry I've worried you, the power's only just come back on and you know as well as anyone I never charge my phone when I should…Yes…well no, I hadn't thought of that…well, I'd tend to doubt that's happening. Yes…Yes, I'll call you from the cab…that's fine, see you soon. Goodbye." Jace finishes his phone call, turning back to me, "sorry, Allison's my publicist, she's angry I've missed my afternoon engagements." He says as he sits back down and takes another bite of food. "This is fantastic by the way." He compliments.

"I'm glad you like it, and I'm sorry if I've kept you…" Although I haven't kept him, I'm just unsure of what else there is to say.

"Nonsense, you haven't kept me, I've been hiding out and this has been a lot of fun, really Clary, I can't thank you enough, but unfortunately, I must go soon, I'm supposed to be in New York for the Today show tomorrow morning, and apparently I've already missed one flight and the meeting with the stylist."

"Uhoh, not the stylist." I kid, dramatically.

"You think it's funny, but I haven't been allowed to dress myself for ages." He says, laughing. He's clearly in no rush to go and at the same time knows he must, we sit eating together for another ten or fifteen minutes before we both finish. I get up to clear the dishes and he follows me into the kitchen carrying the wine glasses, thanking me again for all of my hospitality and good company. "I've really enjoyed myself this afternoon, it was great to just relax and chat." He says almost as if to himself. "Easy, I have felt this normal in ages."

"Not a problem," I say for the umpteenth time this afternoon, "it was fun just hanging out, you're welcome anytime." I respond knowing full well just how unlikely he is to take me up on that offer.

"We should keep in touch," Jace says, "it's just, this has been really nice, a welcome break from the chaos. I sort of feel like I've known you for a long time, I think we could be good…friends." He says awkwardly after a brief pause.

I know exactly what he means, but I'm not sure how to respond. "Sure, I know exactly what you mean." I say, taking his iPhone from his hand and adding my contact info. "don't be a stranger." I say lightly, smiling as I hand back his phone. As he steps into the bathroom to change back into his semi-damp clothes.

He offers to help with the dishes, but I tell him not to be ridiculous, we both know he needs to be on his way. He calls a cab and dries dishes until we hear the cabbie honk the horn. Neither of us is sure how to say goodbye, there's an awkward pause and I decide he's a friend, I always hug my friends goodbye. I lean in and it's not awkward at all, in fact it's sort of a perfect fit, he gives me a squeeze and I tell again him not to be a stranger. As he walks out my door I wonder if he's also walking out of my life.

I hope not.