Phyllis stared up at the ceiling. She'd seen every hour go by tonight. The city that never sleeps was certainly living up to its name. At first she'd blamed the new surroundings, the different bed, the new condo, the streetlights and sounds, but she'd been fooling herself. It wasn't what had changed that was the problem—it was what had remained the same.

Fifty-seven days. That's how long it had been since she'd seen him. She'd hoped at some point the time would simply begin to slip by without notice, but that moment had yet to happen. Sometimes when she walked down a busy street, she'd see someone that reminded her of him and she'd stop short, drawn to a mere memory.

"This too shall pass," she whispered, repeating her new mantra out loud—this new practice now serving as a mini version of a personal pep rally. The comforter was warm and cozy and she pulled it up tighter around her body, waiting to feel comfortable and safe, but she didn't. Instead she felt antsy and at odds. Her mind had been fighting the battle since the moment she'd seen the envelope in the mailbox.

"It's a charity event," Michael repeated, glancing at Lauren across the room and raising his hands in frustration. He'd tried to warn her sending the invitation would elicit just this type of response.

"Michael—you know no one wants to see me there."

"That's not true. I want to see you. Lauren wants to see you and…." He let the words hang in the air. It wasn't that he necessarily approved of the relationship, but watching how Billy had gone into full fledged mourning after she left had given him a new perspective on the two of them as a couple.

"Stop it," Phyllis quickly countered, trying not to even consider the possibility. It was a dangerous concept to allow herself to even think about him, much less to hope that he'd be happy to see her. "I just..I don't think it's a good idea."

"So what? You're never gonna visit? So your marriage didn't work out—that doesn't make you some kind of town pariah. You have a right to come back and visit your friends and your family. We miss you. Besides, it's for a really good cause. We're raising money for the children's charity. My law firm is sponsoring it."

Phyllis sighed. "I wish I could—honestly. If I didn't think it would be so damn awkward. It's just the minute people see me they're not gonna be thinking about the charity or raising money or anything else except the reason I left and why I came back."

"They might not even recognize you. After all, it's a Masquerade Ball for New Year's Eve. Everyone's going to be in a festive mood. They'll be drinking and dancing. We're even doing a bachelor's auction. You might meet someone." He heard the scoff over the phone. "Oh come on…Guys would kill to land a woman like you."

"Right—I'm a real catch." She slumped into the oversized chair, running her fingers over the raised lettering on the invitation. "Listen, I'll think about it, ok?"

Michael smiled as he nodded at Lauren. "I'll take it," he said cheerfully. "Let me know when you'll be flying in. I want to meet you at the airport."

"Michael, I never said I…" She groaned as she realized the line was dead. With a heavy sigh, she stood up, laying the invitation on the bed side table and looking out the window over the bustling city streets. Maybe she could go back and visit. Some time had passed. Maybe people had moved on—maybe people wouldn't hold her in such contempt.

She walked across the room, opening a drawer and pulling out the comfortable pajamas she now donned every night. Maybe she would go. Maybe it wouldn't hurt so much to see him again. Slowly, she pulled the zipper down the back of her dress. Either way, It couldn't hurt worse than not seeing him, could it?

Phyllis groaned in frustration, throwing the comforter off and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She shoved her feet into the slippers and padded across the darkened room, quickly switching on the table lamp that sat beside the desk. Her fingers moved quickly over the keyboard as she typed and began to research potential flights. She'd never been one to miss a good party. Why the hell would she start now?

Billy stared at the album, the leather cover still shiny, still seemingly new. He flipped through the pages slowly. The pictures seemed to mock him. There were wedding pictures, pictures from holidays, from birthdays, a few vacations. When he studied his face, he could see happiness there and, even now, he remembered being happy with Victoria and his children. He remembered what that felt like, but that's what it was—a memory. He could look down at the photo and remember the way things used to be, back when he believed this was perfection, back when he thought this was the best dream ever, back before he knew here, before he'd experienced what they were together.

He had no pictures to remember them by. There was nothing tangible for him to hold, nothing to stare at and remember. The only thing that remained of them were his thoughts, his recollections, his mind's tortured of visions and dreams. What he wouldn't give for something, anything to hold—to remember.

She'd been gone nearly a week before he'd found out..after he'd overheard an intern at Jabot talking about converting her office back into a file room. He'd wandered back up to the Brash and Sassy conference room as he tried to process how she could simply disappear from his life without so much as a goodbye. What's worse is he had no one to talk to about any of this. She had always been his sounding board—the one he took his problems to and now that he needed someone, perhaps more than he ever had, she was gone.

His eyes fell to the invitation on the table and he slammed the album down on top of it. No doubt his preoccupation with Phyllis' sudden departure played a large role in his agreement to go to this stupid ball and a much larger role in agreeing to take part in this stupid bachelor's auction. Jill had approached him shortly after he came into the office that day. Talking to her about anything was more than he could handle on a good day and, on a day like that day—after having just been slapped in the face by life, it was simply not an option. He would have said anything to shut her up and, as it turns out, he did.