Kendall thought he could take it. He thought that he could buckle in and focus on work. In a new position. On the other side of the world. Over six thousand miles away from the one person who kept his life together.

The first few months in Shanghai were a tough transition. Before Jess had taken leave, she had set regular appointments for him with a personal addiction specialist and a therapist, and her plans had kept him together. He had assumed she would check in with him from time to time—she had always checked in on him-but there was no contact. Kendall would go through the ritual regularly: check the email, the messages, the second email, ask Kerry. He did this for the first few weeks, but soon realized it was useless.

And Kerry was no fair replacement.

The thing with Jess was that, even in the beginning of her employment, she was preternaturally good at anticipating him. She very quickly became in sync with his thoughts and needs. Every day at 8 am, she would assume his life, and then shed it at 6 that evening. Then it became 7. Then 8 pm…until she was texting him after hours to ensure his safety when no one else would.

Then it was the desert.

And now, his safety net had been swiped. Kendall found himself calling Kerry "Jess" in moments here and there throughout the day, which Kerry dutifully ignored. Jess' image wound its way into his mind's eye at night as he lay in bed alone; he would close his eyes and think of her until his body succumbed to sleep. While feeling particularly weak one day, he made the mistake of calling his father.

"So—uh—I think—" Kendall stammered, "that maybe San Francisco could be a smart spot to—uh—set up a new shop. Close to Silicon—"

"Ken—you're not coming home until—"

"—Close to Silicon Valley," Kendall continued speaking in order to find momentum, "and we'd have a stronger Pacific Coast presence—closer to Asian markets—"

"Where did this come from?" His father's voice was eerily calm on the other end of the line.

"I—I just think that it's an untapped—"

"And the private jet to California in April? What the hell was that for?"

"Dad—I think we can afford—"

"I don't care what you do with mistresses or—"

"Dad, it's not—" Kendall's cheeks reddened in spite of being alone.

"—just don't put it on the company dime! I'm tired of hearing chatter from our fucking accountants. You've already cost me a pretty penny this year."

"Dad, it was for a very important—" Kendall's voice rose, girding himself for a trans-pacific fight.

"-It's about the principle, it's about the money."

It wasn't about the money.

"Dad—"

"—Fuck off."

Kendall set the phone down on his desk, pushing away the nagging feeling that he couldn't shake: his father talked like a man in billions in debt for a billionaire.

Shanghai was proving to be an insurmountable challenge—the culture shock, the language barriers, his cravings—why was he here? He felt isolated and overwhelmed, rudderless. He grabbed his phone again and scrolled through his messages. The last text he sent to Jess was about accommodations during the scouting trip three months ago. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, willing his mind to recall the memory of her removing her sunglasses after her brother's memorial service, just to see her face again. His thumbs hovered over the screen of their text conversation. He had so much to tell her, so much he wanted her to know, but somehow, he couldn't push himself to even shoot her a small-talk text. He didn't want to do the work of reaching out, discussing difficult, messy things. He just wanted her to appear, to fall in step, to be with him. Instead of the conference call he was about to go on with seven people whose languages he did not speak, he wished he could be wrapped up in her arms on a couch on another fucking planet.

Jess' time spent in California was a welcome break. She helped her mother in the garden, she cooked dinner, she caught up on all the reading she had been meaning to do in New York. She wore jeans every day. Every now and then Kerry would text her, usually to clarify something or for a password. But never anything from Kendall. To be fair, she didn't reach out either. What would be the reason? Every time she thought of him, she felt her brain tie itself in knots.

"All right—there's something going on," her mother finally declared one morning over their muesli.

"With what?" Jess focused on shoveling some food into her mouth.

"With you—honey," her mother reached across the table for her hand; Jess was always irritated how touchy-feely she always was, "you seem distracted. All the time. Usually you're quite mindful, present—"

"Mom—"

"—Listen," Sharon retracted her hand and sat back in her seat, "Aunt Rita mentioned that ATN has started running several stories about the opioid epidemic."

"You've been talking to Aunt Rita about cable news?" Jess asked quizzically, "how'd that go?"

"She said she started to notice," Sharon gave a sigh, "after Michael…"

"Yeah, Mom," Jess commented with a soaking bitterness in her voice, "it's an epidemic—"

"Yes," her mother said slowly, patiently, "I know that. It just seems… sudden—according to her, that is. A departure from their usual schlock."

Jess shrugged. "He's had some addiction issues himself—he probably thought it would be important to highlight."

Her mother took a beat to take the information in; everything was getting clearer.

"I see." Sharon scrapped her initial question, paused, and continued with a careful tone, "I know you were disappointed about China—"

"Mom—"

"But I think it's probably for the best—"

"Mom—"

"That family is dangerous—"

"You don't understand—"

"Oh, don't I?" Sharon raised one eyebrow—an arched eyebrow that Jess had known all too well, "they aren't singlehandedly responsible for the lies that pervade the media? I knew that when you took that job—"

"Mom—"

"—capitalist pigs—"

"Mom—what do you really want to say?"

"The way he looked at you Jess."

"What—what do you mean?"

Sharon paused.

"Oh my god, Mom, stop."

"I don't want to say," Sharon sighed again, "a cliché and hope that you take my maternal advice. But working for this family is enough—"

"I'm not working for the family," she persisted as she stabbed her spoon at the soggy muesli in her bowl, "I'm working for—"

"Kendall Roy, then?" her mother finished.

"Mom, it's a job. A well-paying, solid job that might offer more opportunities—"

"—at what cost?"

"What are you insinuating?"

"What does he expect in return?"

"What are you—Mom," Jess exhaled, exasperated, "He's not like that."

"I'm only going to say this once," Sharon's voice was steady, firm, "but you need to tread carefully with this. Jess, if anything—"

"I can handle it."

"Honey, you're strong," Sharon softened, "but this past year has not been easy."

"…I know," Jess said, "which is why I'm here."

"But Jack—"

"He reached out once, Mom, about Michael—"

"He sent that fruit basket—"

"Mom, we're not getting back together."

Sharon paused and studied her daughter. "Then what is it that you want?"

Jess was silent for a long moment, inhaling once before making up her mind. "I want to go to China."

The decision to go to China was not hard, but leaving her mother was. But the past five months had been time together—time that they hadn't spent in over ten years. It had been good to reconnect. Nevertheless, Sharon drove Jess to SFO at four a.m. on a chilly morning in October, and the hug lasted thirty seconds.

Kerry had been in close contact, and, though she wouldn't have wanted to admit it to anyone, was wholly relieved that Jess was coming to China. These past few months had not been easy to navigate. But according to Jess' orders, she was to keep her arrival from Kendall completely—but she didn't know why.

Kerry had learned not to ask.

It was a Tuesday when Jess had touched down at Pudong, and the air was thick. She felt a fluttering in her stomach that wouldn't stop. The car ride over to the office—she was going straight to the office after a twelve-hour flight—seemed to last as long as the flight. She found it hard to swallow. Six months away from a person who had been her entire life for the better part of a year. What words were there to say upon reunion?

Jess couldn't think of any. No witticisms, no quips. Her eyes widened in general anxiety as she stared out the car window at the streets of Shanghai. She felt awkward and raw. Her stomach flipped.

The elevator shot up the middle of the building at incredible speed. Jess felt that if it stopped suddenly, she'd be suspended in air for a moment.

The lobby of the 68th floor was white marble. All white, smooth rock. Her heels made a strident sound across the floor as she walked, keeping her head held high, smoothing her hair, balancing her carry-on across her back with her roller trailing behind her; she started to plan her entrance. A dramatic return, filled with sweeping emotion and grandeur. A welcoming committee? Jess turned into the office suite at a clip and as she came around the corner, she slammed right into Kendall.

He burst forth with a whispered, startled curse, but swiftly his anger turned to shock.

"Hi…" Jess breathed with a short smile and a fleeting wince as her carry-on slumped off of her shoulder.

Kendall blinked twice, his mouth agape; he recovered, using all of his faculties to keep his heart from leaping forth from his chest.

"Jess!" Her name felt so good.

"You said," she began, straightening her back, "that my job would be ready for me when I returned?"

Kendall nodded, threatening a smile.

A deep pause. Kendall turned from wherever he had intended to go – he had forgotten at this point – and ushered her back to his office.

"Of course," he continued, scrounging together the ability to pretend to be normal, "of course. How is your family? Your mom?"

"She's…hanging in there," Jess said, "how have you been?"

The circles under his eyes seemed heavy.

He settled on a response after a moment: "good… good. Busy."

"Of course," Jess said, "where can I set up?"

"Sure—Kerry?" Kendall called, and the assistant appeared in his doorway, "can we get Jess set up somewhere? Find a spot for her?"

He glanced at Jess with an awkward smile and huffed a stilted laugh, "on the moon, maybe?"

Jess pursed her lips to keep from laughing.

"And get her bags delivered to—"

"Yeah, just let me know where to send them," Kerry cut in, obviously already embroiled in another task, and did not veil her annoyance at being interrupted. Jess followed Kerry to her new cubicle, which was within Kendall's line of sight; he cleared his throat as she left.

"We're so glad you're back," Kerry mentioned as Jess got settled, "we're…really glad you're here."

Jess nodded slightly at her colleague, "it's been tough?"

"Yeah…yeah."

Jess nodded again, producing her laptop from her bag and powering it on. "Well, let's right this ship, shall we?"

After some convincing, Kendall got Jess to go out to dinner that night at Oha—an upscale fusion restaurant in the Former French Concession. Jess mentioned during dinner that she had obtained a rental not too far from there.

"Oh—you should've reached out," Kendall said in a tone that Jess perceived as being either slightly nervous or oddly aggressive, "there are a bunch of places where I am—West Nanjing… you should've reached out."

"I'm sorry—I didn't—" She felt a twinge of guilt about not reaching out for all those months. Kendall seemed sad? Still nervous? She realized she was out of practice at reading him.

"My place is big, too," Kendall started to ramble, "so much space, actually—Rava was going to bring the kids out for Thanksgiving, but… that's not happening… so I have a lot of space…"

Jess nodded, "mmhmm."

"You could…er," Kendall took a sip of sparkling water, "so where—where are you staying?"

"On Damuqiao Road," she answered, "nice setup, from the pictures, at least."

"Good, good," Kendall commented as the small talk threatened to swallow him, "are—are you going home for Thanksgiving?"

"My mother was never a fan," she explained, "a colonizer holiday, she calls it."

"I see," Kendall's mouth twisted downward into a half smile, "so we can't count on your mom as an ATN viewer, can we?"

"No, but I guess ATN doesn't really have a corner on the Northern California ex-hippie New Age Boomer demographic, do they?"

"Not yet," Kendall countered, "so she must have thoughts on you working for us, no?"

Jess inhaled once, "well, yes."

Kendall waited for her to continue. When she didn't, he shifted in his chair uncomfortably.

"She—she has her concerns," Jess finished diplomatically, "but my Aunt Rita is a viewer."

"Is she?"

"She mentioned… that ATN started running a lot of stories regarding the opioid epidemic?"

"Uh huh."

"Pretty recently."

"Yeah…"

"She said she found that interesting, given what our family has been through—the timing, that is."

"Right, right," Kendall nodded, "I…had mentioned to Eva that it would be something that ATN may want to highlight since… it affects so many families."

Jess bit her lip and then took a sip of her drink. It was strong.

"Listen, Jess," he said, "I'm—I'm glad you're back. It's good to have you back in the fold. It hasn't been easy out here. I—I realized how much …how much I…"

"I'm glad to be back."

Kendall had insisted on an eight-course tasting menu. Jess, who had never been one to turn down a chef-curated meal, had to admit that it had been the best food she'd ever had. And as they caught up, they could not help but smile. They could not help but feel at ease once again. They could not help but feel—

"I'm exhausted—" Jess stifled a yawn, "I've been awake for more than a day—"

"Sure—of course," Kendall raised his hand for the check, "I believe I should have a car waiting—"

"Yes," Jess checked her phone, "he's just outside. He'll take you back—I'm not too far; I can walk."

"No, I'll walk with you—" Kendall scribbled his signature on the bill, "I'll see you to your door."

He cringed inwardly.

Jess pursed her lips to keep from smiling. She decided Kendall's low-key care-flirting could only be described as awkward Victorian-adjacent.

"I've navigated some dark city streets in my time," she countered carefully, "but I would appreciate the company."

There had been a cool rain that had swept in a cold front. The wind eased through the eaves and peaks of the buildings around them. It was late; the city was still humming around its corners, but Kendall and Jess walked quietly in step. She kept her eyes trained on her phone and the numbers on the buildings, and he kept stealing glances in her direction. The weight that he had borne on his chest for the past six months had been so easily lifted with her mere presence.

"Here it is," she declared with a hint of tired triumph in her voice, "thanks for walking me."

As if on cue, the SUV to whisk Kendall back to his penthouse came rolling down the street; Jess must've texted for it, he estimated. Her hand hovered over the keypad by the door, ready to punch in the code to get in and finally get to sleep. Kendall stood a few feet from her, on a lower step.

"Hey Jess," Kendall called to her as she eased the door open.

"Yeah?" She glanced at him over her shoulder cordially, anticipating a question about tomorrow's meeting schedule or something similar.

"I know," he started, stopped, and began again, "I know you didn't have to come. I know—you probably would rather be in California—"

"—No, Kendall," Jess cut in softly and stepped down from the doorway to be level with his eyes. "I want to be here."

Jess waited a moment, as if she wanted to say more, but elected to stay silent. She uttered a quiet good night to him.

Kendall watched her go inside and stayed there, standing on the sidewalk, for a few minutes, the SUV idling behind him patiently. He stood there, frozen in hazy contemplation.

"Fuck," he breathed after the silence, "fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

Jess woke early the next day, still jet lagged, and got to the office by seven. She began to boil water for Kendall's cup of French Press. A nice surprise, she figured; Jess had made sure to send a new French Press to the office before her arrival. Kerry trotted in swiftly, producing a Chemex from the cabinet.

Kerry grumbled under her breath, "took four fucking months for me to get this right."

"What—the coffee?"

"Yeah—it's…been a whole thing…" she said as she ground the beans, "was he always so particular?"

"Not always," Jess commented, "you're making a cup for Kendall? I was—"

"Oh yeah—he's all about the Chemex these days. Do you think there's enough water in the kettle for this cup?"

"Oh-yeah," Jess watched as Kerry retrieved a mug from the shelf, "I was actually going to make a cup for him, but—I guess I'll make myself one."

In that moment Jess had to remind herself that she had been gone—completely removed—from Kendall for six months. Things of course would have changed, even if they were small changes, like coffee.

For the rest of the day, Jess played catch up. And as she navigated the new office and its differences, Kendall had seemed to do a 180 in regard to his attitude; she was so sure he was fighting himself the night before not to grab onto her and draw her close, but now, this morning, he assumed a measured demeanor—a striking difference. And then, over the next few weeks, he grew distant.

Maybe, Jess concluded, it was for the best. Her mother was right—as usual: to be deeply involved with a Roy—her boss, no less—would not only kill her professional reputation but possibly her personal one as well. Jess was the only one in this scenario who had anything to lose. Kendall, on the other hand, stood to lose nothing.

But it was in this time—this period of awkward distance, in spite of feeling his gaze on her whenever she entered a room—that Jess found she could not stop thinking about him. Of course, Jess thought of Kendall during much of her day. Her entire job revolved around him and his wants and needs. But now, she found that she was thinking about him when she did not need to, she found that she was searching for him, checking to see if she could lock eyes with him—which happened often.

But all the while she kept her face firm, wearing a mask of utmost professionalism; she had too much to lose. The tugging, deep inside, grew stronger. Still, she operated as if nothing were unusual.

Did not miss one step.

It was after weeks of distance, of short, clipped utilitarian conversations and exchanges, that Kendall appeared at her desk one Wednesday. It was late afternoon and a light fog began to roll into the city, enshrouding the building in a haze of mist. The lights below were diffused and murky.

"Hey," he started.

Jess had her eyes trained on the screen before her, setting up a meeting for Friday with investors.

"Hey," she responded promptly.

"So…tomorrow…"

Jess stopped typing and looked up at him. His eyes were focused, and the shift was jarring; Kendall's gaze bore into her; he stood there, looking at her, seeing her. He could only cover up his longing for so long—and he had reached his breaking point.

"Tomorrow—" she quickly turned back to her screen and scanned the schedule for the next day, "—it's—Thanksgiving—"

"So—dinner? At 6, say?"

"Oh—" she stammered a bit; Jess had initially made plans with Kerry and Lance to go experience Shanghai's nightlife, to get super drunk and have fun in a city she had yet to truly explore.

"If you can't—"

"No—no, I can." Jess corrected quickly, but Kendall felt deflated for a moment. Perhaps his hunch was right—perhaps this was a major mistake.

"OK—" he said anyway, "I'll—I'll see you then."

"What should I bring-?" She called to him as he turned to go.

"Um—" he hesitated, and fell over some thoughts in his mind, "just—uh—just you."