The next morning, Alan woke up to a fresh cup of coffee on the nightstand. He checked his watch and saw that he was up with enough time to be in the office without a complaint from anyone who mattered. He looked across the rumpled bedsheets to where Rosalie had been sleeping and found her side empty, and when he looked further the bathroom mirror was lightly misted where she must have had a shower. A pleasant breeze was blowing through the bedroom windows, and he realized how much he had missed sharing space with someone who wanted to make things nice.

Walking through to the lounge, he stopped in the doorway to watch Rosalie with a smile. She was sat cross-legged in one of his shirts marking papers, with pencils scattered everywhere; one in her hair holding up a loose bun, one above her ear, and one poised in her mouth as she followed the text with a fingernail. She was muttering the words she was reading to herself with a furrowed brow, and removed the pencil from her mouth to circle something and write a comment.

"How many times Tyler, Caligula was not 'the dudemeister'," she sighed to herself, tipping her head back in frustration. As she did so, she saw Alan and smiled. "Oh, good morning."

"You're an early riser," he replied, walking towards her to tip her chin and kiss her.

"I had things to do. Carpe diem and all that." She kissed him, sitting up on her knees to run a hand up his chest. "What time are you leaving?"

"Late if you carry on like this."

"Don't worry, I'll let you off this morning." She grinned and gestured to the large dresser. "I ordered some breakfast for you. I needed stronger coffee to read this drivel."

"Thank you. That's… very thoughtful of you." He walked over and picked up a cream cheese bagel. "What are your plans for today?"

"I thought I'd get a couple of these out of the way," she said patting the pile of paper next to her, "and then maybe head to the office and try to see Denny."

"Does he know you're in Boston?" Alan bit into the bagel with a crunch.

"No. I didn't want to say anything in case I, uh, chickened out."

"I wouldn't recommend surprising him again. It makes him insecure."

"You think I should call?"

"I could tell him you're here, but I think that might also come without recommendation." Rosalie tapped the pencil against her lower lip and nodded.

"I'll go tomorrow. Call today and go tomorrow. That seems better." Alan sipped his coffee pensively, before draining it and putting the cup on the dresser.

"I'm going to take a shower and then I'd better get going. I sincerely hope that on my return you're going to be doing something deeply, deeply inappropriate."

In Denny's office later, Alan sat rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He wondered why Denny had called him in.

"Alan, do you remember my daughter?" Alan looked up as Denny walked in the door.

"In a manner of speaking."

"Can I tell you something? I forgot I invited her to the party. I feel like an idiot."

"I'm sure she won't have minded. She left, sure, but I didn't get the impression all bridges were burned."

"She called me Denny. She never did that, even as a kid. It was always Dad." Denny looked a little sadly out of the window. "I sent her some flowers, but I didn't hear anything back."

"Maybe they got lost in the mail. Don't worry so much Denny, I can't imagine she's angry with you. She seems far too clever for that."

"She's very clever. She's a professor at Columbia – ancient gay people or something." Alan smiled slightly. By Denny's standards that was almost exactly what he meant.

"Why did you never mention her before?"

"She doesn't need me in her life anymore. Her life is full – she has a good job, friends, peers, a husband… what does she need an old fool like me around for?"

"She's married?" Alan tried to hide his surprise.

"Oh yes, some academic. They're very in love. The wedding was wonderful, I met the most beautiful woman… Cheryl." Denny smiled dreamily, and Alan knew he had lost him to the memory of an old conquest.

"Well, she seems like a wonderful woman Denny. Maybe you should consider trying to win her back."

Alan arrived back at the suite to find Rosalie upside down on the couch, legs curled over the back of the cushions and her head in a book. From her laptop some ambient music was playing and there were multiple empty cafetieres on the dresser. She had changed into some sweatpants and a T-shirt, with her hair still in a messy bun held in with pencils.

"You're married?" Rosalie jumped, dropping her book and scrambling to pause her laptop.

"Jesus, you scared me."

"And you didn't tell me you're married."

"Well, that's because I'm not. Not anymore, anyway." She sat up and brushed hair from her face, flushed from where the blood had rushed to her head. "You've spoken to my dad."

"I have."

"And he told you about my wedding?"

"It came up in conversation."

"I never come up in conversation."

"Well your marriage did." Rosalie sighed and patted the cushion next to her, but Alan wasn't to be deterred. "Are you still married?"

"No, we divorced three years ago. Turns out his research partner had plenty of things for him to work late on. Our marriage wasn't one of them. It's funny, for a scientist he never really considered the varying probabilities of his actions." Alan paused, temporarily thrown. He had been expecting her to lie to him, tell him it was all over but the look in her eyes would say otherwise, and he would be justified in hurting her.

"Ah… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been unreasonable. Please accept my apologies." Unbuttoning his suit jacket, he came and sat next to her. "I don't know why I reacted like that. It seems I'm quite drawn to you."

"It wasn't a secret Alan. You never asked, just like I've never asked you." She rubbed his back gently. "Maybe next time you're staring at my naked body you could pay attention to my ring finger for just one moment?" She waggled the finger slowly to show there were no engagement or wedding rings.

"I suppose I always expect the worst so it won't hurt so much when it happens." He grabbed her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist.

"And there was me thinking it was you trying to cross-examine me," she said with a grin. "Now, if you're going to come home in the middle of the day, disrupt my work and insult me, can I at least expect make up sex?"

With Alan having returned to the office, Rosalie smoked a cigarette and took time to reflect on the events of the last weeks. Her surprise at being invited to a party by her father, her humiliation when he'd spoken down to her, her shame when she realized why he'd been so confused. Of course, there had been some positives in the form of Alan Shore. She knew his type. Columbia was full of lawyers with big egos and even bigger sex drives. There was something different about him too, though; he had humility and a softness she hadn't seen in anyone for a long time. For him to have been so upset about Larry he must care at some level. She supposed she must too. After all, when he had sat bolt upright in bed last night with the beginnings of a night terror, she had done all she could to calm him down. She had caressed his back, lightly kissed his cheek and neck, whispered to him that he was safe and it was alright. It seemed to have worked because he hadn't mentioned it to her that morning. But the real reason she had been up so early was because she was concerned about him, and that was the thing which required the most reflection. Sighing to herself, she sat back down on the couch, flipped herself upside down, and picked up her book.