Liza Miller awakened to the sound of her 8am alarm and reached for her phone. This was later than her usual wake-up since yesterday had been so long. Thank goodness for Saturdays. She closed her eyes and sighed, remembering how busy she was working two jobs. Her own and Charles's while he was away. Kelsey had moved to Los Angeles, so the Millennial imprint of Empirical publishing was languishing, at least, she thought so. A new editor had started, but the learning curve was steep trying to understand the brand. Liza tried to help, but frankly, right now she did not have the time. Still, they spent time every day going over past releases, current projects, brand philosophy, Empirical and Millennial historical timelines, and the future of the imprint.

The rest of the day had been back-to-back meetings with investors, staff meetings, conference calls, reviewing books at various stages, and other daily chaos. Not until after 8pm was she finally able to sit at her desk and work on her own projects, staying till she could barely keep her eyes open. That was when she decided to come here instead of going home. The train to Brooklyn took almost an hour, whereas to the Upper East Side it took twenty-five. Although she could have called a car the way upper management did; she was certainly entitled to that perk right now and Diana encouraged it, she had not thought about it until she was already in bed and decided to stay put. She was going back to the office today anyway. Charles being out of town for another few weeks meant this was convenient, albeit, full of memories. That is why she slept in the guest room. No landmines here, although it was the room Pauline stayed in during her and Charles's trial reconciliation. Maybe he could call it his exes' room or outcast central or something, she thought, with a touch of poignant truth.

Liza had recently stayed in this room while watching Nicole and Bianca, too. Pauline lived nearby and was trying to meet publishing deadlines and asked for help. The girls missed their old friend and babysitter, so Liza said yes. Lunch, followed by shopping, and later, not knowing what else to do with them, brought them here. Taking them to Brooklyn was not an option. Maggie, her BFF and roommate was a fun gal, but you never knew what, or who, might be happening at the loft they shared. They fixed dinner after their busy day and watched a fun movie. Sleeping in their old bedrooms again was a thrill too. Pauline was grateful for the time to concentrate on her book, Liza loved seeing the girls, and the girls enjoyed their day. Everyone was happy.

She checked her emails before putting the phone down and rubbed sleep out of her eyes, trying to wake up. A quick shower before heading back to midtown then going home was her plan. Rolling out of bed, she stretched, opened the door and walked into the hallway yawning, pushing hair out of her face.

"Good morning," said a deep and familiar voice.

Liza's eyes flew open, startled to see Charles standing feet away looking unbelievably fresh this early and dressed casual for a Saturday. He smiled pleasantly and did not seem surprised to find her standing in his house.

"OMG, Charles, w-wh-what are you doing here!? You are not supposed to be here!"

"Things wrapped up early and I got home late last night. You were already asleep," lowering his chin and raising an eyebrow looking her over.

Liza was mortified and felt awkward standing in the hallway. A futile attempt to regain modesty began by pulling on her shirt to cover herself, lifting her legs as if by magic they would fit underneath. Equal parts amusement and puzzlement at her gyrations showed on his face. Remembering the bathroom was steps away, she dashed towards it raising her voice and trying to say with authority –

"I'm g-going in here," and shut the door behind her.

Shaky and nervous she placed her hands on the quartz countertop trying to catch her breath. What was he doing here?! Granted, besides the fact that this was his house, and she was the interloper, not him. Looking in the mirror rolling her eyes and groaning, she ran a hand down her face in cringey embarrassment and humiliation. What a bad idea. She wanted to look amazing, not to mention professional, when she saw him again after six weeks, and this certainly was not that. No worse than he had ever seen her, but still, not her best look.

She set about to make herself presentable before leaving the bathroom. She would apologize for staying here, leave the house and never return. Maybe the earth would swallow her whole before she got downstairs. She opened a drawer, pulled out a brush and began using it, then borrowing an elastic hair tie pulled everything into a high ponytail.

Afterwards, she cracked the door to see if the coast was clear. Not seeing him anywhere, she scuttled back to the bedroom, shut the door, and started getting dressed. She made the bed and threw his old shirt in a drawer. Out of sight, out of mind. He never came in this room so maybe he would forget she had been wearing it.

She walked over to the top of the stairs. Noises were coming from the kitchen below. She closed her eyes, squared her shoulders, exhaled a long, deep breath, and took the first step down.

The band was warming up. Time to face the music.


I promise, dialogue between them is coming. Chapter 3 is already written and is almost all dialogue.