He's sitting on his couch, nursing his scotch. His phone starts ringing. He carefully sits his drink on the coffee table. He throws cushions, tosses jackets, and digs in the couch for the phone. Finally he finds it between the couch cushions. By the time he gets to it, it has stopped ringing. He sighs, and checks the screen. He dials his voicemail.

A familiar voice comes begins to speak, "I got a call from Betty earlier, she's really worried about you. Don't do anything stupid, while I'm not there to kick your ass," the message ends. He saves it, and plays it two more times. On the third time he struggles with tears, and anger. He picks up his drink. It feels warm as he forces the rest of it down his throat. He takes the glass and chucks it against the wall. It shatters into pieces. He gets off the couch, and goes into his room. He crawls into bed, and puts a fluffy, feather pillow over his head.

He tosses and turns, and sleep never comes. He returns to the living room, and retrieves his phone. He dials her number. It goes straight to voicemail. He waits for the beep.

"Why did you leave? I want to know the truth. You have to know that I didn't lie to you. There was no one else. I love you, why can't you see that? Maybe I'm just a fool. Why can't you just love me back?" he hangs up the phone.

She can't seem to focus after hearing his message. A few days later she finds herself in a psychologist's office. Her name is called, and she goes into the office. She sits numbly as he asks her questions.

"Tell me what the problem is," he begs.

She plays him the message.

"And how does that make you feel?" he questions.

"What's wrong with me?" she asks.

"I'm sorry?"

"What is wrong with me? Why can't I ever be happy? Maybe I don't deserve it."

"Do you ever think that maybe you're the source of your unhappiness."

"What?"

"You create your own unhappiness. You're the one who walked away aren't you?"

"Yes," she nods.

"Why?"

"I couldn't stay there."

"Why not?"

"I got offered a better job."

"Are you going to go back?"

"I don't know."

"How do you feel about this man?"

"He's irritating, immature, infuriating, and annoyingly persistent."

"Those are all of his qualities?"

"No. He's caring, and kind, and all of that warm fuzzy stuff, it's kind of sickening how nice he's been the past couple of years, since Molly."

"Who is Molly?"

"She was his wife, she died."

"Are you worried that he still loves her?"

"No."

"Do you want to be with him? Do you love him?"

"I don't want to want to be with him. I don't want to love him."

"But you do?"

"I've spent a really long time hating him."

"Why?"

"He never stands up to anyone, not even for himself. He's a coward. I could never be with a coward."

"You can't change that, you can't change him. The only person you can change, is you."

"How is that going to help?"

"Maybe you could be with a coward one day."

"That's never going to happen."

"Running away, coming here, it didn't solve your problems. Putting distance between the two of you doesn't resolve a thing. You need to confront your feelings."

"You don't understand. I hate this man, but I have feelings for him."

"Then love him, or let him go."

He stands in front of the reception area in a daze.

"Can I help you?" she asks him.

He takes a step forward, "Yes, I'm looking for Wilhelmina Slater."

"I'm sorry she's not in right now," the receptionist informs him.

"Do you know when she'll be back?"

"She's going to be out of the office for the next two days."

"Oh, I see."

"I can leave her a message if you'd like."

"That's not necessary."

"What's your name?"

"Daniel."

"I'll tell her that you stopped by," she answers.

"No. Don't," he responds.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I don't think that she wants to see me anyway," he admits.

"Ok," the receptionist agrees.

He leaves the reception area, and gets onto the elevator. He returns to the airport and waits on the next flight back across the pond. Two hours later he boards his flight.

The receptionist's head lifts when she hears Wilhelmina's heels coming toward her. She stares at her in confusion.

"I thought that you were going to be out of the office for the next two days."

"I'm just coming to get my laptop, I forgot to grab it last night," she admits.

"Oh."

"Any messages for me?"

"No," she shakes her head, and bites her lip.

"Something you want to tell me?"

"Someone was looking for you, he told me not to tell you."

"What did he look like?"

"He was pasty and...I think he said his name was David, no, not David. It started with a D. It was Daniel."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Claire storms into his office. She flips the light on.

"What are you doing sitting in the dark? You can't hide from the entire world Daniel."

"Mom, don't."

"Where the Hell have you been? You disappear for over a day, and no one can get a hold of you. It would be nice if you'd let someone know before you just disappear."

"I had something to take care of."

"Did you get it taken care of?"

"No."

"So will you be disappearing again?"

"No."

"Where did you go?"

"London."

"Did you see her?"

"No."

"You went all the way over there, and you didn't even see her?"

"She wasn't in. She was out of the office for the weekend."

"So you just left?"

"What else was I going to do?"

"Call her. Tell her that you were there."

"So it sounds like I'm desperately stalking her? I don't think so."

"Daniel grow up, stop being such an idiot."

"Thanks for you support, Mom."