Saturday was always busy at the Library Cafe. Located close to Washington Square Park, the tables filled up quickly, the books removed from the shelves and then returned—but never in their original spots—faster than the employees could put them back, and it was known for its coffee. All this meant that Riley was always busy.

Ever since the death of his wife a year earlier, Allen had taken to spending more time with his children who all lived upstate, leaving Riley to take over much of his duties in balancing the books, ordering supplies and even verifying the paychecks that were all done electronically. It had been Clint's idea to buy into Allen's business, and make Riley part-owner in the process after her near overdose, something more than just showing up for work to serve customers.

It gave Riley purpose and something she could call her own, even if it were only half of the business. At the very least, it gave her a raise, and she didn't need to work two jobs just to make sure all her bills were paid. After all, she lived in Manhattan and had a place of her own, no matter how small.

Though Saturday was her day off, Riley still came in the late afternoons to do the inventory and accounting which meant she always ended up working. But after a night of restless sleep, unable to stop thinking of Ashe and what Paige told her about his girlfriend (who died) and a possible child (whom he never mentioned), she gave up at around five, showered, and dressed. She arrived at the Library Cafe by seven, helping open up the place and get the tables out on the patio.

"You look terrible," Tessa said as she dragged one of the patio umbrellas out but did not open it. It was still nippy out. "Was the foursome that bad?"

"It was exhausting," Riley replied.

"You were babysitting, right?" Tessa asked, unsure. "I mean, it's not like you to be involved in foursomes—"

Riley laughed. "Of course, I was babysitting. I don't have a life, Tess. Look at me; it's my day off, and I'm here when I could be doing something else."

"Personally, I'd be sleeping in if I were you," Tessa said as they returned to the counter. A line of people had formed, and the two baristas were busy.

"I know, but I've got to do some inventory," Riley said.

"Carl and I went to see Sentience last night, by the way," Tessa said, and Riley stopped just before she reached the office door. "It was, like, awesome, Ri! You should see it. Ashe nailed it, and Carl couldn't believe he was in here, and that I got myself a selfie."

"By any chance, did you post it anywhere?" Riley asked, noticing the influx of new faces walking through the door. She usually knew most of the regulars, and today there were simply more customers than she was used to seeing.

"I hope it was okay," Tessa said, her face reddening. "I posted it online."

"Did you tell everyone where you ran into him?"

"Well, yeah, I had to tag it with a location, at least," Tessa said, her face grew even redder. "But it should be good for business, right?"

"Well, you do have a point there. We could always use more business," Riley said. "I'll be in my office if you need me. Allen won't be back until Monday."

It was usually much quieter inside the back office, which was right behind the storage room, but it was a tight squeeze. Square footage always came at a premium in Manhattan, and the Library Cafe was no exception. There was only enough room for a desk, a filing cabinet and a safe where Allen kept loose bills and change, which always made Riley nervous. But ever since she convinced Allen to go digital, using point-of-sale software that also tracked inventory and sales in one report, the only thing they had to worry about these days was making sure the vintage cash register worked. Most sales were made using a mobile app on an iPad that made it easy for customers to include tips if they wanted to.

By ten, the Library Cafe was so loud that Riley could barely hear herself think inside the office. The walls were paper thin, and so she could hear everything everyone was saying, from girls who were talking about some party in the Village that evening to men discussing the virtues of having a beard in the city even if they'd never even gone camping a day in their life.

There was a quick knock on the door and Tessa stuck her head in. "Do you mind weaving your magic out here? Martin needs a break, and if we weren't slammed, we'd be okay—"

"Don't worry, Tess, I'll be right there," Riley said, closing her ledgers and tucking them into the safe so Allen could review them when he returned on Monday. Though modern technology had made running the coffee shop easier, Allen always preferred everything written down the old way, with debits and credits, accounts receivables and payables all on the page, all written by hand.

With Martin taking his break, and the other barista, Janelle, about to take hers, Riley took over the main espresso machine, whipping out the orders as fast as Tessa called them out from the order counter.

Riley had been blending coffee drinks for so long that knowing who preferred what type of bean and which type of espresso came naturally for her. She knew the neighborhood characters well and loved the two-minute stories they told her, from the moment they placed their order and waited, or from the time they knew she'd be making their orders, waiting patiently along the side of the espresso machine. Some of them loved to watch her make each cup, from tamping the coffee to frothing the milk till it gave her the hissing sound she wanted and a few seconds more to get it to the right temperature she needed it to be.

Sometimes, some customers would come up to her directly, bypassing the cashier so they could tell her exactly what they wanted, what type of bean, and even the exact preparation. Though Riley was used to it, what annoyed her the most were the ones who insisted on milk substitutions and then complained that their drink didn't taste the same or the ones who confused hot lattes with cold-blended espressos. They were minor annoyances though it did earn the Library Cafe a few three-star reviews on Yelp because of it.

"I'd like the usual, please, if you still remember what it is," said a voice to her right, between the espresso machine and the glass counter where all the pastries were displayed.

Riley's hand trembled. She dropped the coffee filter on the counter but caught it before it tumbled to the floor.

"Nutella, with a hint of cocoa," she whispered, staring at the dials of the espresso machine in front of her. "Add that to a shot of espresso and then milk."

She couldn't add the secret ingredient, a particular type of liquor because the cafe had no alcohol license—but no one needed to know that. And she wasn't about to give Gareth Roman everything he wanted like she used to.

"That's my girl," Gareth said as he leaned over the counter, a huge grin on his face. He was always known for his boyish grin. It was his trademark and Riley's constant downfall. How quickly she used to fall for those smiles, she thought. How easily they made her give in to him.

"I knew I could count on you to remember what I want," he said. "Do you think you can make me one?"

Riley forced a smile and glanced at him before pretending to look for something beneath the counter. "I think I've got some Nutella in the back somewhere. Where are you sitting? I can have it brought out to you."

"I'll be right here," Gareth said as he pulled the visor of his trucker cap lower over his face. "You know how I love to watch you whip up your concoctions. You were always the best."

Then why did you leave me? She wanted to ask him, but Riley forced herself to keep moving, turning away from the counter to head to the supply room. She stood for a few minutes, sucking air in and out of her lungs and waiting for her heartbeat to return to normal. She forced herself to think of Ashe and his kisses, how tender they were, and how he tasted, minty at first, and then coffee and cream on his lips. She remembered the feel of his arms around her waist, his hand cradling her face.

Think of Ashe, she told herself. Think of that Yorkshire lad and his kisses, and his—oh, right, his dead girlfriend and some kid on the side.

Riley sighed, her shoulders slumping forward. Maybe Paige was right. Maybe Ashe needed a few months to mourn over the girlfriend before even attempting to be with anyone.

"Riley, are you okay?" Tessa asked. "Martin and Janelle are back, and the crowd's died down so we can handle everything from here on. Carl is closing with Ben tonight, so you probably don't need to come back. And tomorrow's schedule is set, too."

"I'm fine. I was just looking for Nutella spread we bought a week ago."

"Um, you've been standing in front of it for the last five minutes," Tessa said, peering at her. "Are you're sure you're okay?"

"I'm all right," Riley said, grabbing the jar from the shelf in front of her.

"That's Gareth Roman out there, isn't it?" Tessa asked in a hushed voice. "I didn't realize you knew him."

Riley nodded. "He, um, likes a specific drink that I used to make a long time ago, before...before he was famous."

"Oh, that's it then," Tessa said. "I asked him if I could make him something, and he said only you could make him his drink. What is it? Do you think you can show me?"

"I'd love to show you, Tess. It's quite easy," Riley said, taking a deep breath. Good, she thought, at least, she wouldn't be alone with Gareth looking at her the way he did just a few minutes ago. Would Riley jump him from over the counter and ravish him? But then, did she even want to?

But if Riley was worried that she'd jump Gareth from behind the counter and ravish him, all the worry was for nothing. She was so focused on trying to remember all the steps that she forgot that he was even there, watching her from the other side of the counter. It didn't help that all the other employees were watching her, too, eager to learn how to make Gareth Roman's favorite Nutella espresso—and even tweet about it.

And Gareth wasn't making things any easier for her. He hammed it up for his audience by telling stories about how he helped Riley come up with this and other coffee drinks when she used to work at the very same place six years ago, at the same time waiting tables at a small restaurant in town.

"I was her loyal taster," he said. "And she is still one of the best baristas in town, hands down. Don't let that innocent face fool you! She's won a few competitions, haven't you, babe?"

Don't you babe me right now, she wanted to scream at him though she forced a sweet, shy smile instead. She even bat her eyelashes.

"So that's how Ashe knows you," Tessa said, giggling. "He was here yesterday ordering her caffé Medici. It all makes sense now."

Gareth's brow furrowed as he turned to look at Riley, who at that moment finished blending his coffee drink and handed it to him in a glass cup that revealed the subtle blending of espresso, milk and Nutella.

"So Ashe does know you. That little liar. He said he didn't," he said. "I could have sworn it was your back I saw online the night we did the press interviews. The same evening he bailed—"

"Drink up," Riley commanded. "Your show's over. And everyone else, get back to work."

There was a groan from Tessa and the rest of the baristas who begged Riley to show them how to do it again, this time so they could taste it. Some of the customers chimed in, too, and twenty minutes later, as Gareth planted himself on the same spot to watch, Riley managed to make three versions of the drink with Tessa, Janelle and Martin able to duplicate her versions the best they could, savoring the nuanced flavors excitedly.

But Riley didn't have to taste it. She'd stopped spreading Nutella on her toast the moment Gareth showed his true colors, though right now, the colors he was showing looked damn appealing. It reminded her of old times when they laughed more than they cried, and when they cuddled all night in bed because their heating bill hadn't been paid on time and the small floor heater was all they could afford. It reminded her of the time when things between them were much simpler. He acted, and she worked. They made love, they loved. But they never fought, and that should have been the red flag for her. There were so many words between them that were never spoken that when words were finally needed, he just left.

Yet here he stood now, in front of her, from across the counter, his grin still the same—only now, it made him millions of dollars, and women swooned. He knew how to work the crowd, and he enjoyed the attention, just like he enjoyed the attention from her when they were together. He was her prince, her knight in shining armor.

Riley excused herself and went to the back so she could wash her hands and get her purse. She needed to get home and maybe spend the rest of the day just reading, or maybe even take a nap. She was tired, and she was beginning to get cranky.

"Are you done for the day?" Gareth asked as she slipped out from behind the counter and waved at the baristas goodbye.

"I am," she said, pushing open the glass door and walking outside. The air was crisp and with October coming to a close, it was starting to get chilly. "Shouldn't you be attending to your adoring public?"

"That's not fair, Riley. There's only one person I want to attend to right now, and that's you," Gareth said as Riley stopped walking and turned to face him. He smiled, his green eyes twinkling from beneath the cap visor, and Riley felt her insides turn to mush. Gareth always had the most expressive puppy-dog eyes that once turned on, it was difficult to turn away. And he had just turned them on full blast.

"Why don't we talk somewhere quiet?" He asked, his eyes probing hers like they used to. Gareth had the greenest eyes she'd ever seen, and a long time ago, Riley used to believe she could see right through them into his soul. God, how wrong she was.

Gareth took her hand and pulled her with him as he walked, and Riley didn't stop him. For three years, all she had wanted to do was talk to Gareth and ask him why he did what he did, and now she had the chance to do that. Maybe this time, even though a part of her was screaming for her to walk the opposite direction and stay away from him as far as she could, she'd finally get her questions answered.

Why did you leave me without telling me what I did wrong? Why did you pay me off, all $20,000 of it, all in cash, like I was some hooker you needed to silence? Why, Gareth, why?