Emma drops me off at the new studio, and as I walk in a blue uniform catches my eye. The mailman is standing by the desk with a large envelope, alone. "Can I help you?" I ask.

He nods, "Thank God. Where is everyone?" Shaking his head, he thrusts the parcel at me and hands me a pen. "I was about to leave, but this needs a signature."

"Thanks for waiting for me. I know you didn't have to and I really appreciate it." I smile at him and his gruff curtness seems to melt despite my appearance. I'm sure I look like I'm crazy - windblown hair frizzed out along with a cherry glow across the bridge of my nose - but he doesn't seem to notice. It must be part of having a mail route in the Hamptons.

He nods once and says, "Sure thing. Have a good day." He leaves me standing alone in the lobby with a fat envelope.

I've been wondering why there only seems to be three people working here. I've been assuming that I just keep missing the others, especially since Cole said the NYC crew was sent out here, but aside from the first few days, they seem to have disappeared.

I glance down at the letter in my hands. It is from J. H. Hashre, esq., and stamped TIME SENSITIVE MATERIALS ENCLOSED with an "open by" date of today. What is this? Looking at the envelope, I think about opening it, but it is addressed to Cole, not the studio.

As I walk through the building, I flip on lights looking for him. Regina isn't around. She must have finished her work and went to dinner. I stop in the shooting room and look around. Memories of earlier in the day flood my mind. His hands on me, his lips. I want more of that - more of him.

"Miss Lamore," Cole's deep voice echoes through the space. He stands across the way on the other side of the shooting room in an adjoining hallway.

"This came for you. It looks important. Thought you'd want it." I cross the room and place it in his hand. When he looks down at it, he stiffens.

"Thank you." He turns to leave, but I grab his arm. Cole stops and looks down at my hand on his skin.

"Tell me," I demand, my voice firm. I fold my arms over my chest and look at the side of his face. "Tell me how you could do those things, say those things, and then walk away like it meant nothing?"

His eyes meet mine, "Because we don't belong together, Miss Lamore. Because it would be a horrible mistake to do more, to say more, than I already foolishly said. There's no future here," he gestures between us, "nothing to pursue. I apologize for not controlling my tongue. There's no excuse for it."

Each word feels like a barb in my heart. "I see." My voice quivers slightly. I don't understand. How is it a mistake? I have no idea, but from the look in Cole's eyes I can tell there is no way to convince him otherwise. I lower my head and look at the floor, at his bare feet. Cole seems like he can't wait to get away from me. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, looking anywhere - everywhere - but at me.

Finally, I say, "Maybe I should work somewhere else?"

That catches his attention. His brow pinches together, "Did Sottero talk to you?"

"No, Cole. She didn't. I just thought that maybe it would be too awkward to stay here, that I should - "

He shakes his head, "Anna, I won't be here much longer. It's only a few more weeks." He taps the envelope against his thigh and I glance down at it. "I promise that it won't happen again. Regina can show you a lot of what you need to know, and as for your skills - I think you'll be perfect for this position. I really hope you'll stay." As he speaks his voice softens.

"Cole, I don't understand why you want me to work here. There are more qualified people, honestly. And the staff..."

He looks up at me confused, "What about the staff?"

"Where are they? I thought you had more people. When we were in the city, you said they were out here, but now that we're out here, there's just Regina."

His gaze falls to the floor and he breathes in deeply. Shaking his head he says, "There are some things going on, some things that require me to make changes. I made them. And I only kept the best."

"Cole," I whisper his name and see him respond to my voice. I want to touch him, to push his hair back and open that letter than hangs in his hand like a lump of lead. That has something to do with this, I can sense it. But, before I can say anything else, he turns away.

"There's a shoot in the morning," he says. "Better get some rest."