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1. Some restaurant in LAX. Her bag is at her feet, and Bill is walking towards her with two styrofoam cups, and she doesn't know what this is. They talk awkwardly about nothing, and she wonders if breakfast at the airport was a stupid idea, even though his knee bumps against hers perhaps more than is strictly necessary. There's a baby nearby that won't stop crying and a boarding announcement three gates away that seems to go on forever, but when they call her flight he kisses her, just like that, and the business card she was about to hand him drops to the floor.
2. Her Washington office. He makes an appointment to see her without letting her know. It's an ordinary day, and she's coming from one tedious briefing to what she assumes is another, until her assistant hands her an updated schedule and it reads: 'Lunch meeting - Buchanan, CTU'. She catches herself smoothing down her jacket and stops immediately.
3. Bill cooks her lobster for her birthday. She's forty minutes late, and when he opens the door she can tell he thought that she wasn't going to show. He waves away her apologies with a tight smile, and she wonders when she started being able to read him. She walks inside. His house is beautiful. All the candles on the table are burning low. He kisses her cheek and takes her coat, but she feels like she's ruined something. "Bill?" she says, following him into the kitchen. He turns to face her. "It's going to be like this, sometimes," she says, stepping closer. The tips of her fingers are resting against his shirt. Bill doesn't say anything, but he doesn't move away. She doesn't know what else to do, so she kisses him.
4. Room service arrives while they're both still catching their breath. It's a close call. The cart is covered in roses, the Honeymoon Special. Her own hastily-bought bouquet looks small and plastic on the table next to them. Bill almost trips trying to put his pants back on in time, and she rolls her face into the pillow so he can't hear her giggle. She feels like a teenager. The waiter leaves, and Bill turns and grins at her, smiles so wide she'd marry him all over again. She sits up, tucking the sheets around her, and laughs. He walks over, calls her Mrs. Buchanan and kisses her shoulder. She calls him Mr. Hayes and kisses back. She'd thought she'd missed all this for good.
5. A new restaurant on Sunset, to celebrate. Bill won't look her in the eye. She hates that he's upset, even if it's not at her exactly. It's not like they were two ordinary people before they met. "You think I should have turned it down?" she asks, pushing her salmon around her plate. It's dry. The water here is seven dollars a glass. She puts down her fork and reaches across the table. "I can fly back on weekends, or you could come up to Washington," she says softly, like they both work nine-til-five. He squeezes her hand. She doesn't know how to fix this.