Arthur seemed very cautious about what he asked me after that. I felt bad, I was being a difficult assistant today. Luckily, he didn't seem that deterred either.

"What kind of scenery do you enjoy most?" He asked.

"I suppose things like the garden," I said thoughtfully. "I love flowers, forests, and sunsets. Oh, and anything to do with water, especially lakes or rivers."

"I couldn't agree more!" He said excitedly. "Shimmering waters, plants bursting everywhere, landscapes bathed in the reds and golds of a setting sun. Honestly, it's a photographer's dream."

"I prefer to picnic when I'm there," I said, laughing, "but it's beautiful either way really."

I heard as he snapped a couple more photos. He looked down and scrolled through what he'd taken so far.

I was actually having fun talking with Arthur this way. Like a talk with a good friend. Why did it feel strange for some reason?

The realization struck me suddenly. Had Mr. Weston and I ever had a real conversation? We'd talked before, but it was usually about his past or the nature of our relationship. Was Arthur really the first personality I just talked to? I didn't know how to feel about that.

"We should go together sometime," he said casually.

"Go where?" I asked, still half-absorbed with my realization.

I glanced up. He fidgeted with the camera in his hands. He gave a slight shrug.

"To a lake or river, on a picnic," he said, not looking up.

Leave the mansion? That was a bad idea. Did Mr. Weston ever leave? I'd have to ask Thomas. Arthur looked at me expectantly.

"Oh, umm," I tried searching for words, "well, why don't we just have one in the garden sometime? It would be difficult to get all your equipment to another location, and I'd hate to imagine if it got wet."

"There's a river that runs along the border of the property. I can fit the essentials in a backpack. It's really no trouble," he muttered, looking down again. "That being the case, would you like to go sometime?"

There was a river on the property? I felt the panic vanish. That was much more reasonable. He almost seemed like he was pouting. I guess he really wanted to go. I never took Arthur for the outdoors type, garden excluded.

"Sure," I said, smiling. "Only if you promise to eat though."

His face lit up. "Of course!"

My smile grew bigger. Arthur's energy really was contagious. His passion seemed to radiate out and capture everything in its path, me included. He placed the camera back on its stand and lined it up.

"Tell me about your friends," he said cheerfully.

"I only really have one close friend," I sighed. "Sara, she's Thomas' niece."

"Really!" He exclaimed, snapping another picture. "I didn't know Thomas had a niece."

"Well, technically she's his great-niece. I guess Thomas started asking his family for help when he had trouble finding a replacement," I said, shrugging. "She's how I heard about this job actually."

"Amazing, what did she tell you about it exactly? I'm curious about how Thomas spun this position."

I paused. Right. Arthur didn't know he had a caretaker. I was his "assistant." I thought carefully. What would Thomas say about Arthur if he was posting a job for him?

"That there was a position open as an assistant for a passionate photographer," it sounded good, but it needed some brutal honesty to make it believable. "She mentioned that it was difficult to fill because the photographer could be demanding. There would be times I may be forced to be on my feet for hours or even skip meals. Also, I'd have to look over his health because he sometimes neglected it."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "God, the man makes me sound like some kind of animal. Although, I guess we have gone through a few assistants in the last year or two."

"A few?" I asked teasingly.

"Fine, a lot," he admitted, shaking his head. "Good help is hard to find. I'm really glad he found you, Ms. Walton, you're incredibly capable."

I laughed. "Wow, that almost sounded like a compliment."

"Yes, I'm starting to learn those," he said, smiling. "Well, what about your educational background?"

"Community college, Associate's degree."

"What did you study?"

"Literature."

"Amazing," he said excitedly. "What drew you towards it?"

"I always liked reading, I was drawn to the classics especially. I guess it was the 'romance' associated with them," I said, leaning back in my chair.

"Could you please explain something to me, Ms. Walton?" He asked.

"What's that, sir?"

"Now, I'm not trying to mean this offensively, I'm honestly just curious," he started cautiously.

I smiled a bit. What could it be to make Arthur preemptively apologize? He was usually an ask first, apologize second kind of guy.

"I've heard of plenty of women being attracted to 'classic romance.' You know, the charming men who have minor flaws but are ultimately deemed good. These women like the brave and loving men willing to sacrifice for them, correct?" He asked. I nodded. "Well, I've also heard about plenty of women who desire independence and the ability to rely on themselves instead of a man to come along and rescue them. So, which is it exactly? Which is the 'correct' man, so to speak?"

I thought about it. It certainly was an interesting question. As a woman myself, I also flipped between wanting to be independent and wanting to be cared for.

"I guess the best answer is there is no 'correct man' really," I said thoughtfully. "I can't speak for all women but, at least for me, the best man would be a combination of both. I do want independence. I want the ability to think and act for myself without someone trying to regulate me. I want the power to save myself if I need to.

At the same time, I want someone who will care for me. I can handle myself, but why face something alone if you don't have to? I want someone to care for me, but I want to take care of him too. So, I guess the best man is one who both loves and receives love equally. Without thinking one is more important than the other."

He stared at me a moment. I heard the camera click, but he didn't really react. Maybe I didn't explain well. I was honest, but I wouldn't really say I gave a "clear" answer. Arthur was more of a straightforward and simple kind of guy.

"Sorry, let me try to explain better. You see-"

"No, no," he said, shaking his head. "I think I understand. You want someone who would love you and accept your love without feeling like it lessened either one's value in some way, right?"

"Exactly," I said, sighing with relief.

"Then why two men?" He asked. I paused, he blushed a bit. "Sorry, I'm still working on my bluntness. I suppose I'm just curious. You said you want to love and be loved without anyone feeling inferior, so why have two men? Wouldn't it complicate things, and won't both men feel inferior by having to share you? I know if I had to share my lover I'd wonder why I wasn't enough for her."

"It's not that they're not enough!" I cried, exasperated.

Arthur jumped at my outburst. I buried my face in my hands. This was frustrating. It wasn't as simple as choosing one or the other. I couldn't choose one or the other. They were all him. And all not him.

Again, the dilemma occurred. They weren't all "Jack Weston," but they were all "Mr. Weston." Arthur said himself he wouldn't want to share and would feel like he wasn't enough in that situation, Victor made it clear he didn't want to share either but resigned himself to being my "second choice." I didn't want either of those to be the case. How do you love a man who's more than one man? How do you do it without hurting him in one way or another?

Victor's pain-filled face came to mind again. It was too much for me. I felt hot tears sliding down my cheeks. I started sobbing. I didn't know what else to do.

"Oh no. Oh no," I heard Arthur say.

I heard his footsteps moving closer. I felt his hand rub against my back. I couldn't stop crying. I felt miserable. Not only was I having a personal crisis, but I was also behaving completely unprofessionally. Not that it mattered with Jack or Victor, but Arthur seemed terrified by it. He didn't know how to talk with people in general, let alone comfort them.

"Ms. Walton, please stop crying," he begged desperately, still rubbing my back. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sure it's hard for you already. I didn't mean anything by what I said. I'm sure both of those men should consider themselves lucky just to have any part of you."

Lucky to have me? My sobbing turned to laughter, but I couldn't stop crying. Poor Arthur was terrified, wondering what he said wrong this time. I felt awful. I hated myself at that moment, and maybe that was the problem. I didn't feel like I deserved any of them.

I wasn't dumb, but I wasn't educated like they were. I didn't have money like they did. I wasn't talented or refined like any of them. I couldn't even properly do the job I was hired to do. I was just some broke girl from a small town who fell into all of this and I didn't feel like I deserved any of it.

Arthur threw his arms around me suddenly and held me close. I went dead silent all at once. I was in shock. Arthur wasn't really the affectionate type, especially since he considered me an assistant. I was too confused to focus on anything else.

"Sorry," he mumbled, in shock himself. "I think you're usually supposed to slap someone in hysterics, but I didn't want to slap you. Is this... okay?"

His voice sounded just as confused about what was happening. I couldn't help letting out a small laugh. I put my arms around him and hugged him close. He tensed up a bit, but he didn't move.

"Thank you," I said softly.

"No, I mean," he seemed flustered, "I-I should be doing something. It's my fault you became like that so-"

"It's not your fault," I said, pulling away and looking into his eyes. "It's not your fault. This... it's my fault because it's from the choices I've made. I've made bad choices so far. I want to start making better choices so things like this won't happen again. I don't want to hurt you anymore."

"I'd hardly call it 'hurting me' really," he mumbled, adjusting himself. "An inconvenience at most, and that's to be expected with human models. Let's just... take ten minutes to collect ourselves before getting back to work. Would you like some water?"

I nodded and stood to get it. He waved me off.

"No, you stay. I need to step out of the studio a moment anyway," he spoke professionally, but his voice was still gentle. "I'll get you some water and be back in a few, you relax until then."

He rushed out of the studio before I could respond. I let out a deep sigh. Poor Arthur, I was really pushing him to his limit today. Who was taking care of who exactly?

I glanced around at the studio as I thought this. God, was it this messy this morning? I wanted to clean up, but I wasn't sure what he was still using. My eyes landed on his desk. The book from earlier was still there. He had his inspiration now so I doubted he needed it anymore.

I picked it up and glanced at the cover. The Nine Muses: A Discussion. I knew that title from somewhere, but I couldn't remember where. I opened the book to a random page only to be met with my own naked body. I blushed and slammed the book shut. Right. That was how I knew it.

I wondered why Arthur was looking at it though. Maybe trying to draw inspiration from past projects? That sounded like something he might do. It was at that point he wandered back into the room.

"Ms. Walton, are you feeling better or-" he paused suddenly as he saw the book in my hands.

"I'm fine. Sorry, do you still need this? I was just trying to clean up a little," I said sheepishly.

I really didn't want to interfere with his work any more than I already had. He looked toward the ground and shook his head. I placed the book back on the shelf. He stayed in place, looking at the floor. He had a glass of water in his hand.

"Thank you," I said, walking over and taking it. "You've been really understanding. Sorry, I haven't been a very good assistant today."

"You've been doing fine," he mumbled.

He kept his head down as he shuffled towards his camera. I took a drink of the water, it did make me feel a little better. Arthur started making adjustments to his camera again. He was basically refusing to look at me. I must have really scared him earlier. Maybe I could snap him out of it by discussing work.

"So, did the book help?" I asked.

He jumped a bit. His face turned red. I think he was still on guard around me.

"What? What do you mean?" He asked.

"Did you have any luck finding inspiration?" I asked.

He seemed to calm down a little at this. He let out a sigh and went back to his camera.

"I'm afraid, upon second glance, those pictures aren't very good," he muttered.

I knew he wasn't specifically saying I was the problem, but I was sure I was part of it. I wasn't a supermodel. I had no clue what I was doing at all. A real model might have been able to help him capture his vision.

"Sorry, I'm not really the model type," I said quietly.

"No, no, you misunderstood me," he said quickly. "You're a wonderful model, Ms. Walton. It's my own issue with the pictures. I don't believe they were of poor quality, but I am personally dissatisfied with them. They didn't express what I was trying to capture. They invoked... the wrong feelings for what I was trying to express."

I didn't really understand the more artistic points of what he was saying, but I understood he wasn't happy with them. Although he tried to make it abundantly clear it wasn't my fault, I still felt bad. I was his assistant, at least for today I was. I had caused him a lot of trouble so far. I wanted to do something right today.

"Well, what exactly is wrong with them? Maybe I can do a better job if we do them again," I said cheerfully.

"No, no. I've scrapped that whole project," he turned from me to fix one of the lights.

I was about to push the issue when I heard the clock chime. Seven? It couldn't be that late, the chef hadn't called yet. The confusion on my face must have been obvious.

"Ah, I arranged to have dinner brought up to us while I was out. It's easier that way," he mumbled.

"Oh, but Thomas-"

"I plan to say a proper goodbye," he explained. He smiled suddenly. "Old dog even agreed to let me take some pictures of him."

I relaxed a bit. Good, I didn't want my emotions to get in the way of their last night together. I heard a knock at the door and went to answer it. Chef Phillip walked in with a covered tray and set it on the table nearby. He nodded to us briefly before heading out.

Arthur went to the table and sat down. I was shocked he wasn't putting up a fight about eating. He motioned me over.

"Come eat something, Ms. Walton," he said, holding out an apple. "You must be starving after today."

So that was why. He was still trying to take care of me. I smiled and sat with him. I took the apple and started eating. Arthur ate a few things himself before scurrying back to his camera. He began to set up some still-life models. I stood, but he waved me back.

"It's alright, Ms. Walton. Eat properly. I think going back to my comfort zone may be just what I need to inspire me," he said thoughtfully.

Despite this, he didn't seem very focused. I saw him glance in my direction several times. It seemed he was still worried about my emotional state.

After a while, there was another knock on the door. Thomas poked his head in.

"Hello, I hope I'm not interrupting," he said, coming in.

"Thomas, middle of the backdrop," Arthur said bluntly, adjusting his camera.

Thomas sighed. He shot me a tired smile before doing what Arthur asked. Arthur snapped a couple pictures before going to adjust the lights again.

"Why do you have to be so tall, Thomas?" He muttered.

Thomas laughed. "Bad genetics, sir. So how has your work been coming today?"

Arthur shot a glance my way, I felt guilty. I knew he didn't get as much done as he wanted.

"Ms. Walton is an excellent assistant. I'm afraid I'm having a bit of a dilemma though," he said.

"What's that, sir?" Thomas asked.

Arthur looked my way again. Perhaps he wanted to speak with Thomas alone. After all, it would be their last time together. I stood up. They both looked my way.

"Do you need anything else from me today, sir?" I asked. "If not, I think I'll go to bed early. I'm very tired."

"No, there's nothing else Ms. Walton. You rest," he said quickly.

He still seemed worried. I nodded and left. As touched as I was that Arthur was caring for me, I wondered when he would stop. The whole situation made me just as uncomfortable as I'm sure it made him.

It wasn't a lie when I said I was tired. Crying always made me feel sleepy like the effort drained all my energy. I was sure Arthur would be in the studio all night again, and I missed our room.

The air felt different as I entered, colder somehow. I could guess what it was. Guilt. I still couldn't get Victor's pain-filled face out of my mind. I sat on the edge of the bed, but all I could think about was how he refused to look at me.

I shook my head and went to change. Would I ever get over what happened? Arthur was right, the best way to apologize would be to prove to Victor that I didn't just think of him as a backup. That I considered my relationship with him just as serious as my relationship with Jack. How was I going to do that exactly?

I let out a frustrated sigh as I laid on the bed. What could I do? He liked wine, but alcohol seemed like a really generic gift. It needed to be special. I knew he wanted more of a physical relationship, but doing that to make up for what happened seemed cheap. I didn't exactly like the idea of my body being leverage either.

I heard some laughter echoing faintly in the halls. At least they were having a good time. Despite my hysterical episode, I was glad I talked to Arthur. He had a way of saying everything so clearly like it was the most obvious thing in the world. I needed that today, painful or not. Sometimes the truth hurts.

I felt sleep numbing my mind, I fell into it without realizing. The clock was actually what woke me. I wasn't sure why, but my barely conscious mind counted the chimes. Three, four, five. Five o'clock. In the morning. I gasped and bolted up in bed. Thomas.

I rushed out of the room and down the stairs. Most of the boxes were gone, but I was glad to see a couple were left. Thomas walked through the front door. He seemed shocked when he saw me, but a smile spread across his face.

"How did I know you'd come to see me off?" He asked.

"Thomas, are you the hugging type?"

He laughed. "No, but I'll make an exception for you, Ms. Walton."

I rushed forward and hugged him firmly. He squeezed me back. After a moment he pulled away and picked up one of the boxes.

"Anna," He said, I could hear his voice shaking a bit. "I can't even begin to thank you. For your kindness, your understanding, your patience, everything. In such a short time you've seamlessly stepped into the role of caretaker. You've made such an impact on Mr. Weston already.

I know I've said this before, but please take care of him," he sighed. "Letting go is hard, but I feel better knowing your hands are there to catch him. I wish you all the best for the future, Ms. Walton. No matter what may happen."

He seemed to have a slight smile as he said this. I was about to ask why when a woman stepped through the door. She seemed about Thomas' age. She was short with long gray hair in a messy bun, she had a brace around her ankle. This must be Laura. She smiled warmly and came over to me.

"You must be Anna, right?" She asked. I nodded. "Well, bless your heart for taking care of this boy, and for giving Tom and me a fresh start. We can't thank you enough."

She pulled me into a tight hug. It was a little awkward but I hugged her back. I guess she'd been waiting a long time for this. She pulled away and gave me another smile. She grabbed the last box before heading out the door.

"Laura, your ankle," he called.

"I got it!" She shouted to him.

Thomas shook his head, but he smiled. It was obvious he was in love with her. He turned to me. He still smiled but his eyes looked sad.

"Mr. Weston fell asleep in the studio. He should be there all night," Thomas paused for a bit. He didn't seem to know what else to say. "Thank you again, Ms. Walton. For everything."

He gave me a brief bow before heading out. He closed the door behind him. My heart felt a little heavy as he left. I was on my own now.

I sighed and went back upstairs. I just woke up, but the emotional strain made me exhausted again. I peeked into the studio. Arthur had fallen asleep in one of the chairs. Thomas had put a blanket over him. I smiled a bit and went back to the room. Another lonely night.

I laid on the bed. I didn't know what to expect tomorrow. I just hoped I'd be able to handle it on my own. Eventually, sleep began to take over again. I was just barely awake when I heard the soft creaking of the door. I heard footsteps across the floor. I felt someone's weight as it pressed against the bed. A hand brushed against my back.

A loud gasp and the sudden disappearance of the weight woke me a bit more, but not too much. I was still closer to sleep than consciousness.

"Ms. Walton?" I heard Mr. Weston whisper. "Ms. Walton? Are you awake? What are you doing in my room?"

I heard him, but the words barely registered in my sleep-filled mind. I don't even think I moved. He let out a sigh. I heard him pace back and forth for a minute. Suddenly, the pacing stopped. The weight returned to the bed. I could feel a vague heat from his body being close to mine.

"Ms. Walton?" He said again, a little more loudly.

After a moment he seemed sure I was asleep. I felt his hand touch my shoulder gently. His fingers trembled a bit as he did so. Was he cold? I was falling back into my sleep when his hand slid down and wrapped around my waist, his body pressed against my back.

What was going on? He did fall asleep briefly in the studio, maybe this was a new persona. Arthur didn't do these things. Besides, Arthur thought of me as an employee, he would never even think to do this. Then again, most of the other personas wouldn't be surprised to find me in their bed.

He didn't move, he even seemed to be holding his breath. I felt his other hand move the hair from my neck. His lips kissed it gently. Was it Victor again? Maybe this was his way of trying to make up after our fight. I was too tired to think about making up now though.

He stayed silent, but I had the feeling like I was being watched. I felt fingers running through my hair. He sighed.

"Not just one man to compete with, but two," his voice was barely a whisper. "What do they have that draws you to them? What do I need to do?"

Compete with two men? Wait, was this Arthur? I didn't have much time to dwell on it. I felt sleep taking over again. I sunk back to unconsciousness.

"Anna," his voice sighed.

That was the last thing I remembered before sleep took over completely.