"Triple espresso with one percent please."

"Excuse m-" A woman tries to cut across the line behind him. Her voice all too familiar. "Sam?"

"Lisa?" His head turns and their eyes meet.

"It is you." It has been two and a half years. Almost three.

She cut her hair. It suits her. Striking and practical and poised.

"Lisa." He exhales her name like a sigh, as a thousand things rushing through his mind.

Things to say, things he can say, things he should say.

He wonders how much Josh and Toby and CJ are willing to pay to be here right now.

Or how much he is willing to pay to be anywhere else instead.

But before he realizes it, he is standing face-to-face with his ex-fiancée, in a corner of this little coffee shop, his Styrofoam cup of espresso in hand. She looks at him with a polite smile on her face.

"So, how are-"

"How have -"

Both start to speak at once, and both stop themselves short. They chuckle a little, then she gestures him to speak first.

"Black French Roast, of course." He nods at the cup in her hand.

"And you. Still the same triple espresso with 1 percent." She replies. "You know it's going to give you an heart attack one day, don't you?"

"We call it 'the price of doing business.'"

They chuckle politely.

"I guess some things never change." He looks down at his coffee for a second. "Unlike others."

They stand in silence, still figures among the streams of bustling customers.

"So, how are you, Sam?" Her smooth tone matches the polite smile on her face. He almost forgets that perfect composure is one of her specialities.

"Fine. Busy. Memos to read. Speeches to write."

"That's good." She nods.

"Anyway. Enough about me. What brings you to DC?"

"The International Conference of Cardiology is here this week."

"Oh. Okay." He nods. Searching for his words. "That's great. Excellent."

For a moment, neither says anything further. The awkwardness so palpable, he can almost smell it among the cappuccino and pastry.

"We can still talk about the weather." Finally she suggests half-jokingly.

"Actually, I should go. Staff meeting."

"Sure."

"Well." He paused. "It's nice to see you."

"Yeah. I've missed you."

"Good luck with the conference."

He turns to leave, and manages three steps. Then he stops, and turns to face her again. He opens his mouth then he closes it. He looks at her and glances away. Although still smiling politely, her eyes flicker with carefully concealed nervousness.

"Why did you leave?"

"You left first, Sam."

"I was working for the campaign. You flew off to Sweden."

"I've worked all of my twenty-five years of education for that opportunity."

"I thought we were still getting married." He closes his eyes for a second, remembering. "Then the next thing I knew, I came back to an half-empty apartment with your engagement ring and a note saying 'It's over, Sam' on the dinning room table."

He pauses, almost surprised by the hints of accusation in his own voice. "You never even called."

"Neither did you." She holds his gaze squarely. "It was my dream job, Sam. I had to seize my chance. Just like you did yours."

"You should've talked to me. We had only talked about it a couple of times on the phone."

"We fought about it a couple of times on the phone." She corrects with a shake of her head. "In between your speechwriting sessions and my fifteen-hours shifts."

"We could've figured something out."

"If only we had the time."

"We were engaged for almost a year." As if the fact matters anymore.

"We were good together, but we were never in love with each other."

"I loved you. I thought you loved me."

"If we were in love, we wouldn't be here talking about this."

"We had something."

"And we had both chosen something else instead."

He glances away, because, for a moment, he has nothing to say. Finally, he asks. "Have you ever regretted?"

"Have you regretted choosing Bartlet?" She shakes her head and smiles.

He looks at her, then eventually smiles as well. His bittersweet echoes with hers wistful. She doesn't need his answer.

"We are too alike, Sam."

"Yeah." He sighs in resignation. "Even Josh said so."

"And we both know just how perceptive he really is." She snorts and rolls her eyes. Perplexing as it is, his best friend and then-fiancée never really liked each other. He never understood their reasons, if there were any, and he suspects that he wouldn't want to find out.

"I should go."

"Okay."

"I've missed you."

"Me too." She nods, and pauses. "It's the Grand Hyatt."

"I'm sorry?"

"We're staying at the Grand Hyatt. Next to the Convention Centre." She smiles. "Give me a call, if you have time."

"Yeah. I'll try." He smiles back. "Good luck with the conference."

"See you, Sam."

They didn't get married, but there are still many things they share.

Choose and be chosen. He is where he should be, as is she.

The Grand Hyatt. He promises that he'll try.