I patted her hand, trying to reassure her. “We’ll be careful. But while we’re in DC, if we want to investigate, we have to get out. We can’t stay cooped up here.”

I got up and grabbed an apple from a bowl on her dresser. “As for today, the National Mall is the most patrolled place in the whole city. We’ll be fine. I’ll ask the officer outside if he can run us over there.”

An hour later we were walking up the steps of the Capitol. Abby stopped to gaze at the massive structure. “So this is where your tribe makes its rules,” she said, a half smile on her lips.

“Primarily, this is where various interests vie for resources and privilege.”

We walked down Pennsylvania Avenue and entered the White House. Abby asked the tour guide, “Is the president here?”

“No ma’am. President Ramirez is at Camp David this week.”

Abby read the guide’s nameplate: Adela Ramirez. “President Ramirez—is he your father?”

The guide gave her an odd look. “I wish.”

We walked three blocks to an ice cream shop, where Abby took a sample of each of the thirty-six flavors. “Those were wonderful.” She beamed, wiping ice cream from her fingers.

“Where is she from?” the clerk asked in a guarded tone as I paid for three cones—one for her, one for me, and one for the samples.

“Another planet,” I whispered.

We sat at a sidewalk table and licked our treats. She looked at me with a serious countenance. “Creighton, last night…”

“Abby, I apologize if I rushed you into something you weren’t ready for.” I couldn’t believe I was saying such a thing. To wait two weeks before kissing a woman. Even a relational klutz like me could count on adjourning to VR sex within two or three encounters. And Abby had been living in my house.

Still, I spoke the truth. She was unlike anyone else in my life in the last ten years; I genuinely cared for this woman.

She shook her head. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just wondering…the time we spend together. It’s how men and women develop relationships here in the States, isn’t it? Romantic relationships, that is.”

I looked her straight in the eye. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

“Is that what you’re trying to do—develop a romantic relationship? Because I don’t know if that will work between us.”

“Why not?”

“Because…I…” She blushed. “I won’t have sex with you.”

We were silent for a moment, looking at each other. Finally I spoke. “It’s possible to develop feelings for someone and want to be with them without having sex.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” She brushed a lock of hair away from her face.

“Well, so far.”

“And not having sex doesn’t bother you?”