Out the Door, Part 2

And now, there she was, up on stage. Holding hands with Basal McConnell, one of his generation's best-known actors, and until recently considered one of the most eligible bachelors in Hollywood.

Look at her. She seemed stable. Happy. Things I could never give her. And beautiful, too, of course, but she had always been that.

Emotions are complicated things.

Wendy frowned and watched my expression with slitted eyes. “What's up, love?” she asked. “It's just an award show.” I tried to brush it off, but Wendy had always been too perceptive. “Wait, is that who I think it is?” She turned her gaze to the screen. “Wow! Imagine that.”

She must have felt me shudder, because this time she looked back with concern. “We can stop watching,” she said. “Not like they're going to say anything earthshaking.”

I just nodded. I hadn't thought about Debby in so many years. I was better off for it. I had been well quit of her then and nothing had changed that. It had been so long.

So why did the pain, the fear – and, yes, the old flame of desire – feel so fresh and new?