He rubbed at the stubble on his chin before he admitted, “I sent her home.” “Why?” I asked, but his eyes burned into mine, communicating all I needed to know. “Because I could only look at you all night.” He combed a hand through his thick hair. “I’ve been with her for two years, and it’s been damn near fifteen years without you,” he said, and his voice suddenly held all the pain I felt. “And yet I hear your voice on that stage, look at you singing, and I still only want you.”
