Don’t watch me with your judging eyes.

God. Her voice. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever heard. It soothes, it nourishes, and I can feel it physically running over every inch of me from the soles of my feet to the roots of my hair, and although the words of the song tell me not to watch her, I couldn’t tear my eyes away if I tried.

My secrets are not yours to find.

Don’t watch me with your hungry eyes

Your want is a need that makes you blind.

Turn your head and walk away

My love wasn’t enough to make you stay.

Her words.

Fuck. Her words.

They burrow deep and crawl into my dark places. How can this girl sing words meant only for me?

Don’t dream of what ifs and memories

You threw me and those away.

Don’t console yourself with miseries

You’re not worthy of the pain.

I can feel Nate’s stare, but I daren’t look his way. I can’t even blink. She’s everywhere. She’s all I see, all I hear, all I feel.

Turn your head and walk away

My love wasn’t enough to make you stay.

How is it this girl, this stranger with a flower in her hair, can sing songs written by my heart? Songs written for my soul. Words I wished Laura could hear. But it’s not Laura I’m thinking about at this moment, not really, and I know I’ll beat myself up about that later because right now, all I can see is her.

“Thank you,” she rasps into the microphone. Her eyes now open but not looking at anyone - not looking at me, despite the need I have for her to seek me out again.

“This next song is one you may have heard before.”

She adjusts her guitar, closes her eyes and begins to sing. It takes me a few lines to realise she’s singing a stripped back, slowed down version of Chaka Khan’s Ain’t Nobody.

With her voice and the emotion she pours into every word, it sounds nothing like the disco original. It’s powerful and haunting and grips me in its hold.

“She’s good isn’t she,” Nate states as he leans into my side speaking directly into my ear for me to hear him over the music. “She’s the girl Liam gave a job to when he ran the place. I never knew she could sing, let alone as good as that.”

I don’t answer him because I can’t. All my thoughts, all my words, everything I have is caught up in her.

“Earth to Josh,” he teases once the song ends and the girl on stage – Halle – moves effortlessly onto the next one, another cover, this time of Bonnie Raitt’s, I Can’t Make You Love Me.

“The crowd loves her,” Nate continues, but I can’t answer because I couldn’t tell you what the crowd thinks. I only register Nate’s words because of his proximity and because he forces them on me. I’m oblivious to anything else in this room. Except her.

Just like when I caught her doing her practice earlier, it feels like every word she sings, she sings for me.

To me.

About me.

Into me.

An hour into her set, she excuses herself for a thirty-minute break, and as soon as she walks from the stage and disappears into the same room off to the side, I feel bereft.

It’s ridiculous and confusing and has me both itching to follow and fighting the urge to leave.

“Wow, I think Halle just blew me away. I can’t see her being an employee here for much longer,” Nate muses as the crowd all rush to grab drinks before Halle’s set continues.

“Why?” I ask absentmindedly, my eyes locked onto the door she just exited. “Are you going to fire her?”

“I’d be crazy to fire her,” Nate scoffs while motioning for a waitress. “In fact,” he continues. “I should probably offer her a regular contract before someone else snaps her up from under my nose.”

I mumble an affirmative response, but I know he’s onto me when he says.

“She’s pretty too.”

I hear him but don’t process his words until he says, “Maybe, with the way things are between Liv and me, I could…”

Ask her out.

“You what?” My head snaps to the side so fast that I almost give myself whiplash, and I know the look on my face is likely feral.

“Ah,” he laughs. “So you are listening to me.”

“You mentioned cheating on Liv, of course I’m listening to you.”

“No, I never once said anything about cheating,” he mocks, with a sly smile and a head shake.

A waitress appears a few seconds later with our refills, the perks of being the boss I guess, and Nate takes a long drink before he smirks at me.

“I said, with the way things are with Liv and me, I have more time to invest in Aurora and looking for new talent, like Halle.”

My eyes narrow as I take in his smug expression and far too pleased with himself grin.

“You’re covering. I heard what you said.”

“No, you think you heard what I said. If I were you, bro, I’d have a think about the reason why what you assume you heard bothers you so much.”

My reply is immediate and scathing, “Because you’re with Liv and I assumed my eldest brother wasn’t a cheating fucking scumbag.”

“Easy now,” he warns at my vitriolic tirade. “I get that you misheard, and I get that your head is seven shades of fucked up, but I am not and will never be a cheater.”

The air between the two of us ripples with his building anger and my stubborn annoyance.

I know Nate, I know he’s not a cheater, but I feel like I’m drunk right now, despite not drinking enough to make me more than a touch tipsy. My head is swimming with foreign thoughts and feelings, and I don’t know what to do with them or how to process them. I can also feel guilt creeping up on me, waiting to give me the mother of all metaphorical hangovers. And that’s when it hits me.

Laura Smiles.

In all my thoughts and all my inner turmoil, not once when Halle was on stage did I think about my wife.

I’ve accused Nate of being a cheater and yet here I sit, with my eyes locked on someone who is not my wife.

“I have to go,” I mumble while pushing up from the table and catching the top with my thighs in my rush to stand. Our drinks wobble and tumble, spilling their contents along the surface before rolling off the edge to smash on the floor.

“I’m sorry, Nate. I can’t… I just need to…”

Without waiting for him to protest or try to stop me, I stride away from the mess I’ve made, pushing my way through the crowds of club goers until I reach the street outside.

By chance, a taxi waits at the kerb, and I quickly slip inside and rush out the address of the villa to the driver. As we pull away from the centre of San Antonio, my phone buzzes in my pocket and I slide it out to see Nate’s name flash across the screen. Uncaring about his worry, I run my thumb up the edge of my phone and hold down the power button until it prompts me to slide my finger across the screen to switch it off. Nate’s name fades as the phone dies.

I should feel guilt, and I do, but not towards Nate.

The guilt bubbling up my throat and burning my insides is only towards her. My wife. The woman I forgot all about for the last few hours.

Close on the heels of that guilt is anger towards the woman who transfixed me with her voice. It’s irrational and I know it’s not her fault but I need to blame someone as much as I blame myself, and she’s not here to defend herself.

I hope I never lay eyes on her again.

I hope I never again hear her voice.

Don’t dream of what ifs and memories,

You threw me and those away.

Don’t console yourself with miseries,

You’re not worthy of the pain.

I aggressively drag my palms down my face, wanting to scrub away everything about the last few hours.

I need to get home to my kids. I should never have gone out tonight. My children need me. Nate does not. He has other people he can talk to about his problems. My kids only have me.

I lie to myself with these thoughts the entire journey home, convincing myself of their truth. When I walk through the door to the villa, all the lights are off, and the house is still as everyone inside sleeps. My lies have never been more evident than they are right now because my kids don’t only have me. They have my whole family. Nevertheless, the urge to see them bears down on me, and even though I know I shouldn’t check on them in this state in case I wake them, I creep through the house to sate this desperate need that scratches at my skin. I have to make sure my kids are okay.

I slip quietly into Ivy’s room to see her asleep on her bed with her favourite dolly tucked into her side. Then onto Arthur’s room, where my little man sleeps on his back, fists clenched and raised above his head, his face, if possible, even more beautiful in sleep. He huffs a little and twitches in dreams, and I have to hold myself back, the need to touch him almost overwhelming.

Tonight, I never once forgot about my children. Even while listening to Halle sing, they were present, in the back of my mind. The only person I forgot about was my wife, and the admission of this fact, although only to myself, almost cripples me.

With weary legs, I slide down onto the cold tile floor next to Arthur’s cot and lean up against the wall. From here I can just make out my son’s profile and the slight rise and fall of his small chest as he breathes deeply in slumber.

Nothing has changed here in this house.

But everything has changed inside me.

And not for the better.

Just as I was sure I was heading in the right direction, moving forward, and building a life without Laura, a girl with a flower in her hair sweeps the rug out from under me.

And she doesn’t even know it.

And I can’t even explain it.

But watching Halle, listening to her words that, at that moment at least, felt like she sang them only for me, makes me want to run again.

If I’m getting good at anything, it’s my ability to flee.

Tomorrow, my weary mind tells me as my eyes protest against the darkness, and the time between each of my blinks becomes longer.

Tomorrow, I’ll have a clear head.

Tomorrow, things will make sense.

Tomorrow, I will remember all that I am and all that I’m trying to become.

Blink.

Sleep takes over, and I sigh into her arms.

I’m here, Josh. I’m always here.

Laura Smiles.