I stood in front of Rogerson and looked into his green eyes. He smiled at me.
“I can’t believe you,” I said to him.
“It’s the hair,” he explained.
I shook my head. “What are you doing here anyway?”
He slid his hands around my waist, his fingers sliding up to touch my back just where I’d hurt it in pyramid duty the night before. “It’s a long story,” he said. “You really want to hear it?”
And I didn’t at the moment, not really. Onstage behind me Wade was still talking, reminding me to breathe, breathe, open up and be free, and all the other nonsense words, so it was his voice I heard, and none of the others in my own head, as Rogerson leaned in and kissed me and I let go, closing my eyes and breathing all the way.