Nothing compares.
No worries or cares.
Regrets and mistakes,
They are memories made.
Who would have known how bittersweet this would taste?

Bittersweet, Amy thought to herself as she sang the words to the bridge of the song. Like the last remnants of a bottle of red.

She’d cracked open the last of her stash of cabernet noir from The Wine House last night. She’d been saving it, meaning to hold onto it as a memento – Adam’s drink of choice. It was the only thing of his that she had left, aside from the stack of glossy photos and Q & A's she'd cut out from magazines. But her liquor supply had run out and so had her tip money, so out popped the cork and down the hatch. So much for nostalgia. She couldn’t make it through that Grammy broadcast without a drink.

She’d watched him on her TV screen and raised the bottle in a silent toast. Then she’d poured every last bitter drop down her throat and waited for the familiar feeling – the fire that started as a warm glow in the pit of her stomach. The flame that spread and spread and slowly spread, until it reached to the tips of her fingers and the backs of her knees and the base of her skull, until it burned all other thoughts into sweet oblivion.

***

The sound of the bedroom door slamming had woken up Adele.

Jane had gone into her daughter’s room, hearing her little voice calling out in distress. It had been a welcome distraction from the sound of Adam’s car roaring to life in the driveway and peeling off down the street.

At least she had Adele, Jane thought to herself now as she sat out on the shady patio and watched her daughter scampering among the palm trees in their spacious backyard. Jane glanced down at her watch. The sun would be setting soon. It was just about dinnertime. Adam had said before he left this morning that he'd be home in time for dinner. But that was before he—that was before.

“You should go,” she had told him. “You should be with her.”

She had given him permission, and he’d taken her up on it. She couldn’t blame him. At least he had tried to make a go of it. He had tried. She had to give him an A for effort. But she knew what had happened. He didn’t need to tell her. She’d fumbled with his belt. She couldn’t stop the shaking in her fingers. He’d felt it, and he couldn’t go through with it. He’d been too repulsed.

She felt sick to her stomach, remembering the agonized look on his face just before he’d left.

“Come on, little girl,” she called out to Adele. “Let’s go in now. It’s dinnertime.”

Jane took her daughter’s hand as they made their way back inside. At least she had Adele. He wouldn’t try to take her daughter from her. He would leave her that much. Wouldn’t he?

They were headed toward the kitchen when Jane heard a noise come from behind the door to the library.

Her heart skipped a beat.

It isn’t him, she said to herself, rolling her eyes. He’d gone. She’d texted him earlier, and he hadn’t answered. It had gone straight to voicemail when she'd tried to call. The picture she kept of him on her phone had smiled back at her the same as ever, of course. She had stared at it for a moment before she'd slipped her phone back into her pocket. A picture of Adam Levine on her cell phone, just like how many thousands of other adoring women around the world? She had sat there staring at it, and she had known - in her heart of hearts, she had known with an undeniable certainty, that it was all she had left of him now. He was gone. He wasn’t coming back.

Jane heard the noise again. “Hello?” she called out.

The door opened, and there he stood, framed in the doorway – Adam Levine in the flesh.

She raised her eyes to meet his. “Adele,” he said, never shifting his gaze from his wife’s face. “Go to the kitchen. Nanny is waiting. Your mother and I need to talk.”

“Why?” Adele began, but something in the expression on her father’s face must have told her not to argue. She looked back and forth between her parents and then went without another word.

Jane stood still for a moment, her eyes still locked with her husband’s. “You came back,” she said at last.

“Of course I came back,” he replied. He opened the door wider and gestured with his head for her to come in. She moved past him into the room and heard him click the door closed behind her. She looked up at him questioningly as he turned to face her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and she saw uncertainty in his eyes as he looked back at her. “I fucked up. Badly. I had an affair.”

Jane nodded. “Are you still in love with her?”

“No.” He came toward her and reached out his arms, taking her hands in his. “I was lonely, and she was there.”

“I heard you tell her, Adam.”

“I don’t know,” he shook his head. “Maybe I loved her – or maybe I would have, eventually, if you hadn’t come back. But honestly, Jane, I haven’t given her second thought since then. It’s like she ceased to exist, the moment you opened your eyes.”

“Are you sure?” She searched his face, looking for any indication that he was lying, but he looked back at her steadily now, his gaze never wavering.

“I’m sure,” he said. “I am so, so sorry.”

She gave his hands a squeeze. “OK.”

“OK, what?”

“OK, then I forgive you,” she answered.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his eyes still locked with hers.

Jane nodded back and tried to smile at him reassuringly. “She never existed,” Jane said.

He let out a long breath. “She was just a—” he wiped one arm back and forth in the air as if to expunge that other Jane from his memory. “She was just a bad dream.”

He reached with one hand into his pocket, then, and she watched as he pulled out the remote control for the stereo. He looked down at it for a moment and then met her eyes again with a little shrug.

 “What song?” she asked.

“Guess.”

She felt the corners of her mouth tugging up in spite of everything that passed between them. Still the same Adam, she thought. Still playing songs for her, whenever things between them needed fixing.

She raised her eyebrows at him. “Let’s Get It On?” she guessed.

He grinned back, shaking his head. Then he turned toward the stereo and hit Play.

She recognized the song from the first note, of course. He had cued up one of her old Adele albums. It was the song he’d used for his wedding vows. She felt her smile fade and a lump form in her throat as she listened to the first verse of Lovesong.

Whenever I’m alone with you,

You make me feel like I am home again.

Whenever I’m alone with you,

You make me feel like I am whole again…

Adam crossed the room and gathered her in his arms, cradling her against him as they start to slow dance. She looked up into his face.

“No more lies,” he said.

She nodded. “Tell me the truth then. If it’s not her, what is it? What’s really going on?”

“The truth,” he whispered. “The truth is, I’m scared out of my mind.”

“Scared of what?”

He swallowed hard to steady himself before he answered. “That I’m going to break you,” he said with a shaky breath. “I’m going to break you again.”

“You didn’t—Adam, what do you mean?”

“It was my fault.”

She shook her head at him. “How?”

He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again, raising one hand and gently running his thumb across her cheek instead. “I should have seen it,” he said at last. “You knew something was wrong. That morning.” He looked down at her, his face naked now with pain and guilt. “It was staring me right in the face, and I didn’t see it. I was too busy trying to—trying to get it on. You were dying, Jane, and all I could think about—“

“It wasn’t your fault!” she interrupted him. “Adam, that doesn’t make any sense.” 

“I’m not saying it makes sense. I’m just telling you the truth.”

She stared up at him in disbelief, unable to speak for a moment. “So now what?” she asked. “Now you’re punishing yourself?”

“I don’t want to break you again.”

“Adam,” she wrapped her arms around his neck and ran her fingers through the hair at the back of his head. “I’m not made of glass,” she whispered.

“I know.”

“I’m flesh and blood.”

“Believe me, I’m aware.” He tightened his arms around her as they swayed to the music.

However far away, I will always love you.

However long I stay, I will always love you.

Whatever words say, I will always love you…

“Do you remember the last time we danced to Adele?” he asked her.

She nodded and smiled wistfully, thinking back to that night after the concert – the night their daughter was conceived.

“Yeah,” he said, following her thoughts. “I guess things didn’t turn out quite the way we expected.”

“I need to be alive again now,” she responded. “We both do.”

“So let’s try this again,” he said. “Let’s take it from the top. Just this time with a different ending.”

She looked up into his face and saw everything she needed to know – and she knew he could see her answer there in her eyes. She didn’t need to say the words, but she said them anyway. “I love you.”

“Always,” he replied. “I wouldn't have made that vow unless I meant it, Jane. I will always love you.”

He led her over to the couch then and slowly, tenderly, he began to undress her, softly kissing each piece of skin as he exposed it. When she was naked, he stood and she began to undo the buttons of his shirt. Her hands were steady now as she pulled his shirt open and ran her fingers across the contours of his chest. He reached down and picked her up in his arms, like he had that other night – their wedding night – when he’d picked her up and carried her over the threshold of their honeymoon suite. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and as he gently placed her body on the couch, he kissed her. A real kiss. Not the little pecks goodnight he’d been giving her up to now. Not the violent, anguished kiss he’d given her this afternoon. A real kiss. A deep, burning kiss – the kind that left her dizzy, reeling, drunk with desire.

She kissed him back, drinking in every drop of that familiar feeling – the fire that started as a warm glow in the pit of her stomach. The flame that spread and spread and slowly spread, until it reached to the tips of her fingers and the backs of her knees and the base of her skull, until it burned all other thoughts into sweet oblivion.

Then he eased himself onto the couch, and Jane knew nothing but the pressure of his body bearing down on top of her as she let her eyes drift closed.

***

Amy’s eyes slowly opened as she hit the final chorus.

Never mind, I'll find someone like you.
I wish nothing but the best for you two…

She met the gaze of the man who had requested the song. He was standing at the corner of the bar, staring at her fixedly, and she eyed him back as she sang. That suit he was wearing looked expensive. He probably had money to burn. She wondered how many drinks she could string him along for before he tried to take her home. Maybe she should go with him anyway, if there was booze in it for her. Anything to drown out the memory of the look on Adam’s face last night, all decked out in his tuxedo, kissing his beautiful wife.

Don't forget me, I beg.
I remember you said,
Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead.
Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead.

The bar patrons broke into a round of whistles and applause as she played the final notes. Amy looked around in surprise and then brought one hand to her cheek, suddenly realizing that her mascara was running. She stood awkwardly, trying to shield her face from view with her hands as she made her way through the crowd to bathroom, but the man who requested the song came up and caught her by the elbow.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“I’m Amy.” She shrugged one shoulder, trying to pull her arm free, but he gripped her tightly.

“Amy what?”

“Just Amy.” She grabbed a cocktail napkin off the bar and began dabbing at her face with it.

“Do you have an agent?”

She laughed at the question. “Seriously?” she responded, raising her eyebrows at him.

“How is it possible?” He was shaking his head in bewilderment. “How is it possible that someone like you doesn’t have an agent?”

She shrugged. “I guess I don’t have a lot of things.”

 “Well, you’ve got something.”

“Do I?” she replied, looking down at the napkin that was now smeared with black. “What’s that? What do I have?”

“You’ve got a voice,” the man said. He ran his eyes up and down the length of her body. “You’ve got a look,” he continued, before returning his gaze to her face. “And from the looks of you, I’m guessing you’ve got a song or two of your own to sing.”

She laughed, balling the dirty napkin up and tossing it back onto the bar. “Maybe I do.”

“Just one more thing you need now.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked, as the man reached into his pocket and handed her a business card.

Raymond Hathaway

Vice President, Artists & Repetoire

Columbia Records

“Now,”  he said distractedly, taking the card out of her hand and jotting a cell phone number on the back. “Now, my dear Amy,“ he continued, as he passed the card back to her and flashed her a Hollywood smile. “Now all you need is a name.”