Decades

Love Isn't Always Pretty

"And then, you just hit the little arrow to send it," Karen explained to Stevie. "I thought when you said you needed a 'fire phone' that you meant you needed it in case of a fire. Not so you could start one," her long-time assistant and friend teased.

Stevie giggled like the mischievous 14-year-old that she was on the inside.

Karen had been busy opening emails on her laptop from Lindsey so Stevie could read them. Some messages made her happy, and others made her mad, and a lot of them left her feeling sad. But, most of all, she was happy to know he still felt as much for her as she'd felt for him despite what had happened between them. Maybe if they'd written to each other years earlier, they could have communicated better and worked things out.

They'd had a terrible time expressing themselves. They'd let things escalate when they shouldn't have, Stevie had run away when she should have stayed, and Lindsey applied an overwhelming amount of pressure when giving her space would have been far more effective.

So many regrettable decisions. Their lives had been a series of them. They'd discussed them at length in New York years earlier before things once again went sideways for the former couple.

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When Lindsey arrived back on their floor, Don was not in the hallway. He was sure that he'd already wormed his way into Stevie's suite. Maybe she did invite him there. She might have lied to avoid a scene.

Lindsey entered his suite as quietly as he could, his stomach in a knot over Stevie and Don being alone together next door. He braced himself to stay away and just observe what was happening. If Stevie wanted Don, she could have him. Lindsey thought that couldn't make her love him if she didn't already.

Lindsey feared the other musician was swooping in at the perfect time to catch Stevie feeling vulnerable. She had to be raw from the fight they'd had over the course of the last two days, and she was coked up out of her mind. It felt like a bad combo.

Lindsey walked to the door that joined their suites and turned the knob quietly, he was able to give the door a push, and it opened noiselessly. He didn't enter but stood there feeling like a peeping Tom as he tried to see if Don was inside.

Stevie had her back to him, and Don was in front of her, just as he'd feared.

Stevie was wearing an oversized robe, and her hair was still wrapped in a towel from her earlier bath. Her voice was hoarse from all the screaming and crying she'd recently done. He knew she must be concerned since they had to perform again so soon. He felt guilty for tormenting her the way he had. Her face was swollen from crying, and her eyes were bloodshot. She didn't feel or look her best.

Don was asking if she was okay. "I was worried about you when you and Buck were being escorted out of the place. You didn't look like you were okay. I got away as quickly as I could to check on you. Are you alright?"

Stevie shrugged, "I'm fine, I guess."

"Baby, I don't mean to sound critical. But, I'm standing in front of you and looking at you right now, and it's pretty clear to me that you are not anywhere close to fine," Don told her. "I'm concerned about you," Stevie wiped her eyes, humiliated that her relationship could be such a trainwreck that it worried the people who cared about her.

"You know, you don't have to live like this." Don reached out for her, placing a hand on each side of her face, holding it in his hands, forcing her to look at him.

"Stevie, you're too good for him. You don't need this kind of bullshit in your life."

"It's bad right now," she shot Don a look that told him how embarrassed she felt.