“Aren't you forgetting something? What about the good stuff?” Mary Stuart asked gently.

“I guess it kind of gets lost in the shuffle. You forget about that. I forget about it too, so I guess I can't really blame him. The only time I really like what I do is when I'm singing… when I'm recording, or in concert and I'm singing my guts out. I don't even care about the applause… it's just the music… and he doesn't get that, I do.

“He gets all the shit. I get the glory. I suspect he's sick of it. There was a story in the paper this week by some ex-employee we hired last year, the guy claims I came on to him, and then fired him when he wouldn't screw me. You know, your usual nice, homespun little story. It made the front page and embarrassed Tony with all his friends. I think it was kind of the last straw for him.”

“What about you? Where does that leave you?” Mary Stuart looked genuinely worried. They had worried about each other for years, even if they didn't talk all the time, or see each other constantly, or even live in the same city. But they both knew that they were always there for each other. “You're telling me that it's getting too hot for him, so he's leaving?”

“He hasn't said that yet, but he's going to. Right now, he wants ‘time off’ so he can go to Europe. Which leaves me taking his kids to a ranch in Wyoming, but that's okay too. I really love them.”

“I know you do. But I'm not exactly impressed by their father's chivalry and devotion.”

“So what else is new?” Tanya smiled ruefully, and squeezed Mary Stuart's hands. “What about you? How's Bill doing these days? Has it been as hard on him as it has on you?” It was written all over her face how much she'd been through.

“I suppose so.” She shrugged. “We don't talk about it much. There's nothing to say. You can't undo what happened.” Or the things they had said to each other about it.