“Carla?” Her name rang out from behind her.

She spun around to see Adam walking toward her, wearing a wide smile. He’d changed into a gray suit and a white T-shirt, with a leather satchel across his body. Now that he’d removed his eyeliner, she could see his face was tanned with friendly crinkles around his eyes. Offstage, his spiky black hair looked too dark and heavy, as if he was wearing a hat made of raven feathers. She recalled he had a badly etched bat tattoo on his shoulder that she’d once thought was the epitome of “cool.”

And, oh god, she still found him attractive.

“Hi,” she said, tentatively raising a hand in a wave. As Adam grew closer, he looked even more handsome and she swallowed awkwardly.

“Shall we head down toward the beach?” he asked.

“Sure.”

They started walking in step.

“Mind if I take this off? I forgot I was wearing it.” Adam reached up and pulled his hair so it came away in his hand, revealing his bald head underneath. He stuffed the wig into his satchel. “I sometimes think it’s part of me.”

“Oh.” Carla stopped dead and tried not to stare. “I didn’t know...” She narrowed her eyes. “Did you wear that thing while we were dating?”

“I didn’t need it then.” He laughed.

“You don’t need it now.”

Adam ran his hand over his head. “My audience might disagree.”

“Do you give them the choice?”

“Fair point.”

It was like Adam had stripped away a layer to reveal the real person underneath, which made their rapport feel easier and more natural. Adam the fantasy figure was disappearing, replaced by a living, breathing middle-aged guy.

“How did you find me in the audience?” Carla asked.

“I dug out a couple of old photos of us and looked you up online. You run some kind of dating agency in the UK?”

She nodded. “Yes, Logical Love.”

“Great name, though surely the two words don’t fit together.”

“A bit like you and the wig.”

They laughed and the years retreated further away.

“You only performed a couple of your own songs onstage,” she observed.

Adam let out a sigh. “A major record label signed me, a few months after we split up. I was supposed to be their next big thing, but I didn’t score a hit and they dropped me pronto. I felt like a has-been in my midtwenties and didn’t have a backup plan. I lost my confidence and didn’t perform for a couple of years, until I met someone who helped me back on my feet. We got married, had a daughter and I found an office job selling car insurance.”

“That seems like a waste of your talent.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate you saying that. Music still called out to me. Everywhere I went, everything I did, there was always a soundtrack playing in my head as if I was in a movie,” Adam said. “I played a few gigs in hotels to pay my bills, and I’m still doing it. People on holiday want to hear old favorites, rather than anything I’ve written. I try to slip in a couple of my own tunes toward the end of the night. By then, they’ve had so much sangria they’ll sing along to anything.”

“I could tell which songs were yours. They were packed with emotion and stood out,” Carla said truthfully.

Adam patted a hand to his chest. “That means a lot to me. I wrote them for my daughter, Romy. She’s sixteen now and is probably a bit embarrassed to see her old dad wearing eyeliner.”

“I bet she’s proud, really.”

He flashed Carla a grateful grin. “Maybe. She’s been writing her own music since she was little, so I like to take a bit of credit for that.”

Piano music tinkled and candles flickered in the outdoor restaurants along the seafront. There was a smell of grilled fish, and the indigo sky was streaked with violet. Lights in the white houses on the hill made their walls shine ochre, accentuating their rows of tiny windows. Adam waved to several other performers they passed by, and Carla remembered all the fist bumps, high fives, kisses on both cheeks, hugs and phone numbers pushed into his pockets.

“It looks like you’re enjoying your life now,” she said.

“It took me a long time to find my happy place. My wife left me a few years ago and it’s been especially tough on Romy. I had to rely on babysitters and friends to look after her so I could perform. Things are getting easier now that she’s older.

“I still live by twilight, working while others enjoy themselves, and I sleep when they’re waking up. It’s not an ideal career for maintaining relationships, unless you’re with someone else in the business. Are you single or married?” he asked.

“I’m divorced and about to marry again, in less than three weeks’ time.”

“Oh, congrats. Good luck with that. I hope things work out. It’s a shame I didn’t have a crystal ball before I walked down the aisle. I wonder if I’d do things the same way again.”

Carla smiled to herself at his turn of phrase. “Well, actually, I did have one.” She began telling him about her visit to Myrtle and how she was tracing her past exes.

“So, you have the chance to make sure your future’s going to be rosy?” Adam remarked. “That’s amazing. I wish I’d had that. Tell me more about your business, too.”

She liked his positive spin on things and they chatted more as they walked. They sat down on a bench together, splaying their hands so their fingers almost touched. It was difficult to deny her growing sense of connection with him, her old emotions creeping back.

More pieces of the past slotted in place for Carla, like riding on the back of Adam’s motorcycle along the coastline at midnight, gazing up at the stars and kissing on the beach to the sound of the ocean waves.

“I loved your spontaneity,” Adam said, smiling at her with a twinkle in his eyes. “You used to meet me after my gigs and we’d make out in hotel corridors. Do you remember we first met because you jumped up onstage and grabbed my mic, demanding we duet together? You choked on the dry ice.”

Carla’s mouth flattened and she frowned at him. “It didn’t happen like that. You picked me out of the audience and invited me to join you.”

Adam shook his head. “No. I’d spotted you, we made eye contact, and your friends egged you on to climb up onstage. I worried you might trip over the wires. You had a coughing fit and I had to carry on singing, hoping you were okay. Security guards escorted you off the stage.”

“You led me off. You were really kind.” Carla stared at Adam, wondering which one of them was right. She wished they had a video recording, to replay the moment. How could two people remember something so differently?

“I wanted you to meet my family and you refused,” Adam remembered, breaking eye contact.

“Me?” Carla exclaimed. “I’d have loved that.”

“You found every excuse under the sun not to go. I had to constantly assure you that I loved you and wanted to take things further...”

“Our relationship was never that serious. We had lots of fun.” She crumpled her brow, her own memories confusing her. “I also remember crying on the plane when I left Portugal.”

“I was in tears, too.” Adam’s frown lines grew deeper. “You know what? I can’t actually remember why we split up.”

Carla twisted her lips. “Me, neither.” She wondered what other things from her past she might have rewritten or forgotten. Perhaps one of the men she’d previously dated had been more significant than she’d initially thought. “Whatever happened, I’m sorry. I really liked you.”

“Me, too.” He placed his hand on top of hers in a friendly, haphazard way. “I think we had something good together. Call it a premonition, but I knew we’d see each other again one day. I always wondered, what if?”