Throughout his career, actor John Paravati has stuck with what he told the gossip rags -- he's been in like, in lust, even in respect once or twice, but never love. All he's ever cared about is performing. If he's stuck now doing commercials for cruise lines, at least it's better than shilling adult diapers.<br><br>But Hollywood pretends, and John is a master. Because once upon a time, he loved two things more than anything -- his best friend Frank and the movie palace he used as sanctuary.<br><br>Over fifty years ago, John ran away from his hometown. Now, someone has restored the theater he left behind, and they want John at its relaunch. The memories still sting, but he agrees to attend, even though it means dealing with heartache. At seventy-seven, he's too old to hold onto the hurt. The question is, however, is he too old to start over once it's gone?

The Hearts of Yesteryear

The sun peeked through his kitchen curtains when he heard Corrine’s door open and close. Five minutes later, she stood in the kitchen doorway, still clad in her Cookie Monster pjs, staring at him like he was a stranger.


“Good morning,” he said with a bright smile. It didn’t matter that he was as far from cheerful as one could possibly be. If he knew anything after all these years performing for cranky directors and ravenous fans, it was to never let that show.


She didn’t budge. “You’re making breakfast.”


He nudged the hash browns sizzling away in the frying pan with the edge of the spatula. “Are you not hungry?”


“No, I’m starved. But…” She gnawed on the corner of her lip, inching farther into the room. Her slippers made comforting swishing noises across the tile. “You’re never up this early when you don’t have a call. Are you okay?”


Chapter 7