He sees her, and then he sees Pam. The same body, but somehow not the same person. This woman is not the woman he'd fallen in love with.

That's not to say that he didn't love her, or his daughter, but...he didn't love her like a man should love his wife. 

"Another," he motioned at the man behind the bar. Hanging out and drinking alone at Poor Richard's is definitely not the smartest thing he's done, considering anyone he knows could walk in at any time. He downed the shot anyway.

She annoyed him. He'd loved quiet, shy Pam. Pam who needed rescuing, Pam who smiled so rarely that when she smiled at you, you knew she meant it. New Pam's told him so many times how grateful she is for him and the things he gave her: her confidence, her house, her daughter, her family, him and her back in one piece. New Pam took all of the things he'd given her and twisted them into things he should love but slowly grew to hate.

He didn't want anyone else, though. He wanted old Pam. Not because she needed saving or because he was a prince or he wanted her to be miserable; he wanted old Pam because at least old Pam smiled like she meant it.

She tried to give him time to himself (she had worked at Dunder Mifflin for a number of years - she knew how busy this time of year could be), but just as it does every day, 6:33 PM rolled around, and so did the almost daily text from his worried (She's worried about you, she loves you, she's not being needy or impatient. She's worried.) wife: "home soon?"

"Had a couple at Rich's. I walk or U drive me. Love J"

If she'd wanted to marry an alcoholic, oblivious man, she'd have married Roy Anderson.

She'll need saving again before this is all over.