Текст книги "Red Carpet Kiss"

Автор книги: Melissa Brown

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Troy tapped his fingers on the white linen tablecloth as he stared at the door, waiting for Rigby to emerge. She and the actor had been gone for far too long and he was on the verge of straight-up exasperation. This entire environment made him ridiculously uncomfortable. The gowns, the tuxedos, the pretentious assholes seated at his table. One was drunk off her ass and staring at him with a sick grin on her face.

He attempted to ignore her, but she simply wasn’t having it. “Hey, handsome.” She waited for him to make eye contact. When he did, her next statement came out in a sing-songy tone, as if she was trying to make him feel even worse about his kinda-sorta girlfriend wandering off with her ex. “They’ve been gone an awfully long ti-ime . . .”

“Shut up, Gina,” Whitney snapped. Troy took a sip of his scotch, attempting (yet again) to ignore the intoxicated star of the show, knowing she was probably upset about losing in her category.

“I’m ignoring you, whore.” Gina’s eyes stayed on Troy as she snapped at Whitney.

“Whoa!” Nolan interrupted. “There’s no need for that language.”

“Shut up!” Both women yelled at the actor, who raised his eyebrows and sat back in his chair with his hands up in the air, obviously retiring from the entire conversation.

Nolan nudged Troy in the arm. “I tried, man.”

“I wonder if they’re in the coat closet . . . or a bathroom stall,” Gina said. “Either way, someone’s getting nailed.”

Whitney stood and glared at Gina. “I swear to God, if you say one more thing about my friend I will rearrange your freaking face.”

“It’s all right, Whitney. She’s not bothering me.” Troy attempted to defuse the situation, taking another sip of his drink, trying to calm his nerves. He offered Whitney a polite smile with his lips pressed into a thin line. “No big deal.”

“Bitch,” Gina slurred before taking another sip of champagne. Whitney rolled her eyes and started typing on her cell phone. Troy wondered if she was trying to reach Rigby, to let her know her absence was noticed in a major way.

“Enough,” Rob the director said between clenched teeth. Troy could tell his patience was wearing thin with Gina’s antics. “Reporters and bloggers are all over this place.”

Gina perked up, a smug look on her inebriated face. “Hey, as long as we’re making headlines—”

“I mean it, Gina.” Rob bared his teeth at the actress. “The last thing we need is bad press at the Globes. Get yourself under control . . . right now.”

Kingston returned to the ballroom, and despite the fact his appearance was not disheveled in any way, Troy wasn’t convinced nothing had happened. Trusting Rigby was not his strong suit. He knew he was one to hold a grudge—and he held one against her for a decade. Weeks ago, he promised her he was done with that, promised the grudge would end to give them a real chance. But as he watched the actor casually return to the table, take a sip of his drink, and lean back in the chair to talk quietly with Whitney, Troy’s insecurities bubbled to the surface, and his old friend the grudge yelled at him. Loudly.

She’s not yours. Never has been. Even when she walked down that aisle.

Troy gritted his teeth, waiting for Rigby to return to the theater. A beautiful television star was holding an envelope and introducing nominees for Best Actor in a Drama Series.

“This is it,” Nolan said, nudging Troy.

“Good luck,” Troy said, noticing Rigby standing by the door, unable to return to her seat while an award was being announced. They locked eyes and she offered a smile. Skeptically, Troy returned it. He had no intention of ruining her big night, no matter how conflicted he felt inside. He watched as she pressed her interlaced fingers toward her chest. She wanted Nolan, and the show, to be rewarded for their hard work. He could tell she was holding her breath as her eyes remained glued to the stage. God, she was beautiful.

Nolan’s name was announced as the winner, and the standard music began to play. Nolan rose to his feet, shaking Troy’s and Rob’s hands before walking to the stage. Instead of watching the actor, though, Troy’s eyes darted back to Rigby, who was bouncing with excitement on her toes. Troy was so proud of her, of the world she created for these characters, of the recognition it had garnered her. She deserved every drop of success Hollywood had to offer her. As he watched her, he listened to Nolan’s speech.

“Wow. What an honor. First of all, thank you to the Hollywood foreign press for this incredible honor. Also, I need to thank the woman who created Desmond and Molly and everything that goes into this show. Even though this is my final season, I’ll always be grateful to Elle Riley for giving me this chance on one of the best television shows ever written. I want to thank my agent, my publicist, and our director, Rob. Gina, what can I say? It’s been one hell of a ride, sweetheart. And lastly, to Whitney Bartolina . . . thank you for inspiring me, baby. This one’s for you!”

Troy turned his attention to Whitney when he heard that final sentence and was baffled when Whitney didn’t seem pleased with the dedication. In fact, she seemed annoyed as she rolled her eyes and shook her head, diving back into her cocktail. Troy couldn’t figure these people out. He couldn’t imagine how he would feel if Rigby thanked him in a speech heard by millions. But he liked to think he’d feel grateful rather than irritated.

“This blows, I need a smoke.” Gina stood, her legs wobbly as she passed Rigby on her way to the smoking terrace. Troy, although concerned the terribly inebriated actress might get herself into even more trouble, knew it was not his place to do anything about it, especially since Rigby was walking toward him with a satisfied grin on her face. Her expression was contagious and he found himself smiling right along with her.

“Oh my God, he won,” Rigby boomed when she returned to the table. “This is amazing!”

She and Whitney exchanged an awkward glance and Troy became curious. Then he noticed Whitney and Nolan weren’t even sitting together. That dedication was starting to seem odd. Troy resigned himself to the fact this group would continue to confuse him—he’d never quite understand their dynamic, nor did he care to. Rigby was his focus, not them.

Rigby settled in next to Troy and he placed his hand on her thigh. “Congratulations. You know he won because of you.” And it was the truth. It also wasn’t lost on Troy that Nolan’s character was based on him. Troy was, for all intents and purposes, the character of Desmond, and he couldn’t help but feel proud for inspiring her to create such a character. Even if he was cloaked in heartbreak.

She kissed his cheek, smiling with gratitude. “Thank you for saying that.”

“It’s the truth.” He smiled, moving his hand from her thigh to wrap around her shoulder, pulling her close. He could feel the actor watching his movements, and he didn’t care. He wasn’t giving up so easily. He and Rigby had a history Kingston couldn’t possibly comprehend.

“Only a few more awards until Best Drama. Now that Nolan’s won, I’m jumping out of my skin.” Rigby hopped up and down in her chair, showing her vulnerability and excitement. As usual, it was infectious and Troy wanted her to take home that award more than anything. She deserved it.

Nolan returned to the table, hugging Rigby and Rob, and shaking hands with Troy and Luke. He approached Whitney, attempting to pull her in for a hug, but she pushed her hand into his shoulder and mumbled, “We need to talk.”

“What’s that all about?” Troy whispered into Rigby’s ear as the two made their way toward the lobby.

“Long story. I’ll tell you later, okay?” she said, looking sheepish as she peered at Whitney through the corner of her eye.

Troy kissed her forehead, not wanting to cause her any stress. Clearly, Whitney’s unhappiness became hers as well. That was always something he adored about his longtime love. She internalized the feelings of those around her. Regardless of her driven nature, she was quite talented at putting herself in the shoes of others—something Troy himself admittedly struggled with. It was difficult for him to see outside his own comfort zone, his own emotions. He tried, especially when it came to Rigby, but clearly he came up short.

As they settled in for another award announcement, Troy’s mind drifted back ten years, as it did frequently whenever she was near. The anger consuming him had dictated his actions. Even though, at the time, he loved her more than he loved another human being on the planet, he managed to treat her as if she didn’t exist within a day of her confessing she couldn’t be married.

What he heard that morning in Las Vegas was she couldn’t be married to him. Because, deep down, he knew in his gut, that was exactly the case. After all, he always felt Rigby’s feelings for him could never and would never match the intensity of his own. And so, when she made herself sick the morning after their wedding, the wedding he tried so hard to make perfect for her, he knew in his gut he was correct.

She didn’t love me enough. Not nearly enough. Not the way I’d always loved her.

For weeks, she reached out to him. She came to his apartment almost every day and he looked through the peephole, seeing her distraught features, her bloodshot eyes. But he couldn’t put himself in her shoes. All he could feel was his own pain, his own disappointment and anger. He wanted to believe she loved him, but the truth of the matter was, he couldn’t do it. Each time she arrived at his door, he’d look through the tiny window the size of a thimble, take in her expression, and press his forehead to the door, his hands against the wood. Then, he’d take a deep breath and retreat to his bedroom, closing the door and blaring his music.

He started sleeping with Amanda less than two weeks after returning from Las Vegas. He hated himself for leading her on, but he was inexplicably drawn to his ex-girlfriend during times of heartache. And if he was being honest, there was a part of him that wanted Rigby to know he was seeing Amanda again. He knew how to hurt her, and he knew how to do it well. She was right when she asked about Amanda looking through the peephole. He sent her to the door just once, when he was feeling especially angry and full of resentment. He wasn’t proud of that, or the fact that he’d gotten her pregnant. Payton, however, was someone he would never regret. He was blessed to be her father, no matter the circumstances.

When Rigby slid the annulment papers under the door, he knew it was over. She’d given up. He was finally free of his attachment to her, or at least that’s what he told himself.

Even now, he feared, despite the miles or time apart, he might never be free of her. Time, space, distance—none of it seemed to make a difference. And so, when she materialized in his restaurant months earlier, he let his guard down, albeit slightly. And now he was seated next to her during the pinnacle of her career—just minutes away from a possible Golden Globe win. With each smile that crossed her face, with each squeeze of her hand with his, he was letting go of that anger, of that pain. He was forgiving her—something he didn’t know he was capable of. And it felt nice.

Now, if he could only get visions of her with Kingston out of his head. He was in no way naive when it came to that situation, or the fact the actor clearly affected her. After hours sitting at a table with the two of them, the tension was palpable. He noticed the stolen glances, the way she avoided looking across the table.

Troy wanted to laugh at the irony of the situation. For years, his anger and resentment were the biggest barrier placed between Rigby and himself. And now that he was finally ready to forgive, to break down that mammoth of a barrier and move on with her, creating a future together as a couple, he was faced with a different obstacle. One named Luke Kingston, a man who’d entered her life only months prior.

Perhaps he’d missed his chance. Perhaps ten years was just too long.

But he wasn’t ducking out so quickly, even though his old friend The Grudge was urging him to. The thought of being humiliated again was horrible. But missing his one shot with Rigby was even worse. So he would wait to hear it from her. Until that moment, if and when it happened, he would enjoy his time with her, squeezing her hand, and pulling her close as she enjoyed the biggest night of her life.

And the Golden Globe goes to . . . Follow the Sun,” the legendary film director announced from the stage as he clutched the envelope under his arm and clapped his hands. The crowd erupted in applause as the announcer continued over the loudspeaker. “Accepting this award on behalf of the show is Elle Riley, creator, head writer, and show runner of Follow the Sun.”

Elle jumped to her feet as every nerve in her body stood at attention. Her hands clasped over her mouth as the air in her lungs stood still. Troy stood to embrace her, a look of pride on his handsome face. Trembling, she wrapped her arms around his neck, squeezing him hard, grateful he could be there to share in the moment. A moment she never dreamed possible. Her show was deemed by the Hollywood Foreign Press Association as the best drama on television. What a staggering, humbling honor. Before she stepped away, Troy opened her tiny handbag and retrieved the speech she had prepared weeks earlier. She thanked him, knowing she would have completely forgotten to bring it with her to the stage.

Everyone at the table rose to his or her feet, shaking hands and exchanging hugs, joining her as she walked to the stage. Just before her unsteady legs attempted to climb the tiny flight of stairs, a familiar hand took hers in his own, to guide her gently to the top. Relief poured through her body, grateful for his assistance. The last thing she needed was to fall flat on her face in front of a thousand members of the industry.

“You did it!” Luke boomed over the applauding audience once they reached the large expanse of stage. Whitney, Rob, and everyone else at the table, aside from Troy, gathered around her as the heavy golden statue was placed in her hands.

She stood before the microphone and looked out into the massive audience. Tears of amazement and gratitude brewed in her eyes as she leaned in to deliver her speech. She cleared her throat and began.

“I can’t believe I’m standing here,” she said off the cuff before she wiped her brow with the back of her quivering hand and looked down at her note cards. The thick paper bounced between her trembling fingertips. “It’s an honor and a privilege to be a part of this show. First and foremost, to the Hollywood foreign press—it was such an honor to be among those nominated tonight. I’m delighted to work with the cast and crew of our show each and every day. Nolan, Gina, and Luke, you make this show what it is—you each bring so much talent and creativity to the table and we couldn’t do it without you. Rob Morris, Whitney Bartolina, and everyone else who makes this show possible each week, thank you for your tireless work and for supporting me with each storyline we’ve undertaken. And finally, thank you to a very special man named Troy who came to support me tonight. You’re the reason I’m standing here, whether you know it or not. So thank you. Thank you so very much.”

The lights were so bright Elle was unable to find Troy in the audience, let alone make eye contact with him. But she could only hope he was touched by her speech. It was because of their love story that Follow the Sun came to be. He deserved recognition, even if it was painful to accept.

They were guided offstage by the award presenter. When they were out of sight, Luke wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her into his strong chest. Within seconds, he lifted her by her waist and twirled her in the air. Her fingers gripped his shoulders as she threw her head back in absolute joy.

When he lowered her to the floor, Elle, who was smiling from ear to ear, looked into Luke’s bright eyes. They were backstage and the production crew was shuffling this way and that. It seemed everyone was moving in fast-forward motion as they stood together, their eyes connecting as Luke beamed with pride.

“I think this is the best and worst day of my life,” Elle said, smoothing down his disheveled hair. Luke took her hand in his and pressed it to his chest. His heart was thumping wildly beneath his tuxedo.

“Focus on the good. Everything else will work itself out.”

Elle wanted to be as optimistic as Luke often was. She wanted to view the world as a place filled with endless opportunities and limitless potential. She wanted to ignore the turmoil building within her as she was torn between the two men in her life. Celebration seemed almost impossible when she felt this way. No matter what she did, someone would be hurt. Wouldn’t he?

As if he somehow read her thoughts, Luke pressed his lips gently to her forehead and sighed. “I’ll stay out of the way. But that doesn’t mean I’m giving up. This was your story, the two of you, and you should celebrate together. So for tonight, I’ll give you your space.”

Luke released her hand and started to walk away. “Wait,” she called after him, her voice urgent and filled with nerves. “Will you be at the after-party?”

He smiled. “Of course. Wouldn’t miss it.”

Relief came over her as she nodded and lifted her hand to blow him a kiss. In a silly, overly dramatic form, Luke pretended to leap in the air to catch it just in time. Elle giggled as he placed it in the pocket of his tuxedo. He patted the fabric, and for just a moment, he looked sad. His smile was replaced by a contemplative gaze. He raised his hand, gave her a subtle wave, and disappeared into the swarm of production assistants and staff who were preparing to announce the final awards of the evening.

“We’re so impressed with you, Elle, and I want you to know we’ve been giving your show ideas much thought.” Saul Greenberg, the network president, had cornered her beside the pool. Troy was seated next to her, his hand on her thigh as they listened to Saul, a tall, portly man, encourage Elle and her success at the award ceremony. Elle knew awards such as these were a major factor in renewed contracts and future opportunities. She was thrilled Saul was pleased.

“Is that right?”

“Indeed.” He took a drink of his cocktail, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “In fact, I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but since this is my fifth drink, I don’t really care. We like them all—we’re having trouble deciding.”

“Well, maybe you can increase your entire fall lineup,” Elle joked, nudging him in the elbow. Saul erupted in laughter.

“You never know, young lady.” Elle cringed at being referred to as a young lady. She was thirty-five freaking years old. She forced a smile, however, knowing that Saul a) was drunk and b) could make or break her career with just one phone call. “Just keep doing what you’re doing, and the possibilities will be endless.”

“Thank you, sir.” Elle stood and smoothed down her party dress. She and Whitney had changed into shorter, more comfortable cocktail dresses before arriving at Saul’s estate. “I’m going inside to use the ladies’ room. Troy, can I get you something to drink?”

“You know”—Troy stood and took Elle’s hand in his—“my glass is getting low. I’ll get our drinks while you use the washroom.”

“Great.” Elle squeezed Troy’s hand. “It was a pleasure speaking to you, Mr. Greenberg. You have an absolutely gorgeous home.”

Saul raised his glass and winked before leaning back into his soft outdoor armchair. Elle and Troy quickly retreated into the house.

“I don’t really need to pee. I just had to get away from him. He was really making me uncomfortable.”

Troy sighed. “Same here. I’m glad you said something. I wasn’t going to pull you away from him, or anyone from the network. C’mon, let’s get another drink.”

It felt like they had been drinking for almost eight hours, and yet, Elle never reached more than a delightfully steady buzz. Thank goodness she remembered to eat, and food was plentiful at the awards show and now at Saul Greenberg’s enormous mansion. When they reached the indoor bar, Troy ordered two glasses of scotch, handing one to Elle. They toasted the evening and the success of the show before linking arms and strolling through the expansive first floor of the home. Cast, crew, and executives from all of the network’s shows were walking through the elegant estate. Elle and Troy made their way to the empty foyer to escape the loud music at the back of the house, where most of the partygoers were drinking, eating, and celebrating. Marble floors and two winding staircases led to the second floor.

“God, this place,” Troy began, taking a sip of his scotch. “I can’t even imagine. I thought your place was huge, but this is . . . well, it’s like a compound.”

Elle giggled, nodding. “I think I’d get lost here.”

“Should we go back outside? They have a dance floor, ya know.”

One thing Troy and Elle were good at was dancing. Back in college, they actually took swing dance lessons with a few of their friends and learned several routines. In each one, Troy would flip Elle’s entire body over, until she landed back on her feet. Swing dancing led to salsa, which led to ballroom dance. The one place they never argued was on the dance floor.

“Ahh, do they now, Mr. Saladino?” Elle placed one hand on her hip. “Do you still have your moves?”

“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” Troy offered Elle his arm, a flirtatious grin on his face. Playfully, Elle puckered her lips and narrowed her eyes, looping her arm through his and allowing him to lead her back outside. The warm breeze of the evening swept through her hair and down her back. The evening was turning out just lovely.

“Kingston!” a voice shrieked from inside the house. “Where is he? Where is that rat bastard?”

Gina.

Tearing through the crowd of partygoers, Gina searched wildly for Luke, who was talking with a small group of men near the pool. Elle watched as he craned his neck, making eye contact with Gina. And then he rolled his eyes as she stormed toward him.

“The E! network? How could you do that?”

“Calm down, Gina,” Luke responded, his voice low, so as not to draw more attention to them. But Gina was having none of it.

“Calm down? I will not calm down! You screwed me! Now the whole world thinks I’m a liar!”

“Knows,” Luke corrected her. “The whole world knows you’re a liar.”

“Screw you, Luke.”

Elle watched in awe, not having any understanding of what they were talking about. But she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious. In fact, curious didn’t do her emotions justice. She was dying to know. Without even realizing it, her feet inched toward them until her toes reached the concrete around the pool. Across the glistening water, she watched as their argument continued.

“You need to sleep this off.” Luke touched Gina’s elbow, but she pulled away.

“I don’t need to do anything! My publicist just spent the better half of this party screaming at me, you asshole!”

Whitney approached Luke and Gina, looking embarrassed at Gina’s ridiculous display. “What the hell is going on?”

“Him. He told E! News I lied.”

Whitney crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You did, didn’t you?”

Gina looked exasperated, flailing her arms and throwing her head back and screaming into the air, “Of course I did! And if this idiot were smart, he would’ve just gone along with it! Now I’m the laughingstock of Hollywood!”

Luke shrugged, his words stern and unwavering. “I told you I wasn’t interested, Gina, but you did it anyway. What the hell did you expect? I’m not your puppet.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Gina threw her head wildly from side to side before locking eyes with Elle across the pool. “You’re her puppet! Isn’t that right, Elle?”

Luke grabbed Gina’s elbow. “Do not bring her into this.”

Elle’s heart raced as she watched everything transpire, doing her best to process what, in her heart, she already knew to be true. Luke had nothing to do with the Us Weekly article or a showmance of any kind. It was Gina. All Gina.

“Or what?” Gina pulled away from his grasp, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Whitney took a few steps to stand beside the actress. “Oh for God’s sake, shut up!” With one swift nudge from Whitney, Gina’s heels wobbled over the edge of the pool until she plunged into the water. She screeched as her arms splashed about. Most of the attendees watched as Gina popped back to the surface. Once she did, Elle, Luke, and everyone else near the pool looked to Whitney with mouths agape.

“What?” Whitney raised one shoulder, her hand resting gently on her hip, like it was no big deal. “It’s the shallow end.”

Elle pressed her hand to her mouth, her chest heaving with laughter. She wanted nothing more than to run around the pool and tackle Whitney with a grateful hug. But she refrained. Instead, she watched as Nolan walked to the steps of the pool, offering Gina his hand. Surprised by his compassion, Elle smiled. The actress attempted to pull him into the pool with her, but Nolan anchored himself with the handrail, shaking his head at her as he guided her up the steps.

She was soaked, her chiffon dress like a second skin on her body. Elle curled her lips underneath her teeth, her hand still blocking her mouth as she watched the actress, who looked ridiculous. One of the waiters brought her a towel, wrapping it around her body and guiding her into the mansion.

Elle stood, watching Luke from across the pool. When his eyes found hers, he smiled—a smile Elle could only describe as relieved. She finally knew the truth—but that didn’t make their situation any less precarious. He polished off his drink, placed it on a server’s tray, and gave Elle a salute, bidding her good night. Her stomach tied itself in knots as she watched him hug Whitney and shake the hands of those around him, before turning and exiting the party.

“Well, that was interesting.” Troy’s arms were crossed in front of his broad chest. “Poor girl.”

“Poor girl? Do you know the hell that poor girl has put me through? The lies she’s told, the damage she’s done?”

Although true, her words were venomous and Elle regretted them the second she finished uttering them. She was backing herself in a corner with Troy, forcing him to learn more than she wanted him to know about her failed relationship with Luke.

“Still,” Troy said, shaking his head, “she didn’t deserve that.”

“She’ll dry off and be fine. But the damage she’s done . . . it’s so much more than a ruined gown. Trust me.”

“I guess I’ll have to,” Troy replied with a furrowed brow. “Because I know almost nothing about your life, Rigby. I’m on a need-to-know basis, I guess.”

Elle turned on her heel and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Excuse me?”

“Listen.” He ran his hands through his hair before placing his hand behind her back and leading her to a quiet spot near the dance floor. “I realized tonight I know almost nothing about your life, and that sucks.”

“That’s what happens when you disappear for ten years.”

Troy flinched. She’d finally said it. Finally said what she had been dying to say for months. Conflicted relief flooded her body. The words, albeit satisfying, were weapons, aimed to inflict pain. She knew it, as did he.

“Let’s not do this here, Eleanor.”

Elle rolled her eyes. “Don’t say my name as if you’re scolding me.”

“I’m not calling you Elle.”

“And why not? What would be the harm?”

“Because that’s not who you are—it’s who you want all of them to think you are.”

Enraged, Elle’s eyes widened. “And what is that, exactly? A success? A Golden Globe–winning show runner? Is it so difficult for you to see me as anything but the bitch who broke your heart?”

“No.” Troy looked up at the darkened sky. “Look, I didn’t mean that, I just . . . why do I feel like we always veer off course? We’re fine one minute, bickering the next. I hate it.”

“I hate it, too.”

“All night long, I’ve watched you. I’ve watched you and Kingston—and don’t even get me started on your little disappearing act.”

“Nothing happened. I wouldn’t do that to you, Troy. Never.”

“But you wanted to, didn’t you?”

Elle had no response. The truth would be too painful. Troy was slipping through her fingers and their fight was heading in such a speed, she was powerless to stop it. She just had to hold on, take her lumps, and do her best to survive it.

“For God’s sake, Rigby, just tell the truth. What do you want?”

“I don’t know!”

“Let me rephrase. Who do you want, Rigby? Who?”

Elle closed her eyes tight. “Luke,” she whispered, unable to look Troy in the eye. “I want Luke.”

“I knew it.” Troy’s voice cracked.

“I was falling in love with him before you resurfaced in my life. And that love . . . it won’t go away, no matter how much I try. It consumes me.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Troy bared his teeth before pressing his lips together tightly. His eyes avoided hers as they stood in the moonlight.

“I’m so sorry, Troy. So very sorry I dragged you into this.”

“Was this some sort of revenge or something?”

Elle shook her head, quickly, back and forth, back and forth. Shocked by the question. For months, she’d wondered the same thing about Troy’s intentions—never, for even one minute, did she consider he might question her motives.

“Absolutely not. I promise you with all that I am.”

“Then what?” Troy’s face fell, his eyes soft and pleading. “What do you want from me?”

Elle hesitated as she thought the question through. “I want to be forgiven.”

Troy said nothing. He turned and walked in the opposite direction. Elle gasped, wondering if those would be the last words she’d ever say to him. Her eyes grew wet as he walked to the DJ’s booth. Confused, Elle watched as he leaned in and spoke into the DJ’s ear. The young man behind the booth nodded and Troy shook his hand.

Troy returned to Elle and they stood in awkward silence for a moment before he offered her his hand. Elle was confused, at first, but placed her fingertips in the palm of his hand and followed him to the dance floor. The familiar notes of “Here, There and Everywhere” filled the air. She stared at Troy in wonder.