Текст книги "Red Carpet Kiss"

Автор книги: Melissa Brown

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Bright sunlight streamed through Troy’s bedroom window. Elle rolled over to avoid starting the day, but was soon quite aware of the time when Troy opened the bedroom door.

“Rise and shine, sleepy.”

“Coffee, I smell coffee.” Her voice was deep and raspy from a restful night’s sleep. Troy entered the room, carrying a small tray. A tiny vase with one simple pink rose grabbed her attention immediately.

“Breakfast in bed. But you have to sit up.”

“You cooked? I love when you cook.” Elle eased up to a seated position and Troy placed the tray above her legs and a small kiss on her lips. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“Happy anniversary. We started dating a year ago today.”

Troy always was the romantic in their relationship. Elle couldn’t believe they’d been dating for an entire year. Where had the time gone? She was the happiest she’d ever been in almost twenty-five years. Which reminded her . . .

“And my birthday’s tomorrow.”

“I know.” He kissed her again, this time on the forehead. “It’s a big weekend. In fact, I thought we could talk about that.”

Elle took a large sip of coffee, savoring Troy’s ability to mix her favorite hazelnut roast with the perfect amount of cream and sugar. “Heaven in a cup” is what she called it, and no one made it as perfectly as he did. Not even she could duplicate his recipe.

“Talk about what? I’ll be twenty-five, no big deal. Let’s just go to dinner or something.”

“I had a better idea.”

Elle narrowed her eyes at Troy, whose expression had changed in an instant. He looked anxious as his fingers tapped quickly on his thigh.

“How about a trip?”

“Like a getaway?” Elle brightened at the idea, then bit her bottom lip, wondering where they might go.

“Something like that,” Troy replied. His fingers continued to tap anxiously as Elle pondered the possibilities. Where would they go? Perhaps a road trip up to Door County for wine sampling. Perhaps a trip down to Champaign to visit their alma mater. No matter the location, she could think of no better way to spend the weekend. Until she saw it.

Troy reached into his pocket, placing a velvet box on the tray.

“Oh my God,” Elle said, her voice deadpan and her eyes wide as she looked down at the unexpected gift. “Is that—?”

“Look, I know we’ve never talked about this, but . . . it’s all I can think about. You, me, a future together. I want to marry you, Rigby.”

Elle’s palms were sweating and adrenaline coursed through her veins.

Marriage? Really?

“Troy, I—”

“I remember back in college, you said you hated fancy weddings . . . you wanted to get married on a whim. You said it was ‘the epitome of romance.’”

Elle remembered saying that, but was astounded Troy remembered as well. He’d paid attention.

“Let’s do it, Rigby. Let’s get married today. I’m so in love with you.”

“Today?” Elle’s heart pounded and her belly flipped. She scrunched her nose as she pondered something she knew she wasn’t quite ready for. “I mean, I—”

Troy’s eyes were wide and bright, sparkling in the morning sunshine. Elle’s mouth went dry, overwhelmed by the proposal. They’d spent an entire year together, and unlike the past when all they could do was argue, they’d had three hundred and sixty-four days of absolute joy. Picnics in the park, museums on the weekends, nights on the couch with Chinese takeout or a Chicago-style pizza. Troy was thoughtful, protective, and romantic. And she loved him . . . more than she could ever imagine loving another person.

“Do you love me, Rigby?”

“Of course I do. You know that.”

“Please marry me. Please make me the happiest man alive.” A crease formed above his nose. To deny him happiness would kill her. And she loved Troy Saladino. She really did.

“Yes.” The word flew from her mouth. All she could think of was pleasing the man she loved so very much. “But where?”

“Where else? Vegas, baby.”

“Oh my God,” Elle whispered, struggling to catch her breath. “I’ve never been to Vegas.”

Everything Elle knew about Las Vegas she’d learned from movies and commercials. All she could picture was a dirty chapel with a pastor dressed up like Elvis Presley. Her stomach churned at the thought.

“Well, that’s about to change.”

Troy opened the box, revealing a simple princess-cut diamond on a white gold band. Elle sighed as she took in its beauty and simplicity. Troy knew her so well. They’d never looked at rings together, but if they had, this was the exact ring she would have selected. Simple, classy, and gorgeous. Troy eased it onto her shaky finger. A tear slid down her cheek as she looked into his eager eyes.

“It fits you perfectly.” Troy raised her fingertips to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on her pale skin.

“Are you sure about this?” Elle blurted out, again without considering the consequences of her words. Troy grimaced, but nodded firmly.

“I’ve never been more sure. But you . . . I want you to be sure. If this is too much, you can think about it, take some time, we can wait—”

Part of her wanted to take advantage of that offer. To ponder the idea of their future together. Hell, she’d only been awake for less than five minutes. And there was part of her that wasn’t even certain she was awake. What if this was all a dream? But her heart had other plans.

“No.” She shook her head decisively. “Eleanor Saladino. I like the sound of that.”

“Eleanor Rigby Saladino,” he corrected her.

“Right,” she said with a laugh. She took a bite of her buttery rye toast and another sip of coffee.

“You’ve seriously made me the happiest man alive.”

Troy leaned in, pushed her hair behind her shoulders, and placed soft kisses on the delicate skin of her neck. She shuddered with pleasure as his lips continued to explore her skin.

“So . . . when do we leave?”

Troy pulled back, running his fingers through his short dark hair. “Our flight leaves in three hours.”

“Holy crap.” Elle covered her mouth with her hand.

He’d already booked the flight?

Her brain was running a mile a minute, wondering just how long this plan had been in the works. How he’d been certain she’d say yes. She couldn’t let Troy see a look of consternation on her face. She did her best to focus on the present. “I guess we’d better get ready then.” Elle scarfed down her toast and downed her coffee.

“I borrowed luggage from my folks and I’m already packed. We just have to swing by your place on the way to the airport.”

Adrenaline coursed through Elle’s body as she took the fastest shower of her life. As she scrubbed down her skin, she avoided the little voice in her head questioning whether this was the best choice. After all, she still had her apartment and Troy had his and they each had roommates. The logistics were complicated and it overwhelmed her to think about it, so she pushed the thoughts from her mind, focusing instead on the romantic gesture Troy had made. If it was possible, she was falling even more in love with him with each passing minute, knowing the preparation he’d put into making this weekend romantic and special.

Elle couldn’t stop her knees from bobbing up and down as they sat in the limousine. Troy’s hand rested in her lap.

“You okay?”

Elle’s throat was dry as the limousine approached their hotel. Desperately, she attempted to quell the apprehension that mounted in her chest. Troy wrapped an arm around her and leaned in close.

“You seem nervous.”

“I’m just excited,” Elle lied. “It’s a big day, right?”

“The biggest.” Troy grinned from ear to ear as he peered out the window. Elle watched the man she loved, conflict overflowing within her. She loved him—there was no doubt about that. But, she couldn’t silence the voice in her head that screamed she was making a mistake. A big one.

When they arrived at the Bellagio Hotel, Elle and Troy checked in to their room. They’d discussed their plans. First, they would retrieve their marriage license, followed by a romantic dinner at Vic & Anthony’s Steakhouse. And finally, they would marry under the stars of Las Vegas. Troy had arranged for a gazebo ceremony at Mon Bel Ami Wedding Chapel at midnight. Elle was again blown away by his thoughtfulness. When he’d shown her the website for Mon Bel Ami, she knew it was completely her taste. Pictures of a rustic gazebo with hanging greenery and twinkling lights made her swoon.

The only thing missing was a dress.

Elle had packed several cocktail dresses, but none of them seemed proper to marry in. She wasn’t sure if there was time to purchase one, but she knew she wanted to feel like a bride. And no cocktail dress would help her feel that way.

“Is there time . . . to get a dress?” Elle asked when she emerged from the enormous bathroom in their suite. The fluffy robe was soft against her skin, and she snuggled up to Troy, who was sitting on the bed.

Troy grinned.

“You didn’t.”

“Check the closet.”

Elle opened the closet doors and gasped. Five different dresses, sheathed in clear garment bags, were hanging from the bar of the closet.

“They’re rentals. So unfortunately, you won’t be able to keep the one you choose.”

Tears brewed in her eyes as she stared at Troy, who’d joined her by the closet entrance. “I can’t believe it. You thought of everything, didn’t you?”

“I wanted it to be special.” He shrugged.

“It is. It so is.” Elle wrapped her arms around Troy, pulling him close. Then, she turned her attention back to the five garment bags. “Now, which one should I wear?”

She opened the first dress. An ivory, strapless lace gown with a black satin sash, elegant, modern and formfitting. She slipped herself into the exquisite frock. Troy zipped the dress and Elle walked to the full-length mirror on the bathroom door. She sighed, gazing at her reflection. She looked like a bride. A beautiful bride.

“It’s perfect.”

“There are four more. You don’t have to settle—” Troy had moved to the bar and was pouring himself a glass of Johnnie Walker Platinum, his favorite scotch. Elle had ordered it from the hotel to surprise him and she was happy to see him indulging in his favorite drink since he’d gone to such great lengths to make the weekend so special for her.

“I’m not settling. It’s elegant, timeless. I’m in love with it.” She spun gently to and fro, eyeing the dress from all angles. She loved the way it accentuated her curves and hugged her hips. It was as if the dress had been made specifically for her.

Troy truly knows me. He knows me so well.

“And,” she said, giddily, walking quickly to her suitcase, “I can even wear my favorite black heels.”

She slipped the shoes on her feet and walked back to the mirror, enveloped in the happiness surrounding her in that hotel room. Troy’s reflection could be seen with her own as he leaned down to kiss her exposed neck, her hair still up in a fluffy white towel.

“I’ll take my shower now, and we’ll begin our night, Mrs. Almost Saladino.”

Elle giggled. Troy polished off his glass of scotch and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Elle ignored the anxious flipping of her stomach at the mention of her future last name. Everyone had jitters just before tying the knot, and she was no different from any of the millions of brides before her who were overwhelmed by their nerves. She took a deep breath, carefully removed the dress, and began to groom herself for their evening.

Her hair was curled, tumbling in loose waves down her back. Her makeup was finally complete as she closed her cosmetics bag. Elle slipped off her cozy robe and stepped back into the lace gown. She emerged from the bathroom, feeling beautiful and excited. She lost her breath when she saw him.

Troy looked ridiculously handsome in his tuxedo, the color of midnight. He was fixing the collar of his crisp white shirt when their eyes locked.

“Wow,” Elle sighed. She walked to him, smoothing down the lapels of the suit. “You’re so dapper.”

“You’d better believe it, baby.” Troy winked. Then he took a small step back, holding Elle’s hands in his own, gazing at her from head to toe.

“You’re stunning. The most beautiful bride ever.”

“Thank you.” She blushed, pressing her lips together, feeling overwhelmed by the emotions in the room. They were doing this . . . really doing this. It wasn’t just a fantasy anymore. It was a reality. The anxious flip returned to her belly, and she pressed her hand into her abdomen, trying to calm herself.

“You okay?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she answered, swallowing hard. Troy narrowed his eyes; his hand grazed her cheek softly as he studied her, making her feel uneasy. She didn’t want him to know about her jitters. It was clear to Elle he had none to match hers. No, Troy wasn’t anxious—he was elated, enamored, and excited.

“Listen, Rigby, if you need more time—”

Again, Elle interrupted Troy’s offer of more time. She was dressed head to toe in wedding garb. The love of her life was standing before her in a tuxedo, looking as handsome as humanly possible.

She was getting married. She’d be absolutely insane to walk away.

“No. I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

Elle stood in her beautiful gown, her hands trembling as she studied her surroundings. Midnight was approaching, and the scorching heat of Las Vegas had cooled. A faint breeze blew against her clammy skin as she focused on her groom-to-be. Troy was standing beneath the gazebo, hands clasped in front of him, an expression of ease on his face. She wished she could will herself to be so confident, so at ease with this life-changing event. That voice had returned, telling her she was too young to get married, that their relationship wasn’t quite there yet, that she was swept up in the romance of it all. That she’d regret it and soon. But the idea of disappointing Troy, of ruining their picture-perfect romance, was more terrifying than going through with it. She loved him more than she thought she loved herself. And so, as a sign of her love, she took a leap, knowing she might take a terrible fall.

The small bouquet in her hands shook in response to her trembling fingers. Sweat formed on her neck as she walked down the white runner leading to the gazebo. “Here, There and Everywhere,” the Beatles’ song Troy always said reminded him of her, played as she joined him in front of the judge, a tall man with a kind face. She took a deep breath, looked him in the eye, and made a choice. She chose to marry the man she loved.

Their vows were simple. They would love, honor, and cherish for as long as they both should live. They were pronounced man and wife and they kissed under the stars.

“We did it, Rigby,” Troy murmured into her ear. Elle swallowed hard, wrapping her arms around his neck, seeking comfort and solace.

They returned to their suite, where they toasted with two sparkling glasses of champagne. The sweet intoxicating liquid helped ease Elle’s anxiety and she and Troy made love for hours. Troy fell asleep with his arms wrapped around Elle. But she couldn’t sleep. She simply stared at the wall, hoping for answers. Hoping for an epiphany. Hoping she did the right thing.

The next morning, Elle awoke before Troy, and a stiff pain formed in her chest. She slid out of his embrace and eased herself out of the warm bed. When she walked toward the bathroom, she saw it.

The dress. Her beautiful lace dress was draped across the chest at the foot of the bed. But instead of reminiscing in the blissful memories of the night before, she looked at the gorgeous garment with regret.

Regret and an overwhelming sense of panic. Sheer panic. That voice she’d suppressed before walking down the aisle was back. And it was dominating her psyche.

Her lungs felt as if they might collapse within her chest as she stroked the lace of the gown. She closed her eyes tight, withdrawing her hand from the fabric. Her eyes moistened as she dashed to the safety of the bathroom.

She locked the door behind her before grasping her hair with her hand. She lifted the seat of the toilet and waited for sickness to arrive. Her stomach was doing backflips over and over, so much so that nausea pervaded her body. She heaved again and again into the bowl, needing this horrible feeling to flee her. But it only grew worse with each passing minute. She clutched the ceramic bowl, hanging her head as sweat poured from her skin.

A knock at the door startled her. “Rigby, you okay?”

Troy sounded worried. No, more than worried. He sounded terrified.

“Just a minute,” she managed to squeak out. She wiped her slick forehead, attempting to calm herself down. But her stomach continued to tumble within her belly and sweat continued to bead on her forehead, neck, and arms.

“You’re scaring me, Rigby. Are you sick?”

“I don’t know. Just—I need a minute.”

“Okay. I’m here.”

With shaking arms and legs, Elle managed to climb to her feet and pull her robe to the floor. She crumpled herself on top of the fluffy robe, clutching the fabric in her fist. Tears streamed down her cheeks and landed on the soft terry.

It was a mistake. All of it.

She knew it in her gut. The self-saboteur in her was alive and well, and confident she wasn’t ready to be someone’s wife. She was lying on the bathroom floor, suffering from a panic attack because deep within her soul, she knew she was not capable of being joined to someone for the rest of her life. At least not yet. Not at the new age of twenty-five.

I’m too young. Too immature. Not ready. Not settled.

The thoughts swirled in her head, combined with an overwhelming amount of pure guilt.

On the other side of the door was a man who loved her. Who was ready, mature, settled. A man who would do just about anything for her. And she knew that, by day’s end, she would break his heart. That thought killed her, paralyzed her, and left her lying helpless on a bathrobe in the middle of their bathroom.

When her pulse returned to normal and the sweat had stopped forming on her brow, she was able to catch her breath.

You love him. You want this. You love him. Pull it together.

One hour after she first collapsed onto the bathroom floor, Elle emerged with combed hair, a clean face, and a relaxed demeanor. She was determined to see this through—to push her feelings of regret to the side and enjoy her birthday with Troy.

You love him. He can’t see you this way. You’ll break his heart.

Troy was sitting on the edge of the bed in a white cotton t-shirt and boxer shorts. His elbows dug into his thighs and his hands joined together, his knuckles squeezed tightly, making his skin turn a ghastly shade of white. He jumped to his feet as she left the sanctuary of the bathroom.

“Baby, what’s going on?”

“My stomach,” she lied. “I think it was the champagne. I’m okay now.”

She placed a kiss on his cheek, her hands tucked into the robe, still trembling. He smoothed her hair down, pressing his lips to hers.

“You had me so worried.”

“I’m fine, I promise.”

“I, uh, I’m guessing you’re not hungry?” His eyes were cautious, his shoulders stiff.

“I could eat,” she said with a shrug. Another lie. She wanted nothing to do with food, but was determined to function normally. They had two days left in Las Vegas before leaving Tuesday morning. She had two days to adjust to her new status as a married woman. Two days to push the nagging anguish from her mind and body.

She managed to keep up the facade for one full day. Until it all came tumbling down the following morning. Once again, she found herself crumpled in a ball on the bathroom floor, clutching her abdomen. Only this time, she had forgotten to lock the door behind her.

Troy barreled into the bathroom after his first knock went unanswered. Elle jumped to her knees as he crashed into the room. His face was red, his eyes wide.

“Enough is enough. What the hell is going on with you? Are you sick? You have to tell me.”

The guilt Elle had felt for the past twenty-four hours multiplied in that brief moment. Knowing Troy, he was probably terrified she had some terminal illness or secret disease she’d managed to hide. If only it was something so innocent, so benign. If that were her reality, he would still love her at the end of the conversation. But she knew, despite her every desire to remain with him as an unmarried couple, that Troy was an all-or-nothing man. He’d given her opportunities to say no, to ask for more time, and she hadn’t taken them.

He’d never forgive her for this.

“I . . . I’m just thinking. I can’t stop thinking.”

Troy’s look of concern changed in an instant. It was now a look of suspicion.

“About what?”

Elle’s forehead wrinkled as she held back tears. Her nose scrunched and her lips pursed tightly together. She had no idea what to say.

“About what, Eleanor?”

Eleanor. He never called her Eleanor. Panic rose once again in her chest.

She closed her eyes tight and answered. “Us. About us.”

“I don’t understand. I thought—” He paused, his mouth agape, his hands on his hips. “I thought you wanted this. I thought we were happy, that you were happy.”

“I was.”

“Was? Then what the hell changed?”

“Please don’t yell at me.” Elle walked past him, heading for the bedroom. She needed more air, needed to breathe.

“Don’t walk away from this!” Troy followed behind her. “Eleanor!”

“I—I’m sorry. You told me I could have more time. I should have taken it. I should have thought things through. But you were so . . . so . . .”

“I didn’t pressure you,” he said, his voice low, his features sunken, defeated.

“I know that.” Elle wrapped her arms around her abdomen, clutching hard, attempting to comfort herself.

“I thought you wanted me, wanted this. I can’t believe how stupid I am.” Troy walked to the corner, pressing his fists against the wall, his head lowered.

“I do want you.”

“Stop it. Stop it right now.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Anything.”

“How can you possibly do that? The thought of being my wife is making you sick—physically sick. Do you know how humiliating that is?” Troy’s scarlet cheeks deepened as rage consumed his features. Elle dug her fingernails into her skin as she watched his anger grow.

“I didn’t know . . . I didn’t know I’d feel this way. I was trying! Trying to pull it together . . . for you.”

“For me? How considerate of you.”

Elle walked to Troy, placing her hand on the side of his face. He flinched at her touch. “I mean it. I love you, Troy. I do.”

He averted his eyes, avoiding hers. “Love doesn’t feel like this.”

“I’m sorry. So very sorry.”

“We took vows, Eleanor. And now, what? They’re over? They meant nothing? I meant every word. Every fucking word.”

Tears streamed down Elle’s cheeks. She knew what she wanted was repressible, but she was hanging on by a thread, unsure of how long she could continue a charade with such life-changing consequences. She wanted to convince Troy they could still be happy together, despite their current spiral. Despite the way he looked at her, as if she were a stranger.

“We can fix this and still be together.”

“And how would we do that?” Troy scoffed.

“An annulment. We could get one, and just—just go back to the way things were. To being Troy and Rigby, a happy couple who live in separate apartments but spend every weekend together. Who take walks in Grant Park and order moo shoo pork from China Garden—”

“An annulment? Are you serious?”

Elle nodded, knowing that dissolving the marriage was the only way she could survive.

I’m too young. Too immature. Not ready. Not settled.

“I can’t believe this. I can’t fucking believe—I gave you so many chances to say no, to say you weren’t ready, that you needed more time. But you didn’t take them. You let me look like a goddamn fool!”

Elle sat on the bed, taking in his wrath, hoping he’d eventually calm down. That they’d be able to speak calmly to one another. She watched as Troy returned to the edge of the bed, his elbows once again digging into his thighs. His head hanging in despair.

“I’m so sorry.” Her cheeks were covered in tears; her voice cracked in anguish. She was hanging on for dear life, terrified of losing Troy forever. She joined him on the bed, running her fingers through his hair as her other arm wrapped around his torso. “This is my fault, all my fault. But please, please don’t give up on me, Troy. Please. I need you.”

“I don’t know what to say,” he whispered, his voice guarded, lifeless. “Why can’t you just . . . try? You know, give it a few days—see if your cold feet go away?”

Elle swallowed hard. She knew this was Troy’s final act of forgiveness—the only opportunity he would give her to save the relationship. But she couldn’t do it. She’d drown if she did. And she’d resent him for the rest of her life.

“No. I can’t be married, Troy. I’m sorry. This was . . . it was a mistake.”

And for the first time in the many years she’d known Troy Saladino, she watched as he cried. She watched as his eyes grew misty. And she watched as tears streamed down his blood-red cheeks. His hand clutched his forehead as he sobbed. Elle wrapped her arms around him, clutching him tight, and wishing they could go back to the morning in his apartment when everything was sunshine and roses. When their relationship was euphoric and heavenly. Instead, she clung to the man whose heart she’d destroyed. Her fingertips dug into his skin as her sobs matched his.

Elle awoke, alone on the bed.

Troy was gone.

She searched the closets, the bathroom, the drawers.

His bags, his clothes, everything was gone.

He’d left her.

Her heart thumped wildly in her chest as she pinned her hair up, wrapped herself in a fluffy white robe, and grabbed her key card. With reckless abandon, she ran to the elevator, pressing the button again and again. “C’mon, dammit. C’mon.”

Finally, the elevator arrived. A young couple stood, mouths agape at her disheveled appearance as Elle entered the car, pressing the “L” button, despite the fact that it was already glowing. Her pulse raced as she pondered what to ask the front desk. Somehow no question would hide her mortification. When the elevator reached the lobby, Elle sprinted to the expansive front desk. A woman with short, white hair and wide eyes waved Elle to her station. Her name badge said “Geraldine.”

“Young lady, are you all right? Do you need an ambulance?”

Elle looked down at her disheveled appearance, realizing that a bathrobe and bare feet was not the appropriate dress for the Bellagio Hotel lobby.

“No, I . . .” she began, taking in the onlookers around her. “My boyf—I mean, my husband seems to have left. I need to know if he checked out.”

The crease above Geraldine’s nose deepened as she listened to Elle’s request. “Room number, dear?”

“307,” Elle answered. “The reservation should be under Saladino.”

“Oh, yes.” Geraldine studied the screen and sighed. “He checked out about an hour ago. The room is paid through Tuesday. So, you’re free to stay until then, dear.”

“He’s gone?” Her voice cracked as tears formed in her already sore, red eyes. Her lungs tightened and her hands trembled.

This can’t be happening, she thought, her mind racing. How could he leave me like this?

“Did he get another room?”

“I can check, just one moment.” Geraldine tapped at her keyboard, scrunched her nose, and shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not. We have only one reservation under that name, and it’s for the room you’re staying in.”

“Right,” Elle muttered, her fingers tapping the desk at a frantic pace. “Thank you for your help.”

Mortified and forlorn, Elle pulled her robe tight to her chest and walked past the elevators to the stairwell. Slowly, she made her way up the stairs, her mind blank and defeated. When she reached her room, she stripped herself down and entered the shower, turning the water as hot as she could handle. She stood in the scorching hot stream and sobbed, her hands pressed against the glass of the shower. She knew he wouldn’t return. She knew it was over.

Her skin was red and splotchy when she emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. Her sopping wet hair dripped down her back as she curled up in a ball on the bed. When she grew cold, she spotted his bathrobe draped over a chair. She wrapped the soft terry cloth around her shaky body and inhaled the residue of his cologne. She sobbed while watching the door, hoping he’d walk through it, until finally she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning, alone and defeated, Elle boarded the plane to Chicago, staring at the empty seat for the duration of the flight. Her eyes were bone dry, unable to cry anymore.

When she arrived at O’Hare Airport, she climbed into a cab, directing the driver to Troy’s apartment. She had to see him.

She climbed the stairs of his building, leaned her luggage against the wall, and knocked on the door. She held her breath as the sound of footsteps approaching grew louder. She could see his feet through the crack of light at the bottom of the door. Just as she pondered what to say, those feet moved out of sight, and once again Elle could hear footsteps.

He was walking away.

Elle pounded on the door. “Troy! Troy, please open the door.”

Silence.

Tears sprang from her eyes as she pounded relentlessly against the harsh wood, but no one answered. Embarrassed and exhausted, Elle slid to sit on the floor, her head tapping against the wood.

“Troy, I’m sorry. Please don’t do this.”

After an hour of sitting in Troy’s dirty hallway, Elle pulled herself to her feet and gripped her luggage, dragging it down the stairs and into a cab.

Later that week, Elle arrived home after an exhausting day at work to find an unmarked envelope lying in the entryway.

A certificate of annulment signed by Troy.

It was over. She got what she thought she wanted.

But all she wanted was to go back. To go back to the woman who lay in a heap on the bathroom floor. She’d tell that woman to snap out of it, to embrace her new life with her new husband. To embrace the possibilities of their life as a married couple. She’d tell that miserable, terrified girl to grow up, to appreciate what she had before it was gone.

But she couldn’t go back.

And now, just like Troy’s, her heart was ripped to shreds. And she’d never be the same.