“Yep. Haven’t kicked my sugar habit.”
Elle placed the can in front of Troy.
“And I see you haven’t kicked your poison habit either.” Troy always insisted Elle’s addiction to diet soda was her unhealthiest habit. He was vehemently against all artificial sweeteners, referring to them as poison to the body.
“Yep, still addicted.”
“I guess we haven’t changed all that much, have we?”
Elle paused before popping the top of her can. Her eyes bored into Troy’s. “That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?”
Troy’s lips pressed into a thin line and he nodded. The tension in the air was thicker than the deep-dish pizza he sliced open with the knife. He served Elle first, then himself before closing the box and pushing it to the side. The room was still as Elle and Troy stared at one another. They’d already spent entirely too much time dancing around the topic at hand. The elephant in the room was wearing a cowboy hat and a feather boa—it demanded to be seen, discussed, felt.
She stabbed her pizza with her fork, which stood straight up in the layers of cheese, sauce, and toppings. “So I hope you’ll forgive me, but I’m terrible at small talk. I need to know why you’re here.”
“I was hoping we’d cut to the chase. I’m here because I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Oh.” A lump formed in Elle’s throat as heat grew in her cheeks. She never thought she’d hear those words from Troy Saladino. But she liked them. She liked them a lot.
“The thing is, I gave up hope a long time ago. I never thought I’d see you again.”
Elle crossed her arms in front of her chest, tilting her head. “And whose fault is that?”
Troy flinched. “I probably deserve that.”
“Probably?”
Troy closed his eyes, shook his head, and continued. “We’re in the same city. I had to see you.”
“You left, and then you shut me out. I tried . . . so many times, I tried.”
Troy closed his eyes and grimaced. If he thought she wouldn’t bring that up, he was sorely mistaken. The years could soften some things, but his sudden departure from her life was not one of them.
“I know,” he said.
“I know nothing about your life. Are you married? Divorced? Do you have kids?”
“Yes.”
“Yes?” Her heartbeat kicked up a notch as she attempted to appear calm and collected. “To which question?”
“I have a daughter. She’s the reason I live out here.”
Troy was a father? Elle’s stomach tied itself into knots. She hadn’t expected that.
“And your wife?”
“I’m not married.”
“Divorced, then?”
“No. I’ve only been married once.”
Troy’s eyebrows dipped as he peered into Elle’s eyes. His face softened, and without meaning to, she mirrored his expression immediately. Even after ten years, their connection was as strong as ever.
“What’s your daughter’s name?”
“Payton.”
Elle tilted her head. “You didn’t.”
Troy was obsessed with the Chicago Bears, as most Chicagoans were. He was especially enamored of Walter Payton, one of the most prolific running backs in the NFL. Elle would never forget Troy’s drunken rendition of the Super Bowl Shuffle, especially when he’d place the sweatband around his head and proclaim himself Walter.
Troy threw his head back in laughter, then held his hands up in surrender.
“Her mother named her, I swear. But of course I didn’t object.”
“Well, it’s a beautiful name. How old is she?”
“She’ll be nine on Christmas Day.”
Elle swallowed hard, and an ache developed in her gut. Nine? His daughter was going to be nine years old, which meant that as Elle spent months attempting to get over him and his disappearance from her world, Troy wasted no time in moving on. She could feel the blood draining from her cheeks.
“Nine?”
“Rigby, I—”
“Nine?” Her eyes widened as she glared at Troy, who looked up at the ceiling, guilt spreading across his face.
“I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not like that. It was a rebound, and her mother and I are still friends.”
Elle shifted in her seat, but said nothing. Troy cleared his throat before filling the awkward silence that lingered between them.
“It works for us and I get to be in my daughter’s life, which is all I want. She’s my whole world.”
“I see.” Elle pushed the rejection she was feeling down below the surface and resolved to focus on the facts. She wanted more information; she wanted to know everything she could. Troy was a puzzle and she was determined to make the pieces come together, even if they would never quite fit.
“You said she’s the reason you’re here . . .”
“Yeah. Her mom moved here seven years ago. She married a guy in the recording industry and I couldn’t be across the country from my kid. So I followed them here.”
“Well, now I know why we never ran into each other when I was still in Chicago.”
Troy nodded. “Yeah.”
“But a restaurant? When we—I mean, you were an accountant—”
“I know.” Troy stood and paced Elle’s office. “I was. Even out here, I was. I worked at a talent agency for a long time. But when my dad got sick, things changed. I changed.”
“I’m sorry about your dad. I had no idea. I would have been there.” The guilt Elle felt for missing Tony Saladino’s services was palpable. He’d always been good to her, even when things between her and his son were rocky.
“I know.”
“What changed?”
“I was miserable, ya know? I went to work every day, crunching numbers, meeting with clients, and I hated it. I went back to Chicago to help out whenever I could. I’d take long weekends and take my dad to chemo. We’d sit and talk and he knew—he knew I was miserable. He told me life was short. And for the first time, I believed him.”
“The restaurant’s great,” Elle said. “It felt like home, like being back in Chicago.”
“I’m glad you think so. Aside from Payton, it’s my pride and joy.”
“You found your dream.”
“And you obviously found yours.” Troy gestured to the frames on the walls. “Seriously, Rigby, this is the big time. Your show is all the buzz, you have an Emmy nomination.”
“I didn’t win.”
“Still. You’re living the dream.”
“Yeah.” She paused, allowing her eyes to wander around her office in appreciation of the career she’d built. “I guess I am.”
“How did this happen?” He gestured to their surroundings.
“Well, years ago I wrote a book. And then another . . . and another. They were picked up by a publisher and just over five years ago, I got this call. It was the head of the studio wanting a meeting.”
“That must’ve been wild.”
“It was. Wild and scary and just . . . crazy. They made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, and before I knew it I was packing up my car and moving here. I rented for a while and then bought my place. It’s not quite home yet, but it’s getting there.”
“Wow.” Troy licked his lips and ran his fingers through his hair. “Would it be weird if I said I was proud of you?”
Elle smirked, appreciating Troy’s honesty given the awkward situation they found themselves in. “A little bit, but thanks. Hey, let’s eat before this delicious pizza gets cold.”
“You’re right. Dig in.” Troy returned to his seat and dug into his pizza as Elle did the same. They ate, mostly in comfortable silence. Elle oohed and ahhed over the delicious pie.
“This was your dad’s recipe, wasn’t it?”
Troy nodded, wiping his mouth with a napkin and taking a sip of his Coke. “Mostly. I’ve been experimenting with the spice palette.”