One summer evening, the night before her birthday, they were enjoying a couple of drinks at John Barleycorn, a local bar filled with sports fans and local twentysomethings alike. The Cubs were playing on the big screen. Troy and Elle nibbled on sliders as they drank their beer. Elle had just ended a relationship with one of Troy’s roommates.
Ethan was all wrong for her. In many ways, she regretted that relationship the moment it began. They’d hooked up after a party at Troy’s place. Ethan said all the right things and seduced Elle with compliments. And as she had in the past, even though she wasn’t quite aware of it, Elle sought Troy’s attention in all the wrong ways. She’d spent years regretting her behavior at the campsite, knowing Troy was all-in. He wanted her, and not just for a measly hookup in a tent. He wanted a relationship with her. Which is what she thought she wanted, too.
After five years, however, she and Troy were still just friends. Close ones, yes, but friends just the same, and Elle was getting restless. So she and Ethan dated casually for six weeks. She’d ended it over a cup of coffee that morning. Ethan was, as predicted, not the least bit upset. Neither of them had gone into it with any sort of grand expectation. But he’d said something that morning. Something Elle couldn’t get off her mind. And after three beers, she was finally ready to talk about it.
“Ethan said something this morning.” She placed her beer on the coaster, wiping the back of her mouth with her hand.
Troy sighed. “I thought you were fine. Why are you bringing him up again, Rigby? He’s a douche.”
“He’s your friend.”
“Yeah, but he’s a douche. He doesn’t deserve you.” Troy’s eyebrows pulled in tight and a little crease formed above his nose.
“You’re cute when you do that,” she slurred.
“Okay, you’re cut off.”
Elle slid from her barstool and stood next to Troy. “I’m serious. I love that you look out for me.”
Troy’s expression softened. “I always will, you know that.”
“I do.” She looked down; her ballet flats were sticking to the beer on the floor. “But he said something . . . and I want to know what you think about it.”
“Okay, fine. Hit me.” Troy took another swig of his beer, placing it back on the coaster before him, before turning to Elle, giving her his full attention.
“Ethan thinks . . .” She was losing her nerve. Without thinking, she grabbed her beer and chugged. She downed the amber liquid until her pint glass was empty but for a few lone suds at the bottom.
“Whoa, must be serious.”
“He thinks I’m in love with you,” she blurted out, swallowing hard as she stared at Troy. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped slightly. He stared at her lips, then looked to her nose, her cheeks, her eyes.
“And?”
Despite the look of surprise, Elle could also see his muscles tighten, as if he was bracing himself for disappointment. And she knew, she knew she’d been playing games with him for far too long. It was time to grow up—to face her feelings for him, to give herself a real chance at happiness with Troy Saladino.
“And I think he’s right.”
Troy nodded, swallowed hard, and lifted his glass to his lips, draining the beer just as Elle had done. He then turned his body and flagged down the bartender, tapping his glass to ask for a refill on his beer. Still, he said nothing as he angled himself back toward Elle. Tears formed in her eyes as she wondered if she was too late. If Troy had given up on her long ago, outside of that tent.
“And tomorrow?” Troy asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, tomorrow, when your buzz is gone, what will your answer be? No more games, Rigby, I’m serious.” His pupils widened as he glared at her.
Elle placed her fingers in Troy’s short hair, running them through slowly as she gazed into his pained eyes. She knew that, yes, the beer had given her liquid courage. But she’d felt this way for years; she just hadn’t been ready to face it.
“It’s been years, Troy. Years. Tomorrow will be just another day on the calendar. Another day I’ve loved you. Buzz, no buzz. It doesn’t matter. It’s the truth and I’m finally ready for you to hear it.” She grabbed her empty glass. “I just needed this to give me the guts.”
Troy took her hand in his and she looked down at his fingertips stroking her skin. When she raised her attention back to his face, she couldn’t read his expression. Relief? Love? Confusion?
“And you? How do you feel?”
Troy squeezed her hand. “You know how I feel.”
“Show me.” Elle tilted her chin up, challenging him to kiss her. Troy abandoned his barstool and stood, placing his hand behind her neck and pulling her in for a kiss. She smiled as their lips made contact and immediately Troy deepened the kiss, stroking her tongue with his. For just a moment, they were nothing but lips, tongues, and roaming hands, until Troy pulled back, breathing heavily and pressing his forehead to hers.
“Wanna get outta here?”
“Yes.”
They’d walked arm in arm back to Troy’s apartment, his hand resting protectively over hers as they made their way down the block.
They made love for the second time. And the next morning, Elle didn’t run. She stayed, and for three hundred and sixty-four days, they were completely smitten. Until they went to Vegas. And everything fell apart.
Tears streamed down Elle’s face as she lay in silence in her bedroom. Linus snuggled into her side, attempting to comfort her. But nothing could. Troy was the most significant regret of her life. She cried for their mistakes, for their separation, and for the time they’d lost. But mostly, she cried for the contented moments like the one they spent walking from John Barleycorn’s to Troy’s apartment. The night she was given a fresh start with the only guy who’d ever captured her heart. She cried for the hope that took up residence in her heart that evening, and for the hope that still remained after so much time.
Elle crashed into Luke’s dressing room with a ferocity she hadn’t expected. Justine, the makeup artist, looked up from her canvas with a start, still clutching her bottle of concealer. Her eyes were wide and she stepped back from Luke, who turned his body to face Elle. It was seven fifteen in the morning, with less than an hour before he was needed on set. But for Elle, this couldn’t wait. Not even a moment longer.
“Elle, what the hell is going on?”
Elle’s nostrils flared as she stalked toward Luke. Her eyes never left his, even as she addressed the makeup artist. “Justine, will you excuse us, please?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll be back in five minutes.” Justine placed her concealer and sponges on Luke’s dressing table and scurried from the room, closing the door softly behind her.
Luke stood, tearing the paper bib from his collar. “What’s going on?”
“This.” Elle shoved her iPad into Luke’s hands.
“Perez Hilton? Who is that?”
“Gossip site, like TMZ. Explain the pictures, Luke.”
Luke’s eyes closed and his head tilted up toward the ceiling. “It was late, we’d had a few drinks. It was nothing.”
Elle scrolled through her iPad, revealing a dozen shots of Luke with Gina at a local bar. Luke’s arm was wrapped around her waist, his nose nuzzled into her ear. To Elle, they appeared awfully friendly. Too friendly.
“Listen, I know we aren’t exclusive. That’s not what this is about.”
Luke crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Then what’s it about?”