“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.”
“Whatever you’re doing, it’s perfection.” Elle took another large bite, closing her eyes as she relished the rustic Italian flavors of the pizza. “Does your mom ever visit? She must miss you.”
“She lives in Long Beach, actually. I convinced her to buy this tiny cottage right on the water. Payton loves going to Nana’s place.”
“Nice.” She hesitated to say her next statement, but blurted it out before her type A personality could reel it back in. “I’d love to meet her.”
Troy’s mouth opened, and his eyes met hers. For a sliver of a moment, Elle thought he looked hopeful, softer, and slightly vulnerable. Yes, their discussion was mostly surface—catching up with one another, glossing over the gritty details and covering the need-to-know basics. But Elle was genuinely interested in meeting his daughter. She surprised even herself with that realization. And if she wanted to meet Payton, that meant their story wasn’t quite over, despite what the scripts in her desk drawer might say.
“I’m sure she’d love you,” Troy said with a soft smile, tilting his head to the side. Elle’s heart did a double take and the butterflies spread their wings. And they fluttered. It was a hopeful flutter. Her inner cynic wanted to scream her head off, shaming Elle for allowing the turn of this conversation to transpire. Troy deserved her resentment, her inner conflict, and her regrets. He didn’t deserve her hope.
“Why are you here?” Her voice cracked with the words.
Troy wrinkled his nose and pursed his lips. “I told you, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“Ten years, Troy. Ten ridiculously long years.”
Silence swept over the room. Troy’s nostrils flared as he gritted his teeth.
“You and I both know there was a damn good reason why I left.”
There it was, the punch to the gut Elle was waiting for. She wondered if they’d ever be able to stand in a room together without him throwing her mistakes in her face. They sat in silence for several minutes, playing an awkward game of chicken. Troy was the first to jump.
“Listen, I’ve kept you long enough,” Troy said. “And the lunch crowd should be starting soon.”
Elle stood, reaching for the top of the pizza box. Troy’s hand stopped her. “No, you keep that. Share it with . . . well, share it with whoever you want.”
Elle walked Troy to the door. When he reached to pull her into a hug, she found herself relaxing into his embrace, breathing in the scent of him. Troy smelled like spearmint and fresh soap. And as she inhaled, years of memories surged through her brain. Some blissful, some unbearable. But many worth hanging on to. At least, she hoped they were.
Elle gritted her teeth, realizing she’d ju
st given Troy Saladino her hope.
Dammit.
That’s a wrap, people.”
The bells sounded. Cast and crew members scattered from the soundstage. Elle sighed, knowing another episode was ready for editing and the final stages of production. Coincidentally, Luke’s first episode, shot a few weeks prior, would air that evening. He’d officially be tabloid fodder, which was unsettling to Elle. She wasn’t quite ready to share him with the American public.
From the corner of her eye she saw Luke and Gina huddled together. Surprised, she turned to give them her full attention. Gina was pressing her cheek to Luke’s, her right arm outstretched, holding her phone until it flashed. Elle focused on the satisfied smile across Luke’s face. And despite the irritation she felt toward Gina, she was genuinely happy for Luke. In just a few hours, America would be introduced to him. He’d made it. His career was on the rise and, professionally speaking, it was a gigantic milestone for the actor. Elle chose to focus on that, rather than the actress standing beside him.
Gina had been quite the diva since the altercation between her and Nolan during the table read. Elle knowing about their problems did nothing for her attitude, either. And frankly, Elle was tired of her entitled behavior. Yes, she was the star of the show, but she should respect those who wrote the lines she delivered.
Elle shrugged off her frustration, knowing the migraine taking up residence behind her eyes was probably the culprit. She needed to go home, turn off all the lights, slather peppermint oil on her forehead and temples, and call it a night. She reached for her bag, but a familiar hand grabbed it first, handing it to her.
Luke.
“The rest of the cast is going out for drinks. You up for it?”
Elle shook her head. “I have a killer headache. I need to go home.”
“Do you care if I go?” Luke tilted his head, both eyebrows raised, and his cerulean eyes gleaming beneath the stage lights.
“Not at all. I’m going to bed as soon as I get home. My head’s killing me.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll see you tomorrow. Table read at ten, right?”
Elle rubbed her thumb and forefinger against her forehead, attempting to remember her schedule. “Yeah, that sounds right.”
“Do you need me to drive you? You don’t look so good. Sorta pale.” Luke placed his hand at the base of her chin as he inspected her face. Elle sloughed him off. Their relationship was still under wraps and she didn’t need prying eyes attempting to dissect it.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“It’s okay. And no, I can drive myself. Thank you, though.” Elle pulled the corners of her mouth up in a weak smile. “Go, have fun. Watch yourself on screen.”
“That’s the plan.” Luke winked at Elle as he walked away, joining Gina and the other cast members near the door of the soundstage.
“You won’t be able to keep it a secret much longer.”
Rob was standing by the craft services table, his arms crossed in front of his chest. Elle avoided the judgment she knew was lingering behind his gaze.
“I know.”
She didn’t have the energy to debate her relationship status right now, especially with the director. She gathered the rest of her things and made her way out of the studio, away from the stress and pressure of Follow the Sun.
The aroma of peppermint inundated Elle’s bedroom. Her temples tingled as the oil permeated her pores, relieving the pain of her migraine. Despite her desire to fall asleep and wake up completely healed, her brain refused to wind down. Thoughts of Luke and Troy besieged her aching head.
Elle’s mind drifted to the day, eleven years ago, when she and Troy had decided to be a couple—to finally give themselves a chance at a romantic relationship rather than a friendship riddled with sexual chemistry and tension.
Troy was twenty-four years old, and Elle was about to turn twenty-four as well. Elle was working as a journalist for the Chicago Tribune. Well, officially she was a journalist, but unofficially she worked in the classifieds department. She was a glorified data entry specialist, but she came to work each day, paying her dues in the hopes of being promoted within the company. She hoped to one day receive an actual assignment for an actual article that would be printed in the newspaper. In her spare time, she was crafting short stories. Ironically, the classifieds she read each day were useful for small bits of information. When someone expects four-hundred-and-fifty dollars for a ten-year-old birdcage, it can get the creative juices flowing.
Troy was working as an accountant for Wolf & Company and seemed to be passionate about helping companies grow and develop. He was always good with numbers, so organized and determined. That was something he and Elle had in common. He worked at least fifty hours per week, and at the end of the day he and Elle would meet for a drink at one of the bars in Wrigleyville. Elle had three roommates, as did Troy. Chicago real estate was tough business, and sharing was inevitable, no matter how well an entry-level position paid.
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 f
eelings 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.
Red Carpet Kiss Page 10