“No,” he answered, his voice impassive. “No, it’s not terrible. But I don’t think you can absolve yourself like that.”
“Absolve myself?” Elle said, her voice rising. She stood, grabbed her sweater from the floor and returned it to her body. She paced the room as she struggled to find the right retort. But her mind was blank. “I’m not trying to absolve myself of anything!”
Troy pushed his palms into his knees, rising to his feet to stand opposite Elle. “I didn’t mean it like that. God, I just—” He looked up at the ceiling, running his fingers through his hair. “How did we get here, Rigby? How did we go from that chapel in Vegas to this? I can’t wrap my mind around it. Still . . . after all this time.”
“I ask myself that same question every single day.” She pressed her eyes tight. “The answer is . . . I have no idea.”
Troy pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her as she pressed her forehead to his chest.
“I’m not ready to give up,” Troy said, his voice gravelly and deep. Elle knew he was holding back tears. “Not yet.”
“Good.” She wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I’m not either.”
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe it is fate.”
“Don’t patronize me,” Elle said.
“I mean it. Neither of us had any intention of letting our guard down, of taking that leap. Maybe fate had to intervene, to bring us together again.”
“Maybe.”
They stood for several minutes, locked in a comforting embrace. Just as Elle was about to excuse herself, call it a night, and escape the confusion of his apartment, a familiar song came through the small iPod speaker.
“Here, There and Everywhere.”
The song that always reminded Troy of her. The song to which she’d walked down the aisle. Her eyes locked with his.
“You still listen to this song? I thought you’d have banished it from your playlists a long time ago.”
Troy brushed her bangs from her eyes. “Never.”
A weak smile of relief crossed her lips. Troy cupped her face with his hands and kissed her. It was a gentle, soft kiss, but one filled with the depths of emotion they were both feeling. Without realizing it, they began to dance to the music. Their feet took small steps back and forth on the carpeting below, their hips swaying ever so slightly to the song. As confused as Elle was in Troy’s arms, she was eager to know what fate had in store for them.
While they danced, Troy’s phone rang. Instinctively, Elle pulled away, allowing him to answer it. Instead, Troy pulled her closer. “Let the machine get it.”
Elle eased herself back into Troy’s embrace, until a familiar voice came through.
“Hey, Troy, it’s Amanda. Listen, I have a doctor’s appointment on Wednesday afternoon, so I need to bring Payton a little early. Let me know if I should bring her to the restaurant or to your place.”
Elle’s jaw dropped and her hands stiffened around Troy’s forearms. She couldn’t believe her ears. Her mind was racing. No, Payton’s mother couldn’t possibly be . . .
“Amanda?” Her name was like venom on her lips.
“Rigby, I—”
“Amanda Bauer? From college? Are you kidding me right now?”
Troy pursed his lips and nodded. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, it’s just—”
“You knew I’d be pissed.”
“Yeah.” Troy rubbed his neck and shrugged.
Elle paced the length of Troy’s living room. Her muscles tightened and her hands balled into tight fists. “So, after Vegas, you went back to her? Again?”
“I told you, it was a rebound. It meant nothing.”
Elle returned to the couch, pressing her forehead into her hands. Sweat grew on her forehead, her arms, her neck, and the room began to spin. “I can’t believe this.”
“It’s not a big deal, seriously.” Troy’s tone changed to defensive, which stirred Elle’s anger even more.
“Not a big deal? Are you kidding me? Every time I screwed up, you went back to her, Troy. You did it to hurt me, didn’t you? Just like in college!”
Troy threw his arms up in the air, glaring at Elle. “So?”
“So, while I was writing you love letters and begging you to take me back, she was with you, sleeping with you, easing your pain?”
Troy stood in the middle of the room, hands on his hips. His jaw was clenched as he broke eye contact.
“The feet behind the door—how do I know they weren’t hers?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I came to your door so many times . . . and every single time, someone would look through the peephole and walk away. Did Amanda see me through the peephole?”
“I don’t remember, Rigby, it was a long time ago.” The guilt on Troy’s face betrayed him. Even if those feet never belonged to Amanda, the possibility was clear. While her heart was consumed with guilt, Troy was sleeping with Amanda. The thought made bile rise in Elle’s throat.
“I think I’m gonna be sick.” She jumped to her feet and ran to Troy’s bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She held her hair with one hand and lifted the toilet seat with the other, hovering over the commode until her nausea settled and her nerves calmed.
Knock, knock, knock.
A chill ran down Elle’s spine as the entire scenario took her right back to Las Vegas. Her, emotional and sick in the bathroom, with Troy knocking on the other side. Only this time, she wasn’t worried about Troy’s state of mind. It was time for self-preservation.
“Rigby, please . . . I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I’m sorry you found out this way, but I’m never going to regret my daughter. She’s my world—my entire world.”
Elle’s heart sank. She didn’t want Troy to regret becoming a father, but the pain he caused her by rebounding with the one person he knew would upset her was like a nail through her already wounded heart. She climbed to her feet, splashed cold water on her face, and opened the bathroom door.
Troy leaned against the door frame, his brow furrowed in frustration.
“You’re linked to her forever, Troy. No matter what happens with us, Amanda will always be in your life. When Payton graduates high school and college, when she gets married, has kids—you’ll always be linked to her. Forever and always.”
Troy sighed, leaning closer to Elle, his feet crossing the threshold of the bathroom. “Yes, that’s true. But we’re friends, Rigby, nothing more. I need you to believe me.”
Elle wanted to brush it off, to believe that, outside of Payton, Amanda would have no role in their possible future together, but she couldn’t do it.
“Please tell me you can get past this, Rigby, please.”
“I don’t know.”
It was the truth. Yes, she’d hurt Troy deeply and hadn’t forgiven herself for the mistakes she’d made. But, they were just that: mistakes. The pain that Troy caused her was deliberate. He fought dirty, and having a child with Amanda was one way to continue Elle’s pain for years to come.
“I’ll try,” she said. “I promise I’ll try.”
Elle wondered if she and Troy would ever be able to stop making things more difficult for themselves. For each other. Would they ever be able to simply be happy together? Was it even possible?
This place is gorgeous, Luke.”
Elle ran her fingers across the granite countertops of the rental house Luke was considering in the Pacific Palisades. He asked her to visit the house with him on their lunch hour. The Pacific Palisades, a district on the west side of Los Angeles, was notorious for two things: being right on the ocean and being the chosen neighborhood for several Hollywood A-listers. He would be close to work, a short drive from Elle’s place, and he would be on the water, but he would also be surrounded by big names. She could only hope he was more interested in the beautiful view than the hope of rubbing shoulders with big-name directors, actors, and actresses.
The ocean view caught Elle’s eye and she quickly walked outside to the wooden deck, taking i
n the sea breeze. Luke followed, wrapping his arms around her, linking them across her midriff. All that stood between them and the ocean was a flight of stairs and a hundred yards of sandy beach. The waves crashed against the shore as they took in the majestic view.
“What do you think? Do you love it?”
“It’s . . .” Elle turned to face Luke. “It’s wonderful.”
“The house is okay, nothing too impressive, a little small. But you can’t beat this view. Look, there’s even a hammock over here.” He gestured to a cozy-looking hammock in the corner of the deck before nuzzling his nose into her neck. “You. Me. Naps in the sunshine with the sound of the waves crashing in the background. I should sign the rental agreement this second.”
That thought delighted Elle. It was serene, calm, and sexy—every word she could use to describe Luke himself. When she was with him, life was fresh, new, and filled with possibilities. His calm demeanor and relaxed approach to life was contagious—she’d spent so many years entrenched in anxiety. Yes, it had led to success in her life, success she wouldn’t trade for the world. But Luke was successful in his own right, and he wasn’t bogged down with worry the way she was. Or the way Troy was, for that matter.
“Seriously, though, are you going to take it?”
“I have to see the rest of the place, but yeah, I think so. It’s a year lease, which is perfect. It’ll carry me into next season, and then I can figure out what to do next. Gotta wait to see if my contract is extended.”
Elle placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. “I don’t think you need to worry about that. Viewers love you. Our ratings are the best they’ve ever been.”
“Ahh, but the creator of the show . . . I’m not so sure about her.” His words were playful, impish, and so Elle decided to play along.
“Yeah, I hear she’s a real hard-ass.”
The wind blew and Elle’s hair swished to the side, rising in the air like the flames of a fire. Luke took the ends of her hair gently in his hand, pressing it to her shoulder. “I wouldn’t say that. But she may get sick of me.”
“That seems highly unlikely.” Elle giggled as Luke’s hands drifted down to her waist. The tips of his fingertips stroked her skin gently under her blouse. She squirmed as he tickled her skin and Luke grinned from ear to ear, proud of his ability to keep her on her toes.
“I love that laugh. It’s so beautiful.”
“I didn’t realize a laugh could be beautiful.”
“Yours is.”
Luke pulled Elle in for a kiss just as the leasing agent opened the screen door and cleared his throat.
“Mr. Kingston, I have another client arriving shortly. I need to know if you’re interested—”
“I’ll take it,” Luke said with confidence, his eyes never leaving Elle’s.
“Excellent.” The agent stepped outside to join them. “The paperwork is on the kitchen counter. Deposit of first and last month’s rent is due today, and you can move in on the first.”
“Sounds great.” Luke extended his arm to the agent, who then smiled and shook his hand.
“Excuse me, please. I need to make a phone call.” He retreated back into the house, and Elle turned to Luke, a smile of excitement crossing her lips.
“Congratulations! I’m so excited for you!”
“Thank you.” Luke grinned, then lifted Elle off her feet and spun her around the deck, his hands clutching her rib cage. For a split second, Elle wanted to slap his arm and demand to be put down. But then she forced herself to let go, to enjoy the moment. And within seconds, she was laughing with Luke, her hair blowing in the ocean breeze. When her toes touched the wood of the deck, she gazed into his carefree eyes, enveloped in his lively, seize-life-whenever-you-can outlook. And she liked it. She liked it a lot.
“We should get back. I’ve kept you away too long.”
“Don’t be silly, it’s okay. We have plenty of time.” Elle smoothed down her clothes, still trying to adjust to the brisk breeze of the deck. “Although, if I’m even a few minutes late, I’ll have daggers from Gina.”
Luke chuckled. “And how is that different from any other day? She always has daggers for you.”
“Ugh, I know. It’s exhausting.”
“You could kill her off,” Luke joked. Elle allowed herself to savor that thought for a quick moment, before shaking her head and returning to reality.
“Nah. We’re losing Desmond. If I take Molly out of the equation, it won’t even be the same show anymore.”
“Would that be so awful? It could be a fresh start.”
There was that term again. Troy had used it the previous week in his living room, and now Luke was using it in reference to the show.
“Or career suicide . . . for both of us. Molly is the heart and soul of the show. Even if the actress who plays her is a total pill.”
“Don’t let her get to you. She’s not worth your time.” Luke took Elle’s hand in his and they walked into the kitchen, where he signed the contracts and handed a check to the leasing agent.
As he handed the pen to the leasing agent, Elle smiled. “Welcome home.”
Even though Elle and Luke were five minutes late, the lead actors were nowhere to be found in the conference room. Their table read wasn’t nearly finished and they were scheduled to run until at least 4:00 p.m., if not longer. The supporting cast was seated, ready to begin, but Gina and Nolan were absent. Elle wondered where they could be.
“Um . . . that’s odd.”
“Should I go look for them? See what’s holding them up?” Luke offered, placing his hand on the knob.
“No, I’ll do it. You can look over your script and I’ll be right back. Text me if they show up, okay?”
Perplexed, Elle walked down the hallway, hoping she wouldn’t interrupt a lovers’ quarrel of some kind. She braced herself as she walked in the direction of the executive offices. When she turned a corner into the atrium, she heard shouting.
Oh boy.
She followed the screeching voice of Gina, who was standing in the doorway to Whitney’s office.
“I can’t believe this! You said it was over!”
“Baby, listen to me.” Nolan could be heard from inside the office.
“Baby?” Whitney yelled, sounding appalled. “Since when is she your baby? Did you get back together with her?”
“I’m sorry, Whit. I can exp—”
“Don’t apologize to her!” Gina shrieked, stomping her foot against the linoleum floor. “I am so done. You begged me, pleaded with me for another chance. And being the idiot I am, I gave it to you. But now I’m done. You can fuck off, Nolan Rivera. And take your little whore with you!”
Gina wiped her cheeks and stormed toward Elle, whose feet were frozen to the floor. Gina’s cheeks were the color of a blasting fire engine. Elle felt terrible for her, unable to comprehend how it must feel to be the victim of infidelity. It was one of her biggest fears, and seeing it transpire right in front of her eyes was gut-wrenching.
“You knew about this, didn’t you?” Gina’s eyes were bulging from their sockets. Outrage poured from her skin.
“No! No, I promise you, I had no clue.”
“I don’t believe you.” Tears streamed down Gina’s cheeks as she yelled. “I gotta get outta here.”
“Listen, take the day. We have the table read, but it’s okay, just go home.”
“I don’t give a shit about the table read, Elle! Just leave me the hell alone.”
Gina stormed away and Elle pulled herself together to approach the wreckage. Nolan was half-dressed, seated in a chair with his head in his hands. Whitney, her lipstick smeared, her hair disheveled, was standing behind her desk, her hand covering her mouth. She was just as shocked as Gina, just as betrayed.
“Nolan, will you give us a minute?”
Nolan stood, his tan skin flushed, his dark hair mussed. He looked to Whitney. “I never meant for any of this—”
“Stop.” She put her hand up in front of her, her eyes cl
osed tight. “Just stop. I don’t wanna hear it. Clean yourself up and meet me in the conference room in ten minutes.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Nolan had never, not once in the years they’d worked together, called Elle ma’am. If she weren’t so upset for Whitney, she would have chuckled at his sheepish behavior. But her loyalty to Whitney and her sympathy for Gina kept her features cold as stone.
Nolan left the office, closing the door behind him. Elle and Whitney stood in silence for a moment before Elle broke the tension. “You didn’t know they were still together, did you?”
Whitney shook her head.
“Then why the secrecy? You told me it was a one-time thing. Why didn’t you tell me you were sleeping with him?”
“We were keeping it to ourselves. He said he didn’t want to hurt her and being the idiot I am, I believed him. God, I’m so stupid, Elle. So stupid!” Whitney smacked the wall with her palm, turned, and leaned down against her desk.
“You’re not an idiot. You were trying to be sensitive and not make waves.”
“I know, but now it’s a freaking mess. I’m so sorry. I never meant to mess with your show.”
“Don’t worry about that. Nolan has only seven episodes to shoot, and then he’s done. It’ll work itself out.” Elle walked to Whitney, rubbing her back with her hand. “But I’m worried about you. Were you two . . . serious?”
A sardonic laugh left Whitney’s throat as she looked up to the ceiling. “Obviously not.”
“I mean before what happened today. Were you . . . falling for him?”
In their four years of friendship, Elle had never witnessed Whitney have serious feelings about a man. She bounced from man to man without getting attached. But everything about this scenario felt different. The secrecy, the pained look on Whitney’s face, and her reaction to Gina spoke volumes.
“Yes. Can you believe it? I’m such a fool.”
“No, he is. You deserve so much more.”
Elle’s phone pinged with a text from Luke:
Nolan’s here. Gina went home, but not sure why.
“I’m so sorry to do this, but I have to go. It’s the table read.”
“Of course, I get it.” Whitney faked a smile.
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