Struggle to Forever: a friends to lovers duet

by Lilliana Anderson

  “I don’t know what to say to you, Elliot. I’m sorry your father’s money holds such importance you let it rule your decisions. I’ve never had lots of money, so to me the choice to follow my heart would have been easy.” I shake my head, searching for the words to convey how I feel about everything that happened between us. “You hurt me, Elliot. You made me feel special, you made me feel loved. You let me feel something for you then, poof.” I use my hands to mime the word. “It was all gone, and all I got was an insult about being a Westie from your father, and not so much as a text message from you. That hurt me greatly, Elliot. It made me feel worthless. But it’s you, I feel most sorry for.” He knits his brows together as he listens to me. “You’re the one that lost out here. You gave up what you thought was love. For money—money, Elliot. I can’t understand that.”

  “I’m so sorry, Katrina,” he barely whispers. His hand twitches toward mine, but he seems to realise what he’s doing and curls his fingers underneath instead. “I can’t tell you enough how sorry I am. You don’t know how many times I started to call you, how many times I wrote an email, a text… I know things have changed for you, but my feelings are still the same. I fucked up. I fucked up big time. And I can’t change that now, I wish I could, but, I can’t.” His handsome face etches with pain as he speaks to me.

  Our table gets called to go up to the buffet, and the others around us stand to make their way over, leaving Elliot and me on our own for a moment. I watch Beth and Bianca hesitate as they stand, desperately wanting to stay to try to find out what Elliot and I are talking about. I stand as well, turning to Elliot, who is still sitting.

  “I’m really sorry too,” I say. “Just be thankful this all happened early on while we were only getting started. At least we weren’t too invested in each other yet. Things would have been a lot harder the longer we were together.” I touch him lightly on the shoulder and make my way to the buffet, but he catches my hand and holds me there.

  “I’m still invested in you,” he says, looking at me sincerely.

  I pull my hand from his. “I’m sorry, Elliot. I’m not. You need to let this go.” Walking away from him, I ignore the watchful eyes of others, chancing a glance back toward him when I reach the buffet.

  He is sitting sideways in his chair slouched over with his elbows on his knees, and his hands clasped together as he stares at the floor. He takes a deep breath and sits up, running his hands over his face and through his hair.

  I decide to resign from this job, now fully understanding the reason for the 'no-dating' policy. It’s hard to be around a person you once loved, and even harder to work with them every day.

  As I watch him walk over to the buffet, he gives me a small smile and shrugs his shoulders in capitulation. It’s then that I make my next decision: to forgive him. He’s clearly torturing himself over what happened. Whether I continue to be angry with him or not is of no consequence anymore. It’s time I look on our relationship for what it was—a beautiful struggle; one that we ultimately lost, but it was wonderful while it lasted. I can’t hate him for that.

  I get through the necessary parts of the Christmas party, trying to talk pleasantly to everyone at my table, even attempting some nice conversation with Beth and Bianca. I don't receive much of a response but, at least I try to make the best of things.

  When everyone starts dancing, I slip outside to call David and tell him what happened.

  “Are you OK?” he asks when I finish, concern edging his voice.

  “I’m fine. I actually feel a lot better about everything now. I guess I needed some closure, you know?”

  “I’m glad you got the chance to talk to him, Trina,” he says sincerely.

  “Thank you, David, I’m glad too.”

  “Although, I do feel sorry for the guy.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because you’re a hard woman to get over, Trina. I tried. And I failed miserably.”

  A light chuckle escapes my throat. “You’re sweet.”

  “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs down the line, setting the butterflies in my stomach aflutter.

  “I’d better get back in there. I’ll see you tonight?”

  “You will. I’ll call you when I’m finished. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.” I smile as I hang up the phone and head back inside to re-join the party, feeling much lighter now that I’ve spoken to my most beautiful struggle of all—my best friend, my love, my heart. Thank god we won that one.

  Epilogue

  Two years later…

  After leaving Turner Barlow & Smith, I went to work at a much smaller law firm as an office all-rounder. I love it there, getting to do some paralegal work and have a lot more hands-on experience.

  They offered a full-time position when I graduated, and now I’m a junior solicitor specialising in family law. Although working in a small law firm means I’m called upon to help out in other areas as well.

  David was taken on full time at his office too He did so well in his final year of uni that they offered him the top junior position they had. I’m very proud of my man.

  Together, we’re moving forward in our career and our relationship, pooling our funds so we could get a very small and crappy flat—even smaller than the one David rented in Lemongrove—as close to the city as we could afford. It’s cramped and a constant mess, but we love it as much as we love each other. It’s only a problem when David can’t find his tie in the morning, but most of the time they’re attached to the bedpost, so the complaints are minimal.

  Triathlons are now a thing of the past. I gave it a good try but ultimately, I wasn’t good enough to make it at a senior level, and I just didn’t have the drive I needed to push harder, preferring to put my efforts into my studies, then my career, and of course my relationship. And it’s better this way. I still train to maintain my fitness. But that intense pressure I kept putting on myself is now gone. I’m happier now I’m running for the enjoyment of it. And it’s whilst out running during my lunch break that I see Elliot again after almost two years of no contact.

  Well, I never…

  Waving when he sees me, he excuses himself from the slightly overweight man he’s with and trots towards me.

  “Hey, stranger,” he says, flashing a smile.

  He looks exactly as I remember him. His hair is perhaps a little longer but everything else is still the same. As he gets closer, I notice that his shirt advertises a personal training company.

  “What’s this?” I ask immediately, forgetting to start with ‘hi, it’s been ages. How have you been?’

  He looks down and laughs. “I’m a personal trainer now.”

  I do a double take. “What? What happened to becoming a judge?”

  He continues to smile and shakes his head. “That was my father’s dream for me. After you left the office, I did a lot of soul-searching and decided to make my own path.”

  “Wow, that’s amazing, Elliot.” I never thought he’d have it in him. But here he is, living his dream. I have to say I’m proud, and if I had any influence on this decision, then our time together was well worth the struggle. “I'm thrilled for you.”

  “Looks like congratulations are owed to you as well,” he says, nodding toward the engagement ring on my left hand. “Is that from David?”

  I nod briefly. David proposed the night we graduated, and I gladly accepted.

  “Oh, thank you. The wedding is a while off. But everything else is great.” He smiles forlornly and meets my eyes. “How about you? How are things with you?

  A sadness seems to linger just behind his eyes as he searches my face in the moments before he answers. “Well, I don’t really speak to my dad anymore. Which, really, is a good thing. And I’m seeing someone now. It took a while, and she’s not you...but things are OK. I’m not ready for a commitment like that yet.” He laughs uneasily, nodding at my ring again.

  “Well, I’d better let you get back to it.” The man Elliot was training is standing a
way from us with his hands on his hips, puffing and looking over while checking his watch. “It was nice to see you again, Evan.”

  He laughs. It’s been a long time since I’ve called him that. But there’s little humour in the sound and it pains me a little. I never wanted to hurt Elliot. Just like he never wanted to hurt me.

  “You too, Katrina. I'll see you around. If not, have a great life.” He gives me a despondent half smile and runs off, returning to his client. I watch him gracefully run away, feeling a friendly affection and a slight sadness for him before I continue on my way.

  Seeing me again seemed hard on Elliot. Although, I’m so glad he finally stood up to his father. He did it too late to make any difference to his and my relationship, but at least the next time he finds love, it won’t matter what her address is.

  As I run along the path, I glance at the ring David gave me and remember how he proposed. The jewellery box was underneath his graduation cap, and when I came over to him with my degree in hand, he complained that his hat was hurting and asked me to check it for him. When he removed his hat and handed it to me, I noticed the box and looked at his face, wondering if it really was what I thought it was.

  “One year and one month since we started,” he said, getting down on one knee.

  With quivering hands, I opened it, gasping as he asked me to marry him. I burst into happy tears. “Yes,” I cried, holding my still shaking hand out for him to slide the ring onto my finger.

  Our families were around us to witness the moment, along with a few others from the graduation ceremony. “I always knew they’d end up together,” Mum said. And they applauded when we kissed.

  It was corny and beautiful, and so very perfectly David.

  As I continue to run, I think about all the events that led me to where I am now—my relationship with Christopher, spending time with Elliot and giving into my love for David. It was a difficult and emotional time, but it all got me to where I am, happy, and in love with the only man I’ve ever truly cared for. David makes me feel right. He makes me feel complete. Despite the pain we had to go through to get to this point, I wouldn’t change a thing. Not for all the money in the world.

  Keep reading for more of David and Trina in their backstory novella, Too Close. David takes you through their school years, giving you insight into his mind and actions until that fateful day when Christopher shook their world.

  The Backstory

  DAVID: TOO CLOSE

  Prologue

  “Oh god, Trina. Open your eyes. Please be OK.” I burst through the doors of the emergency room, carrying her in my arms. She isn’t moving.

  Frantically, I look around, ignoring the shocked gasps as waiting patients take in the sight of us, covered in blood.

  “Somebody, help me!”

  No one moves as the sound around me disappears. All I can hear is my ragged breath and the sound of my own heart thudding in my ears.

  Thump, Thump.

  “Help!” I’ve never felt so helpless in all my life.

  After what feels like an age but is probably only moments, Katrina is pulled from my arms. The sound returns to the room in a noisy wave as she’s placed on a gurney, swarmed by people.

  “What happened?”

  I try to hold her hand, but I’m pushed back. “Her boyfriend.”

  “You’re her boyfriend?” the nurse asks.

  “No. Her boyfriend did this.”

  “Was she unconscious when you found her?”

  I nod. “I brought her straight here.”

  “Does she have any medical conditions? Allergies?”

  “No.”

  “Are you family?”

  “No. I’m her friend.”

  A gloved hand goes up in front of me. “Then you need to wait here.”

  “I need to stay with her.” I try to follow as they wheel her away from me, but there’s a man holding me back. “Trina!” My hands go to my hair and I grab chunks of it, trying to somehow stop the thudding of my heart in my ears. It’s painful, and I desperately want to be with her. “Please tell me she’s going to be OK.” I grab the blue scrubs of the man holding me back.

  “She’s in good hands, mate. I promise you that.” Slowly, I uncurl my fists, releasing my grip. “That’s the way. You look like you’ve been through a bit too. Why don’t you come and let me have a look at you?”

  I nod once and follow him into triage. There, he gives me an ice pack for my swollen face, and cleans up the cuts and scrape marks on my hands and arms.

  Tears burn at the backs of my eyes, and all I can think about is the sight of all that blood over Katrina’s beautiful face. “I can’t lose her. I…I can’t. She has to be OK.”

  “They’re doing everything they can,” he assures me, but I keep rambling away, my body shaking as shock settles in.

  “She’s my world. I can’t lose her. I love her.”

  “Does she know that?”

  I shake my head.

  “Then you’ll have to tell her when she’s well again.”

  “What if she…what if she doesn’t make it?”

  “Then tell God. He’ll let her know.”

  “What if I don’t believe in God?”

  “Tell him, anyway.” The nurse gives me a sympathetic smile, and we let the quiet fall while he wraps a bandage around my arm before getting me to fill out a bunch of forms that feel more complicated than they should. I can barely focus. But once I’m through, I’m taken back to the waiting room where I wait, and wait, and wait.

  Hours pass. I don’t think my leg has stopped bouncing once. I rest my elbows on my knees, and that’s uncomfortable. So, I sit back and lean my head against the wall, but that feels horrible too. My guts won’t stop swirling.

  I need to see her. But, no one will let me through those damn doors because I’m not counted as family even though I’ve known her virtually all my life.

  “David!”

  Katrina’s family rush through the automatic doors, frantic expressions as they find my eyes in the crowded room.

  “Oh god, is that your blood?” Mrs Mahoney gasps upon seeing my swollen face and blood-stained shirt. “What happened?”

  I drop my head, feeling responsible because I’m the selfish fuck who couldn’t let Trina live her own life without me in it. “The blood isn’t mine,” I force out, pulling at my shirt before I shake my head, slowly from side to side. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Where is she?” Mr Mahoney asks urgently.

  “I don’t know, they won’t tell me anything.”

  Mrs Mahoney spins on her heels and heads straight for the reception desk, asking after her daughter, with Mr Mahoney hot on her trail. Her brother Tom stays with me.

  “What happened?”

  Closing my eyes, the images of that day’s events flash through my mind. I shake my head in an attempt to clear the horror away, but I can’t. I can see it even with my eyes open. “Christopher happened.”

  “I knew I didn’t like that guy,” Tom growls through gritted teeth.

  “He came home early and caught me there with Trina. We were just watching a movie, and I know he fucking hates me, but Tom, I never expected him to lose it like he did. You should have seen his face. It was all twisted up and vicious. He decked me”—I gesture towards the damage to my face—“and threw me out of the flat. He locked the door and…I heard her screaming…then—” The rest of the words seem to lodge themselves in my throat as a wave of nausea overcomes me.

  “What happened?” he repeats, his words desperate.

  I swallow hard, not wanting to say the words out loud. “He put her through the glass sliding door, and…and...” My stomach twists and I can’t recount the rest. I grip my head and lean forwards. “I’m sorry. I didn’t stop him fast enough,” I whisper, as tears slide down my face. I don’t want to lose her.

  One

  I remember the first time I saw Katrina. I was probably ten years old at the time and girls weren’t really on my radar. But she wa
s the new kid in school, and I noticed her because she was so much taller than all the other girls.

  Each day, she wore her honey-blonde hair in two long braids that sat over her shoulders and were tied with blue ribbons to match our school uniform. Something inside me made me want to either pull on her braids, or undo those ribbons. But, I restrained myself because experience had already taught me that girls didn’t like anyone messing with their hair. Once, I swiped the headband of a girl called Tracy Beneventi and she was so pissed that she kicked me in the shin so hard that I still have a dent from her school shoes. No way was I messing with a girl’s hairstyle after that—until, of course, I got older and girls started wanting their hair pulled in certain situations. But, I digress, at the time, I was ten, and pulling hair was a no-no, so I let Katrina’s tempting braids remain untouched.

  The temptation was very real, though. We caught the same bus home each day, and I’d watch those braids swing back and forth hypnotically as the bus ambled along potholed roads on its way to Cranebrook, the farthest stop on its journey. Maybe four kids lived that far away from the school, and it took me a couple of weeks of watching her as the bus emptied out to finally decide I was going to sit next to her.

  It wasn’t so I could pull her hair. It was because she looked lonely and never talked to anyone. I figured we may as well be friends since the bus was completely boring once everyone else got off.

  “Can I sit next to you?” I asked her as soon as we got on the bus. She had her bag clutched to her chest like a shield, and I dropped straight into the vacant spot beside her, not waiting for an answer as noisy kids barrelled past us.

  “I guess,” she said, bouncing her shoulders and pulling her bag closer. I could barely hear her over the noise from everyone else.

  “I think you get off at the same stop as me,” I said, even though I knew this for sure.