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His father looked at me in shock.
“I’m surprised you’re still here,” he said with a chuckle. “They usually don’t last long.”
“Oh?” I asked with feigned surprise. “It’s a great job. I’ve really enjoyed it.”
I noticed the twinkle in his eye falter slightly, but his smile remained.
“Are you ready for your speech?” his father asked, turning to Troy, already bored of me.
“Yep,” Troy answered with a confidence I was proud of.
“Well, good luck up there. You’ll need it. You have a tough act to follow.” His father pointed his thumbs at himself before walking away.
“He’s…pleasant,” I said.
Troy let out a laugh as we found our seats. The next hour passed slowly as traders from all around the East Coast shared their tips on maximizing returns and reducing risks in today’s market. Except for Troy’s father, whose speech was more about his own accolades rather than helping anyone else. But everyone was so caught up in his success and who he was that they gave him a standing ovation.
When it was Troy’s turn, he took the podium confidently, his hands gripped around the wooden base lightly as he took in the crowd. He spent the next two minutes delivering his speech flawlessly, and I couldn’t decide where to look. At him speaking eloquently and looking sexy in a suit, or at his father, who seemed to be scrutinizing every word and trying to find a fault that didn’t exist. At the end of Troy’s speech, I, along with everyone else, gave him a standing ovation and may have been louder than his father’s, much to my satisfaction.
Afterward, he made his way through the crowd, accepting pats on the back, until he found me. He looked excited, like a little kid, and for a moment I thought he might hug me. But instead, he held out his hand and shook mine lightly, sending electricity through my whole body. It was the first time we had really touched in weeks.
“Thank you,” he said.
I swallowed hard and nodded.
“I better get home,” I said, glancing at my watch. It was just past 5 o’clock. “If that’s okay.”
“Uh, sure. Yeah, that’s fine,” he said, deflated.
“Great job up there.” I turned and started for the door, feeling like I could float right out of the windows and down to the chilly river in the distance. I didn’t know if it was my pride in Troy making me feel this way, or the way his fingers found mine just now. I just knew I had to get out of there.
As I made my way to the door, past all the men in suits talking about money and successful trades and their latest affairs with women half their age, I was reminded of how out of place I was in this world. A world of wealth and scandal and people who would never accept me. Troy’s world. I was reminded of the gala and the distant whisper of his words.
She’s just my personal assistant.
That’s all I would ever be.Remember that, I thought, before I let myself get carried away by him again.
I took a cab back to my apartment in Queens, where I was sure none of those men in that conference room had ever stepped foot near. Besides Troy.
I wouldn’t see him for the next two days, and I suddenly missed him more than I had allowed myself to since I ended things between us. My apartment suddenly felt colder. Lonelier. I sighed as I changed out of my black pantsuit and into a pair of sweats and an oversized hoodie. My usual weekend uniform, when I wasn’t opting for pajamas. I pulled the menus from my drawer in the kitchen and debated which takeout to order. I decided to go with Fu Yings. Again. But ordered delivery. I didn’t want any more run-ins with Dean.
As I waited for my food to arrive, I decided to get started on a sample piece for Erica’s newspaper. I had agreed to at least apply and see where it went, and the last thing I needed to do was write this piece for them to preview a sample of my work. I could have pulled from one of my novels, but decided to challenge myself and write something new.
The cursor blinked slowly on the blank page, taunting me. I began to type, not knowing where it was going yet, but hoping it would find its way. After a few short minutes, the story began to take shape and my fingers were moving faster across the keys. I finished it in record time and could have kept going, but my allotted word count stopped me. It was a short story, not a novel, I reminded myself.
I read over it and felt a familiar sense of pride. I had done it. I also realized how much the story had been drawn from my own life, as if my relationship with Troy had been played out in pretty words before me. I read them over, seeing him in the text. Seeing us. I had given us a happy ending and it made my eyes burn.
All of my novels I had written in the past were never really based on me or my relationships because there were few to be had. I guessed I was writing what I wanted, trying to fill the void in my life with made-up characters and feelings I yearned to exist.
Then that void was unexpectedly filled by Troy, and all those feelings I had written into fictional existence werereal.The yearning. The passion. The drama. It had all been there, and now it was typed out in a neat little story that glared at me from my screen. I hit the save button and attached the document to an email to Erica before I could go over it again with a more scrutinizing eye.
I closed my laptop and looked out at the inky sky sprinkled with white flakes of snow. I wondered what Troy was doing now, and if he ever had imagined a happy ending for us. If only I fit into his world, maybe it could happen for us, but I knew I never would. I knew it from the way his father looked at me. The way Veronica sneered. The way those people had laughed at my expense. We would have to find our own happy endings. And as much as it hurt, I wanted that for him.
Chapter 38
Troy
As the conference wrapped up, I was still thinking about Monica and how things between us felt different today.Gooddifferent. Despite her trying to quit this morning, the day turned around. She had looked at me in a way that closely resembled the glances that once knocked the air out of me. We didn’t just talk in clipped sentences. She had helped me write a speech that blew my father’s out of the water, and she had sweetly put him in his place when he tried to tear me down. It meant more than she knew.