"Okay, Mama," Laurie half-pouts, but then brightens. “He was awesome! Why can't he do that every game?"
"Because there are a lot of big, mean men who are trying to stop me," a voice behind me says, and my head whips around. It's hard to breathe again as Troy comes up, his hair a little shorter than he wore it in high school, and his shoulders a little wider, his chest a little more muscular, but still . . . that smile, those intense blue eyes . . . it's hard to breathe. "I take it you enjoyed the game?"
"Uh-huh!" Laurie nods, yelling in her excitement. She doesn't know it, but it's the first time she's really met her father, and already, I can see she's entranced with him. It's easy to see why as Troy squats down next to her chair, pulling his left hand from behind his back, where he'd been holding a football. "What's that?"
"I remember that when I talked to you in the stands, I promised you something for you too, and not just your mama," Troy says, handing the football to her. "The team lets me keep footballs that I return for touchdowns, and I thought there's nobody I'd like to give it to more than the cute little girl who helped me on the field by cheering so loudly for me."
"Wow . . .” Laurie says, entranced as her tiny hands try to hold the pro-sized ball. "You wrote on it?"
"Uh-huh," Troy says, staying squatting. "It says 'To Laurie, thanks for the big help, Troy Wood.' Sorry if my handwriting is a bit messy. It's hard to write on leather with a pen."
"Can I play with it?" Laurie asks, and I have to hide my chuckle. A normal fan would probably have immediately socked the ball away as a keepsake, hoping to maybe sell it on EBay some day. Laurie's a five-year-old kid. She sees a new ball she can try and play with.
"If you want," Troy says with a laugh, "but it's a little big for you right now. Maybe start with a smaller one first, one that you can hold easier."
"Would you join us, Troy?" I ask, nodding at the fourth chair. "After all, when you give away things like that, the least we can do is offer you coffee."
"I'd appreciate that," Troy says, and his eyes are burning with intensity again. "It's been a long time, Whitney. So what's brought you back to Silver Lake Falls?"
"Family vacation," I say, still not letting on that Lorenzo and I aren't together. I can't trust myself around Troy. His pull is like gravity, and I need to hold out, if only for Laurie's sake. "I wanted to bring Laurie to meet her grandmother. Mom's ecstatic, of course. And, I got an invitation to Dani Vaughn's wedding."
"Really? That's good," Troy says, hiding the hurt my words cause pretty well. It doesn’t make it to his face, but I can see it in his eyes. Now he knows I've been in contact with Dani and not him. "I'm sorry. I wasn't introduced to you, sir. Troy Wood."
"Lorenzo Galvani," Lorenzo replies, and the two men shake hands. I can tell Lorenzo is jealous, and maybe he should be. I'm having a hard time seeing him at all now that Troy has joined us. "Whitney tells me that you and her used to . . . go to high school together?"
“We did,” Troy replies, sitting back. The waitress comes over, clearly star struck but handling it well, Troy's obviously known around town, and he takes his order, a tiramisu, after Laurie tells him what she's having. "I think I earned the treat tonight, don't you, Laurie?"
"Uh-huh," Laurie says, grinning. “It’s good.”
"That it is," Troy agrees, smiling at my daughter fondly. He turns his smile to me, and I feel fresh heat inside me, a heat that's been gone for a very long time. "So you're in town for a while. That's great. If I can ask, what have you been up to the past few years? I mean, I figure you've been in Europe, but you know . . . lots of time between high school and now."
Lots of time, and none at all, I think, looking into Troy's face and fighting back the memories. Did I fall into a time machine or something?
"We're expanding our business," Lorenzo interjects, his neck stiff and his body taking on that posture that I'd learned so long ago means he's pissed off. Not every man is ruled by their passions, but Lorenzo is certainly one of them. "We are thinking of opening a new gallery in the area."
"A gallery? Impressive," Troy says, taking a sip of water. "What sort of gallery?"
"I studied art when I was in Europe," I reply, nervous about Lorenzo's tone of voice. I don't want a fight, not here, not now. He’s supposed to be okay with us not being together, but this is tough, I’m sure. “I’ve picked up a good eye for art, it seems, and I've cultivated a good list of clients here in the States. It's gotten big enough that we're thinking of maybe making a go of it full time here, instead of our clients having to come to us in Italy."
“Ambitious," Troy says. "I am glad you've found success. It was hard not knowing for so long."