Chapter 62

DIANA

This was such a bad idea. I knew it was a bad idea before I ever agreed to dinner with Troy. But it was a small town, and I couldn't hide forever. We were bound to run into each other. Avoiding him just made things more awkward. I had enough awkwardness in my life. I didn't need more stress.

I sat across the table from Troy at Salt. He failed to mention he wanted to take me to one of the nicest restaurants in town. It felt very date-like. A wave of discomfort washed over me. It was so hard to see Troy as anything but my friend.

Thankfully, Abigail wasn't our server tonight. The last thing I needed was her witnessing this train wreck of a date and inevitably teasing me about it for the rest of eternity. Once news got out that Troy and I were here, it was going to be big news in town. The gossip around town was going to be intense.

I couldn't help but wonder why I had agreed to go out to dinner with Troy when he asked me the other day. Sure, he was a good friend, almost like a brother to me, but that was exactly the problem. It felt wrong to be sitting here with him, pretending that this was anything other than a painfully awkward mismatch.

"You look nice," Troy said.

"You do, too." I smiled. "I think the last time I saw you in a suit was at prom."

Troy was dressed impeccably in a sharp suit. He did look very handsome. But despite his best efforts, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

He was being flirty, charming, doing everything right by the book of dating etiquette. But all I could think about was how badly I wanted the night to be over, how desperately I wished I could click my heels together and magically transport myself far, far away from this awkward dinner. Troy and I had dinner countless times, but it never felt quite like this. He was trying too hard.

I glanced around the restaurant and couldn't help but think about the last time I was here. With Hudson. That had been a date. It was the kind of place where people came to celebrate special occasions, to mark milestones in their lives with fine wine and exquisite cuisine.

I took a sip of water and tried to act cool. Why had I agreed to this? What had possessed me to subject myself to this torture, this endless parade of forced pleasantries and stilted conversation?

"How's work?" he asked.

"Good." I smiled.

I took another drink of water, trying to think of a good excuse to bail out. Troy leaned forward and took my hand in his. "I like this," he said.

"The restaurant is great." I smiled.

"No," he replied, his thumb brushed across my hand. "This. Us. Doesn't it feel right?"

I forced a smile, nodding along as if his words were the most fascinating thing I had ever heard, all the while counting down the minutes until I could make my escape.

I was trapped, caught in a web of my own making, with no hope of escape.

"Oh, our waitress is here," I said and pulled my hand back.

I feigned interest in the menu as the waitress approached, grateful for the interruption. After we placed our orders, a tense silence settled over the table, punctuated only by the soft music playing in the background. Troy's gaze bored into me, his eyes expectant, waiting for me to reciprocate his advances. I fidgeted with my napkin, avoiding his intense stare.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted at a nearby table, drawing our attention. A couple was having a heated argument, their voices rising above the noise of the restaurant. Troy and I exchanged a knowing glance, both relieved to have something else to focus on besides our own awkward situation. The tension at our table eased as we silently observed the unfolding drama. The couple's argument escalated, and soon enough, the man stood up abruptly, knocking his chair over in the process. The woman burst into tears, causing a scene that caught the attention of other diners and restaurant staff.

I couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the distressed woman. As the man stormed off, leaving her alone at the table, I felt an overwhelming urge to reach out and offer support.

"Lover's quarrel." Troy laughed. "What do you think happened? Think he cheated?"

"I honestly don't know." I shrugged. "She seemed sad."

"I would never cheat," he said.

I did what any self-respecting person would do in my situation—I gritted my teeth, plastered on a fake smile, and soldiered on, praying for the sweet release of oblivion that only the end of the evening could bring.

"I'm going to order wine," he declared.

"What? Why?"

He chuckled. "It's a special night."

I inwardly groaned, keeping the smile on my face. With a knowing smile, he ordered a Malbec—the same wine that had become my favorite over the years. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes about his attentiveness and the effort he had put into planning this evening. He was really trying. I so wished I could go back to our last dinner and end all of this before it ever got started.

Our wine was delivered. I eagerly sucked it down.

"How are you coping with the return to classes?" Troy asked.

I nodded. "Good. Just getting back into the groove. I'm trying to incorporate some new stuff into the lessons for the kids."

"Any interesting new students in class?" he asked.

"They are all interesting," I replied with a small laugh. "You will never meet a third grader that's exactly like the next third grader. They are all very unique."

"Are you still across the hall from Rachel?"

His questions were harmless enough, but they only served to underscore the gaping chasm that lay between us. It was as if we were speaking different languages. He was trying so hard to keep a conversation going, but it wasn't natural.

"This is nice, right?" he said as he sipped his wine.

"This place always gets high praise," I agreed.

"Diana, you know what I mean," he said.

"What? It's a nice restaurant. Abigail loves working here."

"Diana." He grinned. "That's not what I mean. This is nice. Me and you. Doesn't it feel like this has been a long time coming? We've known each other for years. We've spent nights together, but we've never had a first kiss. Everyone has always thought we were a couple. We should be. We look good together."

"This was a mistake," I confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush of breathless honesty. "I'm so sorry, Troy. It's not that I don't love you. I do. But I can't love you that way. I shouldn't have agreed to come for dinner. It's unfair. I wanted to love you the way you deserve, but that's not the way I feel. You would be so perfect for me, but I just can't look at you like that. You're my best friend. I don't want to ruin that."

His reaction was immediate—a flash of anger in his eyes, a tightening of his jaw as he struggled to process my words. "Damn right it's unfair," he shot back, his voice laced with bitterness and hurt.

"I'm sorry, Troy," I said.

"Don't be," he hissed. "It's not like you're that special."

He pushed back his chair and pulled out his wallet. He threw down some cash and stormed out of the restaurant. It seemed to be a trend tonight.

I watched him go, feeling the weight of his disappointment. The server approached with our meals. She looked confused. I had never been so humiliated.

"Could you please pack up my food?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper as I struggled to maintain my composure. "I don't think I'll be finishing my dinner tonight."

"Sure." She smiled.

I took my box of leftovers and walked outside the restaurant. I wasn't surprised to see Troy was nowhere to be found. He ditched me. I pulled out my phone and dialed the one person I knew would come to my rescue.

"Dad?" I spoke into the phone, my voice shaky with emotion.

"Diana, sweetheart, is everything alright?" His concern was evident in his tone.

I hesitated, the words catching in my throat as I struggled to find the right way to articulate the mess of emotions churning inside me. "No, Dad, everything's not alright," I blurted out. "I need you to come pick me up."

"Of course, sweetheart. I'll be there right away. Where are you?"

I glanced around the restaurant, my eyes scanning the familiar surroundings with a sense of detachment. "I'm at Salt," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "Troy drove me here, but he's gone. He left me here."

There was a brief pause. "I'll be there as soon as I can, Diana. Just hang tight, okay? Everything's going to be alright."

"Okay." I sighed.

I stood outside the restaurant, the cool night air doing little to calm the storm of emotions raging inside me. Just knowing he was coming made me feel better. I hated that I still needed my daddy, but I was so glad I had him. It wasn't long before he arrived.

I slid into the passenger seat. A wave of relief washed over me. "Thanks, Dad."

My father glanced at me, concern etched on his face. "Do you want to talk about it, Diana?" he asked gently.

"Troy," I said.

"What about him?" he asked.

"He confessed his feelings for me," I admitted, the words feeling heavy on my tongue. "And I couldn't reciprocate. It was all so awkward and painful. I feel like I've ruined everything. I know you like him. I do too, but I would never be able to love him in that way."

My father listened quietly as I poured out my heart, the tears flowing freely now as I tried to make sense of the mess that had unfolded. His hand found mine, a warm and comforting presence in the midst of my turmoil.

"Diana, you have nothing to feel guilty about," he said firmly. "It's brave to be honest about your feelings, even when it's difficult. And if Troy truly cares about you, he will understand and respect your honesty. You deserve to be with someone who loves you the way you deserve to be loved. And Troy deserves to have a woman that can give him her whole heart. I think we both know your heart is not free to give."

I leaned my head against the window, watching the town that was so familiar to me blur by as my father drove us home.

As we pulled into the driveway of my house, I felt a sense of calm wash over me. I broke Troy's heart, but I knew he would get over it.

"Thank you, Dad," I said.

"Anytime."

"Dad, don't talk to Troy about this," I said.

He smirked. "I'm not happy with that man. How dare he leave you like that?"

"I know, but he was hurt and angry," I said. "It wasn't like I was abandoned in the middle of nowhere."

"It was not the move of a gentleman," he said.

"No, but he was mad."

"Do you think you'll ever be friends again?" he asked.

"Honestly, I don't know." I sighed. "I think I hurt him pretty bad. I never wanted to hurt him, never wanted to be the cause of his pain, but in my attempt to spare his feelings, I had only made things worse. I shouldn't have led him on."

"Honesty is always the best policy," he said. "I'm proud of you for being honest even though it was difficult. That takes integrity. If Troy can't appreciate that, that's his loss. You two had a good friendship. I think it would be a shame if he let it go because he didn't like the truth."

I leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Dad. I'm going to bed. Thank you for the ride. I appreciate it. I'll talk to you tomorrow."