Chapter Six
1000 Words
Chapter Six
Bear Lodge's dining room was warm and unhurried, candlelit tables set with crisp white linen and good crystal. They were seated in a quiet corner, and Chloe settled into her chair with the strange feeling of watching herself from a distance. That she was here. That this was real.
The food was exceptional, and she was hungrier than she had realised. She ate without pretending otherwise. Troy ordered wine and she accepted a glass without argument. Somewhere between the first course and the second, conversation surfaced carefully between them. Nothing dangerous. Nothing that mattered too much. He asked about her work and she answered. She asked something about the city and he replied. They were measured with each other, the way people are when they understand exactly how much damage they are capable of inflicting.
The meal had been unexpectedly pleasant.
Chloe hated herself a little for admitting it, but somewhere between the appetisers and the main course, the rigid wall she had been holding up had softened just enough to let the evening breathe. The food at Bear Lodge was exquisite, the candlelight warm and forgiving, and Troy had been careful not to push her. He had talked about easy things. New York in the summer. Rea's favourite foods. Whether she still took her coffee with two sugars.
She did. He remembered.
That small fact sat uncomfortably in her chest all through dinner.
By the time dessert was cleared away, she had almost forgotten the ring sitting in his pocket, the threat hanging over her head, the wedding he had announced as coolly as a business meeting. Almost. Not quite.
"Excuse me," she said, folding her napkin neatly onto the table. "I need to use the ladies room, quickly."
Troy nodded, rising slightly from his seat in that old-fashioned way of his that she had once found so charming.
She walked through the warm interior of Bear Lodge, past the low murmur of other diners, past the soft clink of glasses and the smell of good wine. In the powder room she stood at the mirror for a moment longer than necessary, steadying herself. Her reflection looked back at her, composed on the outside, churning underneath.
She could do this. She could get through one evening.
Smoothing her dress, she turned and made her way back.
Their table was empty.
She stopped, glancing around the room. Troy's jacket was still draped over the back of his chair, his wine glass half full. He hadn't gone far. She waited a moment, then two, then flagged down a passing waiter with a polite smile.
"The gentleman I was dining with, did you happen to see where he went?"
The waiter gestured discreetly toward the far end of the room. "I believe he stepped out toward the terrace, miss."
"Thank you."
She moved through the restaurant unhurriedly, not wanting to seem anxious, telling herself he had simply gone for some air. The terrace doors were slightly ajar, and a warm breeze drifted through. She pushed one open quietly and stepped through.
She saw them before they saw her.
Troy was standing near the stone balustrade at the far end of the terrace, half turned away from her. And in his arms, her head resting against his chest, was Rose.
The world seemed to tilt.
Chloe's hand found the door frame behind her and she pressed herself back into the shadow of the entrance, her breath caught somewhere high in her throat. Rose's dark hair was loose around her shoulders, the way it always had been. Troy's hand moved slowly, gently, across her back.
It was the same. It was exactly the same.
The same way she had found them five years ago in her father's house, Rose in his arms like she belonged there, like she had always belonged there, while Chloe's father sat downstairs not knowing a thing.
For one long, horrible moment she could not move.
Then something cold and mechanical took over, and she turned and walked back through the terrace door, letting it close without a sound behind her. She crossed the restaurant at an even pace, her heels quiet on the polished floor, her face arranged into an expression she did not feel. She found their table, sat down, and reached for her water glass with a steady hand.
She took a sip.
She set the glass down.
She looked at the candle burning low between the flowers and she did not think about anything at all.
Troy returned a few minutes later, sliding easily back into his seat with the unhurried air of a man who had simply stepped away for a moment. Nothing in his face suggested anything out of the ordinary. He picked up his wine glass and looked at her over the rim.
"Sorry about that. I ran into someone."
"Oh?" The word came out perfectly light, perfectly indifferent. She was almost impressed with herself.
"No one important." He took a sip of wine. "Are you alright? You look a little pale."
"I'm fine," she said. "It's been a long day."
He studied her for a moment in that unnerving way he had, like he was reading something written beneath the surface of her face. She held his gaze evenly, willing herself not to blink, not to look away, not to give him a single thing.
"You're sure?"
"Perfectly." She reached for the dessert menu that was still sitting at the edge of the table, even though she had no appetite for anything. "Do you think they do coffee here, or is it too late to ask?"
Troy watched her a moment longer, then set down his glass.
"I'll ask," he said quietly.
She kept her eyes on the menu until he turned to signal the waiter, and only then did she allow herself one small, private breath.
She would not cry. She would not let him see.
She had made that mistake once before, and it had cost her everything.
- Writer
