But I barely register any of it. I'm looking at Troy
As we're ushered toward the side of the stage, certificates and congratulations in hand, I find my voice.
“Thank you,” I say quietly, just for him. “You didn't have to do that.”
He looks at me, steady and serious in a way that's rare for Troy Hawkins.
“Yes, I did,” he says simply. “It's the truth.”
We pause at the edge of the stage, the next steps unclear. Do we return to our separate seats? Do we stay together now? It's a small decision that somehow feels enormous.
“There's a reception in the lobby,” he says, filling the silence. “Open bar. Terrible hors d'oeuvres. You know, the usual university splurge.”
I nod, still trying to process everything. Troy in a suit. Winning the grant. His speech. The way he's looking at me now, patient and a little uncertain.
“Delilah!” Trixie's voice cuts through my thoughts. She's standing at the bottom of the stage steps, beaming up at me, hands clasped in excitement. Behind her, I spot Lacey making her way through the crowd, pink coat visible even at a distance.
“You've got people waiting,” Troy says, a small smile on his lips. Not his usual smirk, but something softer. “Go celebrate with them.”
I hesitate, suddenly afraid that if I walk away now, we'll slip back into our carefully maintained distance. Four weeks of silence. Four weeks of pretending we never mattered to each other.
I'm not ready for that again.
“Actually,” I say, the words coming out before I can overthink them, “I was hoping you might join us. For a drink, at least.”
His eyebrows lift slightly, surprise and something like hope crossing his face.
“Are you sure?”
I nod. “Yes. If you want to.”
“I want to,” he says, those three simple words carrying more weight than they should.
Then, before I can lose my nerve, I reach for his hand. His fingers entwine with mine instantly, like they remember exactly how we fit together.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, the words barely audible over the buzz of the crowd. “For pushing you away. For not trusting what was right in front of me.”
Troy's eyes widen, and for a moment I think I've said too much, too soon. But then his face softens, and the smile that spreads across his lips reaches all the way to his eyes.
“I'm sorry too,” he says, squeezing my hand. “For walking away. For not fighting harder.”
It feels like breathing again after being underwater for too long. Simple. Necessary.
"We're quite the pair, aren't we?" I say, grinning.
He laughs, the sound warm and familiar. “The worst. Absolutely terrible at this.”
“Maybe we could try being terrible at it together?” I suggest, heart pounding.
Troy reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering. “I'd like that, Greer. I'd like that a lot.”
As we walk down the steps hand in hand, I feel something shifting between us—not a clean slate, but a new understanding. The barriers aren't gone, not completely, but there are cracks now. Places where light can get through.
Lacey spots our joined hands immediately, her eyes widening before she breaks into a knowing grin.
“Well, well, well,” Lacey says, looking between us. “This is an interesting development.”
Troy laughs, giving my hand another squeeze. "Interesting is one word for it."
