22. Chapter 21
T roy
Troy wasn't sure how he'd ended up here, only that the whiskey in his glass burned less with each sip, smoothing out the jagged edges of his thoughts.
The bar was dim, flickering candlelight casting soft, shifting shadows over plush, emerald-green booths and dark wooden panelling.
The scent of aged spirits and citrus bitters lingered in the air.
It was the kind of place where people didn't come for company but for the comfort of being left alone.
That had suited him fine-until the bartender, an older man with greying temples and sharp, knowing eyes, interrupted his solitude.
"Rough night?" the man asked as he refilled Troy's glass without being asked.
Troy exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. He wasn't the type to talk. He'd always been careful, guarded. Even as a child, he had learned that sharing too much only invited scrutiny, and scrutiny invited criticism.
And yet, something about tonight, about the way Jenna had looked through him at that damn dinner party, made him open his mouth before he could stop himself.
"My wife is unhappy," he said, the words unfamiliar and uncomfortable on his tongue. "I always thought she was happy."
The bartender wiped the marble countertop and gave a noncommittal hum.
The subdued hum of jazz music played in the background, filtering through the soft murmur of conversations.
He wasn't offering sympathy, which Troy appreciated.
He didn't need to be coddled. He just needed to get this poison out of his system.
"I guess I have been avoiding things. No, she hasn’t been happy in a while," Troy continued, staring into his drink.
"Jenna... she was-she is-different from what I knew growing up.
I wanted that. Needed that. You see, my mother was always a distant, her affection doled out in small, calculated doses-just enough to make you crave more but never enough to ruffle her feathers.
It was a game of parry and retreat, every interaction measured, deliberate.
My brother and sister had fallen in line, understanding early that warmth was conditional, approval even more so.
I guess I took much longer. My father wasn't much better.
He looked at me like I was a project to perfect or a failure to discard. "
He clenched his jaw, old anger surfacing in his chest. His father had tried to discard him when he chose Jenna. Tried to make him choose between the woman he wanted to marry and the inheritance he had been raised to see as his inevitable future.
It had been the only act of rebellion he had ever allowed himself. It had also be the making of him.
"I married her anyway," he muttered, almost to himself. "Told him to go to hell. Didn't see a penny of my trust until I turned twenty-five. And by then, I didn't need it."
The bartender leaned against the counter, watching him with interest. "She know that?"
Troy gave a dry, humourless chuckle. "No."
He hadn't told Jenna how hard those first years were.
How every day had been a struggle, clawing his way into a business world that saw him as just another entitled rich kid.
How Mack had been the one steady thing in his professional life, his partner in the company they had built from the ground up.
How giving up the path laid out for him by his parents had been the hardest thing he ever had to do.
"She thinks I had it easy," he admitted. "Thinks everything just fell into place."
And maybe he had let her believe that. Maybe he had been too proud to tell her how many nights he came home exhausted, how many deals slipped through his fingers before they finally started to win.
Maybe he had wanted her to see him as steady, strong-the provider she deserved.
Well, he had not done a very good job when the chips were down, had he?
Where had he been when she really needed him?
Troy had to swallow past the lump in his throat.
“She…we lost a baby…and I wasn’t there…and she has been obsessed with that. Why can’t she let it go?”
"She should be happy," he said, running a hand through his hair. "She has everything. The house, the security... our kids have everything."
"Maybe that's not what she wanted."
Troy looked up sharply, surprised by the bartender's words. He wasn't used to people challenging him. Certainly not strangers.
The man shrugged. "You ever ask her? Maybe all you need to do is talk to her about how you feel. "
Troy opened his mouth, then closed it. Had he? He tried to remember the last time he had sat down with Jenna and really talked. Not about the kids. Not about dinner plans or schedules. Just... talked.
A flicker of something uncomfortable twisted in his chest.
He knew he had let things slip. Knew he had been careless in ways that mattered. He knew how a husband should be. Lila... she had been easy company. Flattering. A presence that expected nothing but banter. And he had told himself it was harmless because it was.
He had never crossed a hard line.
But then why did he feel like he had still done something wrong?
Troy finished his drink in one swallow, setting the glass down with a quiet clink. The ambient lighting glowed against the bottles lining the shelves, rows of rare whiskeys and botanical-infused gins casting warm reflections on the mirrored wall.
The bartender didn't press him. Just refilled his glass again before saying, "If I were you, I'd sleep it off before I did anything stupid."
Troy smirked despite himself. "You think I've got more stupidity left in me tonight?"
The bartender just raised an eyebrow.
With a heavy sigh, Troy pulled out his phone and called for a car to take him to the apartment before reaching for his wallet to pay.
It was handstitched, made from supple leather with all the right pockets.
Jenna had replaced it when his old one started falling apart.
Yet another gift she had left for him to find in her normal unintrusive way.
Yet another facet of Jenna that he had taken for granted.
It wasn't that late, but he knew Jenna would need time to reboot before she would be willing to talk. Maybe he needed it too. He had never known her to behave this way.
As he stood, wobbling on his feet, he tried to remember a time he had been this drunk. The one time he did indulge, it did not end well, what with his situation. Something he did not talk about. Another thing he hadn’t shared with Jenna .
"I'd better get going. I need to give Jenna time to cool off. Then we will talk. We should have talked years ago. I am very good at procrastination",he said as he paid his bill.
Anything to avoid the reality that he was a coward to delay the inevitable and a fool to think Jenna was going to forget like all those other times. Especially when he had let her down in the worst possible way and it was still between them like a wound that never healed.
He hesitated, then finally asked, "What do you do when you realize you might have screwed everything up, slowly but surely?"
The bartender wiped down the counter, not looking at him. "Depends. You want to be right, or do you want to fix it?"
Troy didn't answer though he knew what he had to do.