Chapter 40 #2
Troy steps forward, his posture relaxed as always. He holds the certificate in one hand, his other arm extending slightly toward me—keeping me included without forcing me forward.
“Wow,” he begins, flashing that boyish smile that somehow works on everyone. “Thank you. This is... pretty incredible.”
The audience chuckles, already charmed. Of course, they are. It's Troy.
“I want to start by thanking the judges, Professor Holwell, and everyone involved in this competition. The other finalists created amazing projects—seriously, I was taking notes.”
He glances toward Trixie and Jonathan, giving them a small nod of acknowledgment. It's so typically Troy—gracious, inclusive, making everyone feel seen.
“This was a team project,” he continues, “and of course, I brought my engineering genius to it.”
The audience laughs, and I can't help but smile despite my nerves. He's playing the cocky card, but I know what's coming.
His voice softens. “But the real genius behind our project is Delilah Greer.”
He turns to look at me, and the sincerity in his eyes catches me off guard.
“This entire concept—the idea that sustainability isn't just about building something green, but about creating a space that teaches others to live more sustainably—that was all Delilah. Her vision, her breakthrough, her passion.”
The spotlight feels less harsh now, somehow. I'm acutely aware of every person watching us, but with Troy sharing the moment, it feels bearable. Almost right.
“When we decided to be partners, I admit I was skeptical,” Troy says, a small smile playing at his lips. “Delilah and I had a... complicated history.”
A knowing chuckle ripples through the audience. I feel my cheeks flush.
“But I'll let you all in on a little secret,” he continues.
“Since the day we met at camp last summer, when this woman fixed a 1960s HVAC system wearing ski gloves as protection”—he mimics oversized mittens on his hands, earning another laugh from the crowd—“I knew that if I stuck by her, I might sparkle with some of her success.”
My breath catches in my throat. I can’t believe that he is choosing this moment to give me the due credit for that in front of everyone.
Troy turns to me now, his voice quieter but still captured by the microphone.
“Delilah is brilliant. Stubborn, yes. Intimidating, absolutely. But she sees possibilities the rest of us miss. She pushed me to be better, to think bigger, to care more.” He looks back at the audience. “This project wouldn't exist without her.”
The applause that follows is thunderous. Professor Holwell steps forward to shake my hand again, his expression impressed. The dean says something about scheduling meetings to discuss implementation.
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."
“Overdue is another,” Trixie chimes in.
I feel a blush creeping up my neck, but I don't pull away. Instead, I lean slightly into Troy's side, allowing myself this closeness I've denied for too long.
“I'm Trixie,” she says. “I've heard a lot about you.”
Troy shakes her hand, a hint of his old confidence returning. “All terrible things, I'm sure.”
“Mostly,” she agrees cheerfully. “But I believe in seeing for myself.”
Lacey throws her arms around me with a squeal. “You won! You're a genius! I knew it!”
I laugh, returning her hug with genuine warmth. When I pull back, I see her eyes dart between me and Troy, questions swimming in them.
“You remember Troy,” I say.
Her smile turns sly. “Oh, I definitely remember Troy.”
Before anyone can say anything embarrassing, I spot Jonathan approaching, his expression congratulatory despite his own team's loss.
“Well done, you two,” he says, shaking Troy's hand. “That educational component was inspired.”
As the conversation flows around me—Trixie explaining their water flow project to Troy, Lacey chatting with Jonathan about the reception—I feel something settle inside me. A sense of rightness I haven't experienced in months.
Here I am, surrounded by people I care about. People who know me—the real me, not the carefully constructed version I used to present. People who stayed despite my walls, or who I've let in since.
And Troy, standing beside me, our arms occasionally brushing as we talk. Not back where we were, but maybe somewhere new. Somewhere with possibility.
For the first time in my life, I'm not watching from the outside, waiting for it all to fall apart.
I'm here.