Chapter Three
TRISSA
I smoothed a hand down my emerald green dress, the sequins cool and sharp beneath my fingers. I loved how the style hugged my plus-size curves in a way that gave me even more confidence. A kind salesperson had helped me find it a few years ago when I needed to get dressed up for an awards show honoring Peter.
Luminosity sure lived up to its online photos. The chandeliers cast a warm glow over the elegant dining room and bar. The gentle murmur of conversation and the soft clink of silverware created a sophisticated setting that made me grateful I’d hunted through my moving boxes to find this dress—the fanciest one I owned.
As I waited for the hostess, I caught the scent of seared steak and truffle oil, making my stomach growl. I hadn’t eaten all day. My nerves from this morning’s near-disaster and tonight’s dinner with Peter had rendered me too anxious to keep anything down.
“Welcome to Luminosity,” the hostess greeted me with a practiced smile.
“Hi, I’m meeting Peter Young. Has he arrived?” The name felt weighted on my tongue, carrying years of history and unspoken feelings.
Only a slight widening of the hostess’s eyes betrayed her recognition. “No, I’m sorry, ma’am. He isn’t here yet. If you’d like, you can wait at the bar until he arrives.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, clutching my purse tighter to my soft stomach as I weaved my way past her and others to the bar. A drink might calm my uneasiness. Although, a small part of me whispered that liquid courage wouldn’t guarantee the perfect night.
Nervous energy zinged to the tips of my toes and fingers, keeping me on edge. Now that I had slowed down, I began to worry about the night and what it could mean for Peter and me.
As I approached the bar, my gaze swept over the patrons. Despite being a Wednesday, it was packed. Only two or three seats remained open at the far end. I was so focused on securing a spot that I almost missed the familiar silhouette attempting to stand from his seat at the bar.
My breath caught in my throat.
Killian.
Memories flooded back—late nights writing songs, his laughter echoing in the school hallways, the warmth of his arm around me as we faced the world together. And then, he disappeared. One day we were best friends and the next we suddenly stopped talking.
When I asked Peter about it, he said that Killian just wanted different things and sometimes friendships faded. That we had to accept it and move on. So I did, but I never stopped thinking of him or feeling sad that our little group—the three of us who’d vowed to face the world together—no longer existed.
I’d followed Killian’s career over the years, always rooting for him and his success from the sidelines. But until now, we hadn’t run into each other. He was a big star in his own right, but Peter eclipsed Killian’s career in every way.
I hesitated, torn between approaching him and pretending I hadn’t seen him. Before I could decide, my clutch vibrated with an incoming text. Probably Peter , I thought with a mixture of anticipation and resigned humor. He’d never been on time a day in his life.
Distracted by fishing my phone from my far too-small clutch, I missed the patron who suddenly pushed out from his barstool. Pain shot from my bicep to my wrist as I collided with the heavy wood and stumbled.
Crap. It was just my luck I’d fall flat on my face during my most important night ever.
Firm hands grasped my waist, steadying me. The touch sent an unexpected jolt of electricity through my body.
“Thank you—” I started, lifting my gaze to meet stormy blue eyes I’d know anywhere. “Killian?” My voice broke on his name, years of unspoken words crowding behind it.
“I think you need to watch where you’re going, Tink.” The old nickname he’d given me rolled off his tongue, and my heart squeezed painfully in my chest. Tinker Bell— because I’d always flitted from one task to another and given my full name, Trissabelle, he said it fit.
His hands still rested at the curve of my waist, the heat and strength of them radiating through the fabric of my dress. I found myself hyper-aware of every point of contact, my skin prickling with a dangerous mix of familiarity and longing.
Killian’s eyes didn’t waver as I took in his changed appearance. The photos online and the interviews on television hadn’t captured the tiny details—the small scar above his eyebrow, the strong jawline, the flecks of gold in his irises, or the strength of his touch that spoke of working out.
Gone was the boy I remembered. In his place was a man who exuded confidence, sexual appeal, and barely-contained intensity. His longish, curly jet black hair fell across his forehead, and I fought the overwhelming urge to push it back. My eyes widened as I recognized the desire to run my fingers over the scruff of his trimmed beard to see how it felt against my skin.
What was happening to me? Bewildered by this foreign train of thought—he wasn’t mine to touch—I struggled to find words.
My hands still gripped his broad shoulders, and I couldn’t help but notice the muscles, clearly defined under his form-fitting shirt. I leaned in as the urge to rest my head on his shoulder hit me. In all the years we’d known each other, he’d been my rock, my friend.
And the mixed-up feelings inside of me were confusing.
“Tris,” Peter’s sharp voice cut through the moment like a knife.
I gasped and tried to twist out of Killian’s grasp, panic rising in my throat.
Shit.
These two within five feet of each other was a powder keg waiting for a spark. “Hey, Peter. Guess who I ran into? It’s a funny thing. I tripped, and Killian?—”
“Was right here to catch her,” Killian interrupted, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly on my waist and his eyes locked on Peter’s. “Just like old times,” he said over the top of my head.
The air grew thick with tension as years of unresolved conflict hung between us. I was frozen, caught between my past and present, unsure of which way to turn.
“Well, I’m here now.” Peter’s narrowed gaze flicked between me and Killian. A muscle ticked in his cheek.
“Too little too late, Peter. Although, that’s nothing new with you.” Killian smirked.
I hated watching them fight. “And everything is?—”
Peter cut me off. “Fuck you, Killian. Trying to take what’s not yours. Typical.”
I waved my hand just above my head to get their attention, wishing I had a white handkerchief or something to indicate they needed to back down. Call a truce. At least if they were focused on me, I could distract them.
But it was like I wasn’t even here.
“Let her go, Killian.” Peter’s frown and menacing tone were the opposite of what I was used to hearing.
A growl left Killian’s mouth. “Make me.”
Killian’s touch still burned my skin, awakening surprising feelings I didn’t know what to do with. Yet Peter’s presence was a reminder of the life I’d chosen.
Being with Killian and Peter was as natural as breathing. The three of us together felt right. Even with the two of them arguing.
I still held this deep-seated belief we were always meant to be in each other’s lives. I swallowed hard, my throat tight, as I wondered, what if? What if I’d made a different choice or found a way to keep my friendship with Killian?
The two men glared at each other. God, it was like being caught between two crowing roosters trying to gain dominance.
“Um, hello, you Neanderthals. I’m right here.”
Killian’s hand shifted to my elbow. With him distracted, I was able to slip out of his grasp. I pointed at the two of them with one hand and rested my other hand on my hip. “Enough.”
Peter blinked a few times, his easygoing smile reappearing on his face. “Our table’s ready.”
Killian’s hard gaze shifted from me to Peter, yet he didn’t say a word. His jaw tightened, and his eyes flashed with an emotion I couldn’t quite catch.
“It was really nice to see you, Killian, but we should probably get to our table,” I said, wanting to say more, but not knowing what. It was almost amusing how we each slid into the roles we last played with each other with me trying to keep the peace between them. I reached out to touch his arm for one final pat, a hug? I had no idea.
I didn’t miss how Peter tugged me far enough away to make that impossible. Knowing how awkward I probably looked, I slid my outstretched arm around Peter’s waist, recognizing my mistake within seconds.
“I see nothing has changed.” Killian grabbed his glass off the bar top and gulped the remaining liquid.
Pain burst in my chest. His words were like an arrow through my heart. I swallowed and sent him a tight smile to mask the hurt his words caused. I wanted nothing more than for us all to be friends and to know why we’d drifted apart.
Peter had never seemed to question why Killian distanced himself from us. I wondered if part of him assumed the rift between us wouldn’t be permanent, and that’s why he didn’t push to make things right. But Killian had cut us both off without a word.
Peter guided me toward our table, chatting about how his conversation with the band had gone the entire time. He acted like the interaction with our childhood friend had never happened. As he pulled out my seat, I couldn’t help but glance over at the bar. Killian now had his back to us.
It wasn’t just my heart that ached at his rejection. My whole body hurt.
Peter continued to monopolize the conversation, and I nodded in response, but my mind was elsewhere. He used his charm as a shield, his way of navigating the world—good and bad. I used to admire it, but now I wondered—when was the last time I’d seen the real Peter, vulnerable and unguarded?
“Trissa. Hey Tris.”
I shook my head and focused on Peter. “I’m so sorry. What were you saying?”
“Killian shouldn’t have bothered you.” He cupped my hands within his and tugged them closer to him.
“He didn’t. It was a surprise to talk to him after all this time.”
“So you two never… ”
My head reared back in surprise. “No, he never reached out to me after you signed with Umbria.”
He shrugged, a faint pout on his full lips. “I’ll never understand him. He acts like I didn’t try to help him.”
I sighed. “Peter, I think you and Killian both view what happened differently.”
Peter had a mental block when he looked back on our friendship. He’d shared with me how Killian had been upset when Peter was sought out by Umbria Recording and offered a lucrative contract. Umbria had eventually offered a contract to Killian, but he refused it.
I wasn’t sure if it had to do with a bruised ego with Peter being offered a deal first, if Peter was willing to go off on his own without Killian, or if it was the details of the deal itself. And while I understood how that would upset him, it couldn’t possibly be Peter’s fault. Peter had worked just as hard as Killian had. And I was of the firm belief we should all be happy for each of our successes. That’s what friends did.
“It’s not my fault I got scouted and he didn’t.” Peter scowled.
“I get it. As your friend, he should’ve been happy for you, but can we not get into this right now?” All my hopes about our romantic dinner were quickly going down the toilet.
“You’re right. Tonight is about you, my sweet Trissa.” He lifted my hand and kissed the top of my knuckles.
A warmth stole through my chest. “Oh, is it?” I said, hoping my breathlessness sounded sexy.
“Yes, and I?—”
“Can I get either of you something to drink, Mr. Young?”
Oh my God. Seriously? We were just getting to the good part, and she had to interrupt us now ?
Peter laid our entwined hands on the table and smiled at the waitress. “Absolutely. We’re here tonight to celebrate. What would you recommend?”
Clearly, our server had been briefed before she arrived at our table. She rattled off what I was sure were their most expensive labels.
“We’ll have the 2001 Chateau Pétrus. You prefer red, right Tris?” His thumb rubbed the sensitive skin on the back of my hand, the spot that had me swooning, before he let go.
Peter’s attention was usually like the sun parting through the clouds on a gloomy afternoon. It had the power to fill me with warmth from the inside out.
Yet today, it was a gentle buzz against my skin instead of the rolling force it usually was. My gaze flicked to the man at the bar, and an uneasy feeling churned in my stomach.
What’s wrong with me? I’d been waiting for this moment for forever , and now that I might have it, my body was betraying me.
I quickly dashed away the unbidden thought of my strange physical reaction to Killian.
Peter cleared his throat, and I realized I hadn’t responded. I wasn’t a big fan of red wine. It often gave me a headache, but instead of correcting him, I smiled. Tonight needed to be perfect. “Of course.”
Once we were alone, the conversation flowed. Over the years, I’d never run out of things to talk to Peter about. Although, I had noticed we gravitated toward talking about Peter and what he was up to versus what was going on in my life. To be fair, I didn’t have much going on. Handling Peter had become more than a full-time job. And with us returning to Rhode Island, I had no nearby friends to hang out with. When I lived here growing up, Killian and Peter were my best friends.
The waitress brought the wine, and Peter tasted it. He took a small sip, letting it sit in his mouth for a minute before swallowing and nodding. I giggled as she poured us both a glass. Maybe it was seeing Killian, but watching Peter taste expensive wine made me think about our shared past.
“What brought that on?” Peter asked once the waitress took our order and left.
I shrugged. “Just thinking about how far we’ve come.”
Peter’s eyes lit up, and the trademark mischievous grin lit his face. “Boone’s Farm.”
With those two words, I knew he was remembering those times, too. “Remember we used to dream about nights like this? Fancy restaurants, expensive wine… ”
I held my hand out for him to take. “We’ve come a long way from stolen Boone’s behind the garage. Sometimes I miss the simplicity of those days. Don’t you?”
Peter paused. “Those weren’t simple days, Tris. They were survival.”
“Maybe. But we had each other. All three of us. I wouldn’t have made it without the two of you.”
Peter frowned at my mention of Killian but didn’t hesitate to hold my hand again. “I wouldn’t have made it without you and your eternal optimism. My life was a shitshow. Your friendship helped get me on the straight and narrow.”
I nodded. We had helped each other through the darkest times in our lives.
Our food arrived, breaking the little bubble we’d been in.
Tonight meant more to me than Peter knew, even more than the possibility that he might see a romantic future for us. Over the past few years, our alone time had gotten less and less.
I missed him.
I missed us.
Peter took a bite of his filet mignon. “I think Jareth will be impressed by the interview today.”
“It did go well.” I watched the recording when I got back to my apartment.
It still amazed me that Peter was practically comatose and yet could charm the socks off the hosts as he did. He’d always had that ability, even when we were young. It allowed him to get away with most things that others couldn’t. All he had to do was toss his disarming smile at someone or pay a pretty compliment, and he could usually make people forget what he’d just done.
Killian was the only one who was immune. Even as much as I tried to stay objective, it was far too easy for me to fall under Peter’s spell.
Usually.
I couldn’t stop myself. While I half-listened to Peter, I checked the bar area to see if Killian was still there.
His seat was empty.
The unoccupied barstool left an ache in my chest. Part of me was relieved Killian had gone, sparing us further awkwardness. But another part—a part I was scared to acknowledge—wished he’d stayed.
“You okay, Tris?” Peter asked, his eyes narrowed in concern. “You’re quieter than usual.”
“Just… thinking about the past.”
Peter frowned. “Good memories, I hope.”
“Some good, some… complicated.” I sipped my wine, trying to make sense of all the conflicting thoughts running through my mind. I quickly swallowed, trying not to grimace at the taste.
He nodded. “I get that. Our past is part of us like you’re a part of me.”
I gave him a trembling smile, loving that he understood and felt like I did about him. “I’ve missed spending time like this with you.”
“Me too. You’re good for my soul, songbird.”
My hand twitched against the table at his old nickname for me. I’m sure he just forgot how much I freaking hated birds. I didn’t mind gently reminding him, “Peter?—”
“I got something for you,” Peter burst out, his excitement written all over his face.
“You did?” I’d address the bird thing with him later.
“I did.” He reached into his suit jacket pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.
It was too small to be a necklace or bracelet. My heart jackhammered in my chest. Logically, I knew it would not be an engagement ring or any kind of ring, but my heart fluttered at the thought, even as unlikely as it was.
Peter handed it to me, an eager expression on his face. “The minute I saw it, I knew I had to get it for you.”
With shaking hands, I gently took it from him. My breath caught in my throat as I pried open the lid.
“It’s so you, isn’t it?”
I struggled to push words past my tightened lips. “It’s… ” I tried again. “It’s a bird pin.”
“A brooch,” he corrected me.
My limbs froze to the seat, eyes locked on the garish colors, the sharp, pointy beak, and the widespread wings that made it seem like it was about to take flight.
Peter continued. “I thought it was perfect—with me calling you ‘Songbird’ and your last name being Byrd.”
“Peter,” I whispered.
“You love it.” His smile stretched across his face. “I knew you would.”
“I … oh … Thank you.” I darted a quick glance at him. He looked so pleased.
My chest grew tight and pain jabbed at my throat as I attempted to swallow. Guilt held me immobile in its grasp. He’d tried so hard to be thoughtful and I hated his gift, but I could never let him know that.
“Tris?”
I fully lifted my gaze to him and forced a smile to my face. “I love it.”
“You’re my girl, Tris. Anything for you.”
Carefully, I tugged the top of the box back down and placed the brooch into my purse.
This was my first chance in a long time to get Peter to see me as more than his old childhood friend and assistant. Today, I hoped he’d start seeing me as a woman. One that had dreamed of a happily-ever-after with him for as long as we’d known each other.
And really, if we were going to spend our lives together, then this was just a blip of time. Something we’d laugh about later.