The Difference

Chapter 22

Ava and I work the rest of the day with the boys nowhere to be found. Around 8:00 we are packing up our things, getting ready to leave, when Mrs. Marigold walks down the stairs with Brad and Troy trailing behind her. Troy's eyes meet mine and he gives me a half smile but I can tell something is wrong. Mrs. Marigold approaches us and talks across me, as if I'm not there. She does this a lot, so I'm not too offended. Troy pulls me aside as the two begin to discuss the guest list.

"Can we get out of here?" He asks, pulling my hand, leading me outside of the ballroom. I'm confused when I notice he has a backpack in his hand.

"Woah woah woah, slow down. What's wrong?"

"I-I just can't-t-" he says as if he is about to cry. I pull him in. "Shh, it's okay," I say rubbing his back as he hugs me. 

I let go after a few moments. "I'm going to grab my purse and I'll be right back, okay?" I say. As I open the ballroom door, Mrs. Marigold exits in pursuit of Troy. I grab my purse and help Ava with her pile of things. Brad is coming with us as well, I presume, as he follows us. We set out to leave and interrupt Troy and Mrs. Marigold on the way. 

"Don't do this," Mrs. Marigold pleads. Troy responds, "You leave me no choice," as he begins to walk away. I sigh and walk past Mrs. Marigold. She grabs my arm, startling me, and says so loudly everyone can hear, "This is all your fault."

I roll my eyes as Ava looks to Brad for some kind of explanation. Brad shrugs and Ava says to lighten the mood, "This place has more drama than the Bachelor Mansion."

The car ride back to our apartment is quiet. I put on the radio and focus on the road in front of me. I don't speak and neither does Troy. He reaches for my hand and I give it to him. We let go as we get out. 

I realize Troy has never been to the apartment before as his eyes move quickly trying to take it all in. Ava and Brad invite us to watch a movie in the living room with them. I look at Troy giving me a pleading gaze and can tell he just wants to be alone, so I politely decline. He discovers my room must be the one with the light pink walls and walks in without warning. I grab a bottle of champagne from the cupboard which must be one of the few left from Ava's graduation party and give them a polite wave as I close my bedroom door. I smile as Troy is in the corner in a new pair of clothes. He begins to fold his other outfit as he notices the alcohol and reaches a hand out for it. I hand it to him and he takes a graceful sip before setting it on my dresser. 

"I love your room," he says, picking up a framed photo of Ava and I from the summertime. We are sitting on the beach, drinks in hand, laughing because we didn't know yet how badly sunburned we'd be the next day. He sees the photo of Eric and I with our ice cream and I can't make out the look on his face. "You know, Rosemary, I envy you," he says, hanging onto the dainty cream colored frame. 

"And why is that?" I question.

"You get to have a normal life with the ability to make your own choices. It's amazing."

I sigh, sitting at the edge of my unmade bed. Troy joins me. "How bad is it?" I question.

"It's not that bad," he lies through his teeth.

"You don't get a choice though," I remind him.

"Well, I think everyone has a choice," he says plainly. He stands up and puts the frame down. "I either take the throne and make my family happy or I refuse to, they all hate me, and I have nowhere to live, no job, and then I'm forced to move in here with you and your pink sheets," he teases.

"What's wrong with my pink sheets?"

He laughs before he kisses me so passionately I get concerned. I want to ask why but he speaks up.

"I want you to come with me."

"Come with you?" I question.

"To Ceralita!"

"I'm sure your Grandma would love that," I joke.

"Maybe she would just have to live with it."

"Yeah?" I say, laughing.

"Who is she to tell me who can and cannot be my queen?"

I pause. "What does she think of Isabel?"

He sighs and shakes his head. "She loves her, of course. Her family is wealthy and her ancestors used to rule in Rome somewhere apparently, so.." he trails off.

"Ah," I say, nodding. I get up and search for pajamas. I decide on a satin nightgown. I slip it on as Troy talks to me.

"We could work out the details, of course. You can continue to take classes, you'll just have to do them online. I could get your car overseas, your family could come visit. My mom would come around to the idea of you being the next queen, I'm sure. She really loves you. Grandma on the other hand-"

"Do you think your mom would be okay with you just not doing it?" I chime in. 

He ponders for a moment. "I think eventually she would forgive me, but not Grandma. The throne would go to Dad's best friend's family line, The Tailor's. I think that was my Dad's original plan, until Grandma got involved."

I let out a yawn and Troy does too. "Oh, are you tired?" He says, grabbing my hands. He begins to twirl me around as if he's doing a waltz with an imaginary expert partner. I try to keep up but I stumble and we both laugh whenever I mess up. "Time for your big lift," he says, grabbing my waist and lifting me up, causing me to hunch over and grab his back for support. He tosses me into bed and we are both out of breath from laughing. He shuts off the lights and we begin to fall asleep. I'm certain I'm out cold but his whisper wakes me up.

"Rosemary," he pleads.

"Hm?" I question, not opening my eyes.

"Say you'll think about it," he whispers, running a hand along my face.

"Think about it," I repeat, still breathing deeply.

"About coming with me."

I pause. "Okay."

"Okay?" He whispers excitedly. 

"I'll think about it."

"I love you," he whispers. 

"I love you," I whisper back.