“Well, there you go. Dinner and a show in the city. We can dress up. I’ll look online for tickets tonight. We might have to sit in the nosebleeds or way down front, depending on what I can find. But it’ll be fun.” He grins as he takes a final bite of his gyro. “Sound good?”
“Sounds great,” I say. “But, just so you know, this is great too.”
“Nah. You deserve better.” Another thing Scott would never have said to me. I feel heat rise into my cheeks.
“Exactly how dressed up is ‘dressed up’?” I ask.
“For you? I don’t know. A dress and boots? Or a shirt and nice pants with heels? Whatever makes you comfortable.”
“So,notassless pleather hot shorts?” I laugh.
Colin almost chokes on his water. His eyes bug out. He coughs twiceand then sputters. “Maybe after,” he says, wiping his mouth. “But cut me some slack. I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”
“I appreciate that.”
He coughs once more. “Just so you know, though, you don’t make it easy.”
I nod, hoping he can’t see the way my insides are lighting up.
Colin
Okay, maybe I haven’t been quite as forthcoming as I could havebeen. The publishing industry is like a rural town in the sticks. It’ssmall. And incestuous. Everybody knows everybody.
The other thing I know about publishing is that if a house is willing to put big money behind a book, that means there will be a budget for marketing. So, if Gracie is going to get a six-figure, two-book deal, then her house is going to put some real dollars behind her work to make sure it sells.
Which means there’s a higher likelihood that Elle might see it. In my mind, her reading this story—or even hearing about it as an aside in some staff meeting or whatever—would be the equivalent of me walking in on her sleeping with somebody else in our bed. The thought of her business being put on full display, knowing there’s not a chance in hell she’d sue for libel because she wouldneverlet the world know that she was such a scumbag in our marriage, is an unfortunate delight. It brings me great joy to consider her indignant scowl awash with the realization that her life could potentially be optioned for film.
Does that make me a horrible person?I wonder.
I ruminate on this for a moment.
Nah, I decide. Other guys would never speak to the girl again. Would have kicked her ass right to the curb. Not me though. I’m the sucker thatgave her a damn house so she could basically turn it into her own private wayward home for convicts.
I hate feeling this angry, but it almost doesn’t register, seeing as how I spent the afternoon with the only person I’ve ever met who can listen to stories about a crazy ex andnotopenly judge—a trait which is pushing me to fall even harder for Gracie. I was too caught up in the empathy in her eyes while she listened to me, the whiteness of her teeth when she smiled, the way she softly sang along with the radio under her breath during our natural quiet pauses. The joy in her laugh.
She’s a beautiful girl, but I think her laugh is the most beautiful thing about her.
It’s messing me up too. I’msupposedto be rebounding still, right? It’s only been six months since the whole debacle happened with Elle. There are atleastanother three Courtneys out there calling my name, right?
Of course, those girls are probably hanging out with Dom at the bar.
Shut up, I tell myself.
You have a date to plan.
Once I get home, I immediately get on the computer and search for Broadway shows with available seats for Saturday night. Almost everything is sold out, but I manage to score a pair of second-row tickets on resale forWicked. I pay through the nose for them, but I don’t care. I call in a favor with Alex Murphy, the manager at The Secret Garden in the theater district (I wrote his will)—I need a romantic table for two for tomorrow at five. He finds a way to move some reservations around and squeezes me in at 4:45, which I happily accept.
It’s going to be epic.
TO:Colin Yarmouth ([email protected])
FROM:Grace Landing ([email protected])
SUBJECT:Friday night
Hi!
Just wanted to thank you again for the delicious meal and for forcing me to come back home and work tonight. I got a lot done—enough to send a sample over to my agent to read. She’s been on my case about the deadline, and I really wanted to shoot something off to her before the weekend actually started. (I cut it a little close, but oh well!)
