“I know!” In all the mania of the last day, I’d completely forgotten. “And that’s not the maddest thing.” I told him what I’d witnessed between Ralf and Vivian.
“Okay, first of all, quite possibly the grossest thing I’ve heard in a long time.” Elliot shuddered theatrically. “I could have happily lived a lifetime without knowing any of this.”
“But what is he up to?” I mused. “They have some kind of scheme going on and clearly him quitting was part of it.”
“Lucie.” Elliot fixed me with a serious stare, but his mouth was quirking. “Ralf is a doer, okay? Not a dreamer.”
“I mean, yeah, he’s doing Vivian,” I shot back, and Elliot erupted into laughter.
“Look, I really don’t want to spend this weekend talking about that guy,” Elliot said, pushing our plates to one side.
“Oh no?” My heart thudded as he tugged my stool towards him.
“No.” His hand worked the buttons of my shirt so it loosened around my shoulders. “I have other plans for us.”
“Are you going to call me a good girl again?” I was begging, but I didn’t care.
He pulled me onto his lap, already hard. “Just you wait.”
We spent the rest of the weekend in his bed, venturing out late Sunday to find food as his cupboards were bare. After greasy yet satisfying tacos from a hole-in-the-wall by Washington Market Park, we took a roundabout route back to his apartment via Little Italy, where we feasted on cannoli. Elliot pointed out his favorite spots: a raucous pool hall that served the best in Japanese whiskies, an art-deco cinema run by a friend of his, and a tiny art gallery that specialized in experimental photography.
“There’s an introspective exhibition at the gallery coming up next month,” he said. “It sounds awesome – candid photos taken by of one of Hollywood’s busiest extras. We should—” He stopped, shook his head.
Regret burned a hole in my heart. Elliot had just been about to invite me to the exhibition, one that would only start after I’d left the country. “I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be.”
“If I could stay, I would.”
“I know.” He brushed my knuckles with his lips, eyes sadly gazing into mine. “And I know why. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
Chapter Thirty
Monday morning, Elliot went straight to theWoodstockset, so I made my way to RJF. I was raw with nerves. Today, the script would be sent to the studio execs ahead of the pitch tomorrow; soon I would learn if the movie would make it to the big screen. I’d have a scriptwriter credit to my name and perhaps, finally, I could see serious change in my career.
I went to the writers’ room and opened my laptop, determined to work on more financing solutions for Sadie. As it booted up, I glanced across at the seat opposite me, where Elliot used to sit. The room seemed horribly empty without him. I tapped away disconsolately, trying hard not to think about what life held beyond leaving New York. I had Bex to think of, as well as career plans beyond Temper. And as for Elliot, well, betweenWoodstockand his potential second unit gig coming up, he had a busy year ahead. It was clear that trying to develop whatever this was between us into something more would present a huge challenge whether I remained in New York or whether we lived oceans apart. I could bury my head in the sand as much as I wanted, but the fact remained I had to say goodbye to him at the end of the week. Practical or not, it fucking sucked.
Moments after I’d sent Sadie my financing research, Michelle poked her head around the door. “Lucie, do you— Oh! What’s up?”
“Nothing!” I said quickly. “Why?”
“You look like you lost a dollar and found a cent. Oh fuck, Elliot.” She slapped her forehead in ad’ohgesture. “You guys hooked up?”
“How do you even know?” I yelped. “Do I have a Post-it on my forehead?”
“Nah,” she said gently. “I just have a sixth sense about these things.”
“That’s a weird superpower.”
“Totally.” She rolled her eyes. “Like, invisibility or flying would be way preferable.”
I was really going to miss Michelle. “Don’t tell anybody.”
“As if,” she reassured me, taking a seat next to me. “So. You’re having a crisis about leaving him.”
“Yes and no,” I said. “Like, my head says this is the right thing to do. I’m going home, I’m doing what’s right for my best friend.”
“And your heart?” Michelle asked softly.
