I didn’t know what to say. “Sol, this is incredible.”
“No, what’s incredible is the offer I have for you,” Sol went on. “I want you to come and work for me as a development producer.”
I stared at her. “Are you for real?”
“Bitch, I don’t joke about business.” She giggled. “And before you say anything about lack of experience, blah blah blah, I don’t care. You got the goods, you’re qualified.”
“Sol …” My head was swimming. “Is this real? Because it feels like a dream.”
“Oh, it’s real.” She let her eyes drift around the office. “So. What’s your notice period on this place?”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
New York
THREE MONTHS LATER
The November morning was crisp, the air clear and bright. I sat at the High Line’s Twenty-Third Street viewpoint, watching New York come alive. Although it was not yet 7 a.m., many citizens of Manhattan were already up and at it, and I was seeing some familiar sights in the Chelsea apartments surrounding me. There was the man cleaning his mirror yet again with that same frantic fastidiousness and the mother was out on her balcony again, this time with a chubby toddler yelling at the sky.
I could barely sit still, I was so excited. In fact, I fidgeted so much I nearly spilled the elaborate caramel syrup iced coffee from Have a Java balancing on my lap.It had been over seven months since I’d broken into the High Line wearing a fabulous designer dress and told Elliot I was his forever. In that time, he’d already made a name for himself as an exciting indie director in LA, and I’d spent the last three months as a New Yorker, helping Sadie Styler – yes, Sadie, formerly of RJF – run Whisper’s development slate. Sadie was still as formidable as ever, but also the perfect mentor. Firm, fair andwickedly fun, I’d learned more at her feet than I could ever have hoped.
My watch alarm beeped; it was 7 a.m. and I couldn’t sit still any longer, so I ventured out onto the High Line walkway. A steady trickle of commuters and joggers were already making their way up and down the path and I had to stand to one side to let them pass. My stomach was a bundle of nerves. I’d taken extra care with my outfit; Sol’s appreciation for fashion had rubbed off on me and when she’d learned about my plans for today, she’d frogmarched me to Bergdorf’s and bought me a stunning yet simple black dress from a Scandinavian designer she had modeled for quite recently. Although it wasn’t the sort of thing I would normally have purchased for everyday wear, I knew it was right for the occasion. It was casual but also sexy, sliding off one shoulder and nipping in at the waist.
I looked up and down the High Line impatiently, my body aching for that first sight of him. Suddenly, a gang of sweatsuit-clad power-walkers started stomping towards me, taking over the whole breadth of the path and I was forced to retreat out of their way. It felt like there were hundreds of them, moving as one homogenous blob, completely obscuring my view. But then, like a sea, they parted, and suddenly there Elliot was, travel bag slung over his shoulder and marching towards me, oblivious to the admiring stares of the power-walkers. He seemed taller somehow, if that was possible – his hair and skin sun-kissed, drawing glances from every red-blooded woman lucky enough to be on the High Line at this time.
Coffee be damned, I was running; I couldn’t wait a second longer to be in his arms. He ran too, throwing his bag to the floor – much to the surprise of the straggling power-walker who nearly tripped over it – and then he was scooping me up in his arms, mouth seeking mine. Elliot’s kiss was like waterafter literal months of thirst, his lips smiling against mine. I’d said we were forever, and this kiss told me I was right.
Finally he pulled away, but not too far. He just held me tight, gazing into my eyes as if he couldn’t believe I was here. “Hi.”
“Hi.” I could barely get the word out. He looked so delicious, somine. I held up his drink. “Caramel syrup?”
He laughed heartily. “You remembered my order.” He swiped the cup from me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders to pull me in for another kiss.
“How could I forget?”
“Hey.” He cupped my face with his free hand. “What we talked about when we were last here. Are you … ? I mean, did you mean it? Are you ready?”
“I’m more than ready,” I said. “In fact, I’m here to offer you a job.”
He frowned. “What?”
“Whisper Productions has the green light to produce a movie adaptation ofTwin Roses,” I announced proudly. “And you are looking at one of the exec production team.”
“Are you … ?” His eyes bulged. “Are you fucking serious?” He placed his coffee on a nearby planter and scooped me up in another hug. “Lucie, you did it!”
“But that’s not the best part,” I said, batting him on the shoulder to lower me.
“It’s not?”
“We need a writer-director to come on board,” I said. “Someone with real talent and edge. Someone who can bring this story into the modern world but retain that … magical quality of a classic romance. Know anyone?”
“You … ?” He gestured to himself. “You want me?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
He let out a big exhale. “A movie. You want me to direct your movie.”
“That too,” I said with a grin.
