“Thank goodness we’re done filming this week. I can focus without Gina flaunting her showmance in my face.”
“I really wish we could get rid of her.”
Elle jerked her head back in shock. She didn’t realize Rob shared her feelings of disgust when it came to their leading lady.
“Oh, c’mon,” he continued. “We both know she’s a shit.”
Elle sat up straight in her chair. “I have a newfound respect for you.”
“Listen, I have to go. Get those creative juices flowing. Get Whitney in here, she’ll help you.”
“Uh,” Elle fumbled. “We’re not in the best place.”
“Oh, good Lord. I could never be a woman. I swear, there’s always something.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Rob stood and walked to the door, turning once his hand was on the knob. “And Elle?”
“Yeah.”
“Congratulations. I’m really proud of you.”
“Thanks, Rob. That means a lot to me, seriously.”
Rob gave her a quick wave before leaving her alone with her chaotic thoughts. She wanted to call Whitney . . . and Luke. But even though she reached for her phone, she placed it down on her desk, swarmed with conflicting thoughts. She and Luke hadn’t spoken in a personal manner since she threatened to call the police and tabloids. And Whitney was MIA ever since their uncomfortable evening at the French bistro. She knew they would both be excited for her, but her feelings of excitement were overshadowed by the awkward state of each relationship. So instead she focused on what she could: the work. She needed three ideas.
A new show.
A new show.
A new show.
She was drawing a blank.
Whenever Elle was stuck, she did one of two things. First, she called Whitney for a brainstorm session over candy and/or cocktails. And if, like today, that wasn’t an option, she retrieved her journal from the bottom drawer of her desk. Below her candy stash, a simple leather-bound book with a painted picture of an old-school typewriter and her initials sat for moments like this. She pulled the journal from her drawer, dusted off the cover, and scanned through her book ideas—ideas from long ago when she was starting her writing career.
When she opened the journal to the first page, her phone pinged with a text.
Elle glanced down at her phone. She couldn’t take her eyes off the brief message from Troy. A proper response eluded her, and yet she knew it was necessary to respond sooner rather than later.
Are you avoiding me?
She and Troy hadn’t spoken since their date at MacArthur Park two weeks earlier. Was she avoiding him? Not intentionally. Work was hectic, her relationship with Luke was at an impasse, and Gina was a royal pain in her ass. Not to mention she and Whitney were barely speaking. She was a mess, and adding Troy into the mix was an overwhelming thought. And, if she was being honest with herself, discovering that Amanda was Payton’s mother was not helping things for her. Not at all.
No. Just really busy.
She stared at the screen, not wanting to be too dismissive in her reply. She wanted to see Troy. She wanted to spend more time with him—she was just lost. Truly lost, and she knew she had no idea what she wanted. It didn’t seem fair to drag him into those mixed emotions, knowing he had mixed feelings of his own.
Did I just get the brush-off?
Never one to shy away from a confrontation, Troy was calling her out as usual.
Of course not. Dinner tonight?
The next reply came back so quickly she didn’t even have time to place the phone back on her desk. The quick ping of her cell made her lips curl into a smile. Troy was eager to see her, eager to communicate. She liked that.
That can be arranged. 7:00? Chinese?
Elle pinched her lips together, remembering she needed to work on the pitch. This was too important to postpone. Her schedule the following day was packed with meetings, one in particular with the network stylist who was dressing everyone for the Globes. The show was in just two short weeks and everyone needed his or her attire. Arranging for sample gowns and tuxedos would take some time, and it was time to begin the process.
I just realized I need to work late. Any chance you can come here?
Elle clenched her teeth, worried Troy would again feel brushed off. When her cell pinged quickly, she breathed a sigh of relief.
I’ll bring food. Kung pao still your favorite?
Elle smiled, flattered he remembered.
With fried rice, please!
You got it. See you in a couple hours.
Elle settled in, opened her notebook, and dove into her ideas of the past, hoping to find something for her future.
Elle smelled the delicious aroma of the food before she saw her dinner date. Troy knocked on her office door before entering. Elle was taken aback at how handsome he looked after a long day in a hot pizza kitchen. As usual, he was wearing a polo shirt from the restaurant with khaki pants and sunglasses. There was something sexy in Troy’s simplicity. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. But his olive skin had deepened into a sumptuous tan, while natural highlights permeated his dark hair. When he removed his sunglasses, Elle peered into the gorgeous eyes she had missed for so long. When he saw her, he grinned, a dimple forming in his cheek.
Elle walked around the desk to greet him with a hug. He pulled her tight, wrapping his strong arms around her. Elle wasn’t short. In fact, being five feet ten, she was much taller than most of the women at the network. But Troy towered over her at six feet four, and she enjoyed the safety of his hugs. She loved that the top of her head nestled into his neck. She smelled oregano as he pulled her close. She was convinced Troy was the only man who could make Italian spices smell sexy.
“I’ve missed you,” she murmured into his chest, and she felt his arms pull her in just a bit tighter. It was a silent message received with no distortion. He missed her too. “I’m sorry you had to come down here, but I do have exciting news.”
Troy pulled back, locking eyes with Elle. “Oh yeah? Tell me.”
“Have a seat and I’ll fill you in.”
Elle walked to her desk chair and sat. Troy sat down as well, a warm smile on his face. Elle’s stomach fluttered as she revealed her exciting news. “The network wants me to create another show. They’d air back-to-back starting next fall. It’s an extraordinary opportunity.”
“Wow. That’s incredible, Rigby. What’s the show about?”
“That’s the problem. I have no idea. They need three ideas . . . by Friday.”
“Whoa, that’s . . . well, that’s not much time, is it?” Troy grimaced. “Now I see why you couldn’t go out.”
“Exactly.”
“Can I help? I mean, I know I’m not a creative type, but it could be fun.”
“Yes.” Elle nodded, blowing out a long breath and smiling. “That would be awesome, thank you.”
Troy leaned forward, lifting the white cartons of food from the brown paper sack. “First, you need sustenance. Full bellies lead to productive minds.”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“That’s a Saladino original. It’s how my mom got my sister to eat.”
“I like it.”
He shrugged, looking sheepish. “I’m glad.”
Elle narrowed her eyes as she watched Troy open the steaming cartons of food. This Troy was softer, more approachable and less confrontational than the Troy she spent time with only weeks ago. Perhaps her absence made his heart grow fonder? Time would tell on that. Regardless, she was enjoying their time together already and was so glad he contacted her.