“I suppose you’re right.” She shrugged. “I guess it’s time to hang up my Team Luke shirt, huh?”
A weak laugh left Elle’s lips as her eyes welled with tears. “Yeah, I think so. I’m sure he’ll miss having you as president of the fan club.”
As if on cue, Elle’s phone pinged, and she raised her eyebrows for permission to leave the conversation. Whitney nodded and retreated to the dressing room as Elle checked her phone.
It was a text from Troy.
Can’t stop thinking about you.
She smiled. Knowing she was on his mind was a comforting thought. One she cherished and appreciated. She pressed the phone to her chest just as Whitney emerged from the dressing room and handed the gown to Eve.
“Vegas?”
Elle nodded. “We’ve seen each other a couple of times since everything went down with Luke. It’s been nice.”
“Have you slept with him yet?” Whitney pressed.
Elle cringed at the question and shook her head. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Eve scurried across the room, busying herself with the hanging dresses. Obviously Whitney’s frank nature was making her uncomfortable and Elle couldn’t blame her. Elle was part of the conversation and her discomfort was through the roof.
“Not yet.”
“How come?”
“We’re taking things slow—figuring out what we want.”
Whitney narrowed her eyes.
“What?”
“Well, I mean . . . what are you waiting for? Ten years of tension—you two must be going out of your minds.”
Elle was shocked to realize she didn’t feel that way at all. “It was like that in the beginning,” she said, remembering the evening he pressed her against the brick of the Indian restaurant. “But not anymore. We’re just being patient with each other.”
“I see.” Whitney’s lips pressed into a thin line. Elle could read her mind easily. She wasn’t buying it. But instead of getting defensive, Elle shared something she thought Whitney would appreciate.
“You’ll meet him at the Globes.”
Instead of an excited smile, her best friend glared at her. “Wait. You’re bringing him?”
“Well, yeah.”
“To the Globes?”
“Yes, Whitney. I’m bringing Troy as my date to the Globes.”
“But Luke will be sitting at the same table. Don’t you think that’s a little cruel?”
Elle crossed her arms, tilting her chin toward the ceiling. “He broke my heart. Don’t you think that’s a little cruel?”
“Oh my God . . . you’re trying to hurt him, aren’t you? You’re trying to make him jealous.” Whitney’s eyes widened, but instead of anger, she appeared proud of Elle. “You little tart! This is brilliant.”
“No, you don’t understand, I’m not trying to do anything to Luke. I just want Troy to come with me, to experience the Globes.”
“Uh-huh.” Whitney pursed her lips, then winked. “I understand completely. And just for the record, I’d do the exact same thing if I were in your shoes. If I could find a date to piss off Nolan, I totally would. But I’m afraid that’s not in the cards. Mind if I borrow Luke?”
Elle glared at Whitney.
“Kidding, kidding!”
Elle knew there was no sense in arguing with Whitney over her intentions in inviting Troy to the award show. And if she was being honest with herself, there was a part of her that would delight in making Luke regret his decision to walk away from her. She didn’t want to use Troy, or exact revenge. Her feelings for him were genuine, and she would never hurt him intentionally. But the hole Luke left was significant and the idea of regaining the upper hand in that scenario was too enticing to reject.
She could only hope sitting at a table with Luke, Troy, Gina, Whitney, and Nolan would not be the most uncomfortable four hours of her life. But somehow, she knew it would be exactly that.
Luke sat in the limousine, his hands trembling as he gazed out at the mob of photographers surrounding the red carpet of the Golden Globes at The Beverly Hilton. The normally laid-back actor had dreamed of this moment for most of his life. He was a successful actor on the hottest drama on television, arriving at his very first award show. His hands should have been trembling with excitement and nervous energy over this monumental event in his professional life.
But that wasn’t the source of his trembling hands. Instead, all he could think about was Elle. Gorgeous, headstrong, stubborn Elle. Three weeks prior, his temper allowed her to slip through his fingers. And tonight he would see her in some gorgeous dress, looking as hot as humanly possible, and he would want to take her hand in his, sit together at the table, drink wine, laugh, and celebrate the success of the show. And when the curtain closed and they retreated to the after-party at the estate of the president of the network, they’d lounge together on a couch near the pool, drinking champagne and toasting the awards received that evening. Elle would make a comment about how next year, Luke would be holding a statue of his own. They’d retreat to his home, where they’d cap off the evening with a late-night swim in the ocean and cuddling in his hammock.
But that wasn’t going to happen.
None of it.
Instead, he was mentally preparing for an evening of uncomfortable glances and stifled conversation during the agonizing four-hour taping of the award show. If he was lucky, Elle would sit beside him and they would get past their fight and petty miscommunication. Elle would see Gina was crazy, that he never cooperated with her on any of her crazy schemes, and that his love for her was truer than anything else in his life. He loved her. And he’d never loved anyone before. Not like this.
And right then, he made the decision to win her back, to apologize for walking away. She was right—he told her she was worth waiting for and yet he abruptly stopped waiting. Well, not anymore. He would stand by her side and convince her they belonged together, even if it took all night.
Just as his newly confident self grabbed the handle of the limousine door, a swarm of photographers surrounded his vehicle, as if somehow they knew he was about to emerge. With confidence, he stepped from the limousine, doing his best not to flinch from the combination of the afternoon sun and the flashing bulbs of cameras. He raised his arm to give them a welcoming, friendly wave, just as Rob had coached him. A representative for the network wearing a brightly colored badge stood near a woman with a microphone, and he mentally prepared for a quick red carpet interview. He joined the two women, plastering to his face the most charming smile he could muster.
It was rather painless. The interviewer quickly asked him two basic questions about what it felt like to be a part of the show and to watch his costars be nominated for such prestigious awards. He could hear the cameras flashing all around him as he answered honestly. It was a tremendous honor for him to be a part of this evening, and a part of the show. He was looking forward to many more award shows to come.
“Great, thanks. We got it.” The interviewer raised her arm and gestured for him to continue on his way. The network rep gave him a quick thumbs-up, and Luke walked to the next interviewer to repeat the process, with the rep following close behind.
After six or seven (he’d lost count) short interviews on the carpet, Luke was feeling confident in the process. He knew how to handle anything they could throw at him. That is, until a pesky host from the E! network shoved a microphone in his face.
“Luke Kingston,” she said, waving her arms wildly as she approached. “We cannot even tell you how long we’ve been dying to talk to you,” she bellowed, her eyes seeming to bulge from their sockets. Luke resisted the urge to cringe at her overly assertive nature and brash speaking voice.