walked into his restaurant, who knows how long that absence would have continued? Whitney didn’t trust him, but Elle felt she was simply showing her preference for Luke.
“Wearing your Team Luke shirt this early in the morning, huh?” Elle teased.
“You better believe it. Speaking of that sexy man, how does he feel about this date with your ex-husband?”
Elle sat up in her bed, wiping the sleep from her eyes. “He’s fine with it. In fact, he’s been so great about this whole thing—so patient.”
“Just don’t push it. He’s still a man.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Elle grimaced. She didn’t want to think about Luke growing tired of her or walking away from what they were building. The idea sent uncomfortable adrenaline into her empty belly.
“Men don’t share. He’s crazy about you and I know that’s the only reason he’s putting up with all of this.”
“I can’t help it, Whit. I have to know if something’s still there after all this time.”
“I know, I get it—closure, unfinished business, yada yada yada. Just . . . be careful, okay? I don’t want you to lose out on Kingston. I have a good feeling about him.”
If only things were that simple. She wished she could echo Whitney’s sentiment, but something in the pit of her stomach said the opposite. She knew the Hollywood bug had bitten him slightly, and she was hesitant to relax completely, not knowing what could be thrown their way. No matter her intense feelings toward the actor, her guard was still up, keeping him at a slight distance. Whitney made her wonder if, even without the complication of Troy, that distance could be their undoing. She pushed that thought down in her subconscious and quickly changed the subject.
“Speaking of good feelings, I keep meaning to ask you about last Wednesday.”
“What about it?” Whitney’s voice was unexpectedly sharp, defensive, very un-Whitney.
“Um”—Elle paused—“nothing, I just . . . it sounded like you were having a good time in your office and I . . .”
“Oh, that? That was nothing.”
Whitney was never one to hold back when it came to her dalliances. In fact, Whitney was never one to hold back in any aspect of her personal or professional life. Elle was taken aback, and unsure of what to say. So she let it go. If and when Whitney was ready to talk about it, Elle was confident she would. They said their awkward good-byes, and when they hung up, Elle turned on the television, hoping to catch the commentary from the anchors on the Today Show.
“A big day for Elle Riley and the cast of Follow the Sun, garnering three Golden Globe nominations,” the smiling male anchor with deep-set dimples said to his coanchor.
“I’m crazy about that show,” his coanchor said, her eyes wide. “The tension is insane.”
“My wife loves it too.” The handsome anchor smirked. “She takes complete control of the television every week. If I make a noise I’m in trouble.”
The female anchor laughed with exuberance. “Looks like it’s the one to beat.”
Elle sat on the edge of the bed, smiling from ear to ear. She could only hope their predictions were correct.
“What a perfect night for this.”
The sun had already set when they arrived at MacArthur Park. In his hands, Troy carried a steaming hot pizza fresh from the oven of Anthony’s Pub. Over her shoulder, Elle carried a tote bag with two bottles of merlot, a blanket, and everything else they needed for their dinner. At Troy’s suggestion, they arrived early. The cover band was gaining in popularity, and since all shows at Levitt Pavilion were free of charge, it would be a crowded Thursday evening. As they approached the pavilion, couples, families, and other large groups of people seemed to have the same idea. The show wouldn’t start for an hour, and it was already crowded. By the time the band took the stage, it would be packed.
“I think you’ll love these guys. They’ve been at it for years.”
“Kinda like that band in Chicago—I’m blanking on the name. Remember them? We saw them the summer after junior year. God, I can’t believe I can’t remember their name.”
“American English.”
Elle tapped Troy’s shoulder playfully. “Yes, that’s it. They were so good.”
“These guys are just as good. Although they don’t have the mop tops.”
Elle scrunched her nose. “I loved the mop tops—it made them authentic.”
“These guys have more of a Sergeant Pepper look.” He gestured to his chin. “Long hair, beards, goatees.”