Chapter Thirty-Seven
New York
THREE MONTHS LATER
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 and wickedly fun, I’d learned more at her feet than I could ever have hoped.
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 water after 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, so mine. 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 of Twin 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.
“Obviously it’s a yes,” he drawled, his smile deep and sexy. “But you didn’t have to offer me a job to get me into bed with you,” he went on. “Because as far as you and I are concerned, that’s a done deal. You have me.”
“I know.” I drank him in, his face, his smile, his love. I didn’t know exactly what the future held for me, but right now, I didn’t care, because I was as sure as I could be that if Elliot was by my side, I would be okay. “So I have just one question for you.”
“Oh?” His eyebrow arched, gentle, teasing.
I pulled Elliot close, brushed his knuckles with my lips. “Are you ready to go back to the writers’ room with me?”