Chapter Thirty-Five
What felt like hours later, but in reality was just one, I emerged from a subway station on Seventh Avenue, my feet burning with pain.
Despite it being the early hours of the morning, the trains had been busy, and I’d had to stand for a section of the journey, garnering more than a little attention in my exquisite gown.
Now, I had several blocks to walk to make it to the High Line, but every step felt like a blade piercing the balls of my feet.
Would Elliot even be there? I cursed my phone for dying on me; what if he was trying to call me back?
He’d be worried. Although my flat was not too far away, along with my phone charger, every second I was spending without Elliot was a waste.
Determinedly, I hobbled down the street, but my progress was slow and, finally, I caved.
I leaned against a lamppost and unbuckled my shoes, groaning with relief as my feet hit the cool pavement.
I knew it wasn’t sanitary and I dreaded to think what the soles of my feet would look like but if I walked a moment longer in these beautiful murderous heels, my feet would fall off at the ankle.
I was able to pick up the pace and as I thought of Elliot, alone, confused, possibly hurt over the tumult of the evening, I sped into a trot, then a run, crossing Eighth and then Ninth Avenues, my sequined gown flowing behind me as I sped towards the High Line.
Finally, I’d made it to Twenty-Third Street.
I looked at the wall and then down at my gown.
“Sorry, Lando,” I said. I gathered up the dress, using a hair tie to fix all the bunched-up material around my thighs so it didn’t snag on anything.
I threw the evil heels up onto the wall, then clambered up after them, making my way to the little access point in the fence.
Wincing, I lifted the flap and eased through, moving slowly so none of the fabric caught.
There was just the slope to navigate now, the one that would lead me to the High Line walkway.
The ground was littered with rocks and twigs; I hadn’t considered this when I removed my shoes, so it was slow going as I pulled myself up the slope, kicking away the sharper-looking detritus so I could pick my way up.
The slowness was infuriating but, eventually, I made it to the top.
I pushed through the trees and looked up and down the path.
Where was he? I hurried towards the viewpoint he and I had sat at, the one he’d told me was his favored thinking spot.
He wasn’t there. My heart sank. What an idiot I was; I’d just assumed he’d come here instead of slinking home.
Perhaps he’d even caught a train home to see his family.
I slumped onto the bench and looked down at myself.
Although my dress had miraculously emerged unscathed from my breaking and entering, my legs were another story altogether.
My feet were red and puffy, with scratches all up my shins from the scaling of the slope.
I loosened the hair-band and let the dress slither back down my body.
Now what? I didn’t fancy tackling the climb back down to the street, but then again, I couldn’t stay here long.
If a guard that wasn’t Mal caught me, I would be in deep shit.
I heaved myself up again. I could stay here, bemoaning how utterly twisted and confusing my life was, or I could make my escape back to my apartment, charge my phone and try to call Elliot again, make sure he was okay.
I walked away from the viewpoint and back to the path, where I paused, debating whether to climb back down the slope or take my chances with one of the other exits.
It was then that I saw a figure, maybe one hundred yards down the walkway, standing with a jacket thrown over his shoulder, peering at me in confusion. Tall, rumpled hair, disheveled tux. It was him. I broke into a sprint, all aches and pains forgotten.
“Lucie?” Elliot gasped as I approached. “What—”
His concerns were muffled as I threw myself into his arms. He lifted me off the floor and held me, his face buried in my hair.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled over and over into his shoulder.
“Hey. What do you have to be sorry about?” He lowered me to the ground but didn’t let go of my waist.
“You quit,” I said.
“I know.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I told him. “Not because of me.”
“It had to be done.” He didn’t look sad, quite the opposite in fact. He seemed … triumphant. “I tried to call you but—”
“My phone died.”
“I lost track of time with my buddies from the crew,” he said. “And then I wanted to find you but couldn’t. You must have left with Sol at that point. Lucie, what Ralf did to you—”
“I know, it’s horrible.”
“And then RJ … he didn’t even care,” he went on, “said something about doing whatever it takes to get ahead, and it was like … fuck, where’s your integrity?”
“He said the same to me,” I murmured.
“So I just let him have it. When I think of everything that I’ve done for him, the late nights, the lost weekends …” Elliot shook his head. “I chose work over Mom so many times, thinking it would pay off, and look where it got me.”
“So why quit when you were so close?” My throat felt thick with emotion.
“Was I, though?” he said. “He was so pissed about the Woodstock thing. And when I challenged him on what Ralf and Vivian did, when I saw he didn’t care how that hurt you, it all became so clear. I’m a great assistant – I get promoted away from that role, he’s fucked.”
“You think he was never going to let you have a directing job on his movie,” I said.
“I asked him outright,” Elliot said. “It wasn’t an immediate yes. So I quit.”
“Elliot …” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
Elliot shrugged. “I don’t care. I can’t work for a man like that, not anymore. Even if he offered the directing job to me … I wouldn’t take it.”
“I don’t think anyone has ever stood up for me the way you just did,” I choked. “So what will you do now? What about Woodstock?”
“I need to call the network in the morning,” he said. “But I figure we can work something out.” He swallowed, eyes shining. “There’s something else.”
“What?”
He took a deep breath. “I’m moving to LA.”
“You’re joining Stoof?” I guessed.
“Yeah,” he said. “I called my buddy, Josh. He has a spare room for me and more work than the Collective can cope with. Mom got a place in a residential rehab program over in Bridgeport and I think she’s actually ready to make it work. It’s time.”
“Elliot, this is the best news,” I said truthfully.
He folded my hands in his, clutched them to his heart. “Come with me.”
I blinked, unsure if I’d heard him correctly. “To LA?”
“Yes,” he said. “Please.”
I stared at him. He’d already given up so much because of me and even now, on the cusp of an amazing opportunity, he was still trying to put me first.
“You know I have to go back,” I said.
“For Bex.” He squeezed my hands. “And I told you, I understand. But that won’t be forever. A few months, maybe?”
I genuinely didn’t know, but I couldn’t put a timeline on Bex’s wellbeing. “I – I’m not sure.”
“I’ll find us a place; I don’t know how I’ll be fixed financially but don’t worry, I can always bartend if—”
I pressed a finger to his lips. “No.”
The way his face fell broke my heart. “No? What do you mean, no?”
My heart was pounding. I couldn’t believe these were the words I was about to say, but they were all for him and I meant each one. Didn’t mean that they didn’t hurt. “This is your chance, Elliot. You can’t be worrying about providing for me when you’re meant to be focusing on your big opportunity.”
Elliot stared at me intently, as if I were crazy. “I can do it. I want to.”
“I know that you want to,” I said softly. “But let’s think about this.”
“No.” His eyes flashed. “Don’t do this again.”
“Do what again?”
“Don’t be so practical and careful that you risk losing out on—” he gestured helplessly between us “—this! Jesus Lucie, what more do I need to say to make you believe in this?”
I looked at his handsome yet tortured face. “Elliot, of course I believe in this. So much so, I’m about to make possibly the most reckless decision of my life.”
“What do you mean?”
“I know I’ve only known you a few weeks,” I said. “But I think you’re the man I’m meant to spend the rest of my life with. You told me earlier tonight that you’re all in, well, so am I.”
His lips parted. “Oh.”
“Yeah. So I need you to go to LA and build a life, just as I need to go back to London and figure out what I’m doing with mine.” I gripped his face in my hands. “Then one day, when we’ve both got our shit together, one of us is going to get on a plane and that’ll be it. You and me.”
His hands smoothed up and down my back, pushing my body against his. “I don’t know how long I can wait.”
“Same.” I ran my hands up his strong arms, across his broad shoulders. How was I going to cope, not being able to step into his embrace whenever I needed it?
“Knowing you’re just the other side of the ocean.” He buried his face in my neck. “A plane ride away. How am I supposed to get on with anything knowing I can just buy a ticket to London and see you?”
“We need a little time,” I said. “I need a few months, maybe more, to set myself up, then I’m yours forever.”
“Forever.” He cupped my face and kissed me deeply, making my head swirl with the dizzying promise of our future. When we came up for air, Elliot tugged at his wrist.
“Here.” He held out his bracelet.
“Elliot, no, I can’t take this.” I fingered the tin bracelet. “This is your mum’s. Yours.”
“You can, and you will,” he ordered, sliding it over my hand. “Consider it a promise.”
My pulse quickened. “A promise of what?”
“That I’m all in,” he said, pushing his face against mine. “However long it takes. I love you, Lucie Clifton.”
“I love you too, Elliot Fox.”