Chapter 36
I WENT TO GREENSBORO, NORTH CAROLINA, TO WATCH RORY PLAY in a tournament. I brought Zoe with me so I wouldn’t be sitting in the stands or walking the course alone. Orson was there as Rory’s caddie, and Zoe was more than thrilled to spend some more time with him.
“Nothing’s happened between you two?” I whispered to Zoe as we watched Rory make his way to the tenth tee. We were surrounded by full trees, lush greenery, and a crowd of spectators.
“Literally nothing. He slept with me in my bed last night, and I felt . . . things in the morning.” Zoe’s eyes went wide.
“Very exciting things. At one point, I woke up in the night and he was cuddling me, but that’s it.
” Zoe sulked as we watched Rory drive the ball.
We clapped along with everyone else, then she leaned in again. “I don’t think he likes me like that.”
“He’s looking at you right now,” I noted, but Zoe still wasn’t so sure. When they made eye contact, Orson turned away, putting his attention back on Rory.
“See? What was that?” Zoe asked.
“I don’t know.” I frowned at Orson’s reaction, wishing I hadn’t said anything. “He’s working, though. Don’t worry about it.”
“Do you remember him being shy when you were young? Because he wasn’t shy in Vegas. I’m getting some crazy mixed signals here.”
“Yeah . . . Maybe. I really don’t know, Zoe. Rory’s told me that he’s into you,” I admitted.
“Well, can someone tell Orson that?” Zoe joked.
It was a thrill to see Rory in his element.
Fans, employees, commentators, even his competitors were fawning over him.
I tried to keep my distance, so as not to crowd or distract him, but every time he saw me standing at the back of the crowd, he would shoot daggers at me with his eyes, then crank his head for me to come closer.
At night, the four of us would go to dinner, and Rory would parade me around as if the night were mine, introducing me to everyone. When Rory threw out “Ellie golfs, too” to a journalist he was making small talk with, I choked on my drink, bringing up some backwashed wine into my glass.
“No, I don’t.” I shook my head, full blush. “I used to when I was a kid.”
“She’s really good.” Rory winked at the journalist. “She’s also a writer.”
“Rory! Stop.” My body curled in on itself as the journalist smiled at me. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes, she is. On the record. Ellie McCain. Los Angeles. Writer.”
The journalist nodded at me politely, then clapped Rory’s back before wishing him luck on the tournament.
“You’re crazy.” I laughed, and Rory pulled me onto a nonexistent dance floor in the middle of the restaurant, where no one else was dancing and everyone was watching.
A pianist was playing softly in the corner.
Rory brought my hand up to hold against his chest and wrapped his other arm around my waist. “What are you doing?” I whispered as we began to sway.
“I want to dance with you,” he muttered into the side of my head.
“But everyone is looking at us.”
“Yeah, well . . . fuck ’em.” He kissed my temple.
I looked over to Zoe and Orson, who were sitting at our table, and saw Zoe’s wide smile as she watched us. I pulled back to look at Rory, and he leaned down to kiss my nose.
“What do Cameron and Blair think about all of this?” I asked, just as I noticed the journalist that Rory had been talking to snap a picture of us on her phone.
“About all of what?”
“Us.”
“They’re happy for me, but they’re also nervous. They’re worried about the distance, but I’m not, and you’re not, and that’s all I care about.”
A few other diners joined us on the makeshift dance floor. I smiled at them before turning back to Rory. “They’re just being protective. Hannah’s the same way.”
“Did I tell you that Jacob talked to me?” Rory laughed.
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah, he gave me a big brother, if-you-hurt-her-I’ll-kill-you talk, and I had to remind him that you weren’t his sister and it’s not 1995. I told him you were a big girl.”
“I’m sorry, did you say I was a ‘big girl’ or a ‘bad girl’?” I joked.
Rory chuckled. “You dummy,” he said lovingly, then breathed me in.
“I feel so lucky, Rory. I don’t think everybody feels this way. I hear people talk about their partners, and . . . I just don’t think everyone gets this. Lightning struck twice.”
He was staring back at me calmly, carefully, scanning my face. “Thank you for not taking your shoes off this time . . .” he murmured.
“Back atcha.” I smiled. Rory looked into my eyes, lost in his thoughts. “What?”
Rory shook his head and whispered, “Nothing.”
“Well, you’re looking at me right now like you want to ask me to go watch a movie with you.” I narrowed my eyes at Rory, teasing him about the way he once envisioned proposing when we were young in Vancouver.
Rory squeezed his eyes shut, looking embarrassed. “I’m better than that. It will be better than that,” he declared.
I put my head back on his chest, tucking our hands under my chin as we finished the song in silence.
Before Rory could lead me back to the table, he cleared his throat. “I’m going out with Orson in the morning, if that’s okay. I’ll slip out before you’re up.”
“What are you going to do?” I pressed my face into his neck.
“Just grabbing breakfast and meeting up with some of my team. But I didn’t want you wondering where I was when you woke up.” He tucked his chin and lightly kissed the top of my shoulder.
“Okay. But I get you for the rest of the night, right?” I released myself from my hiding spot and looked up at Rory.
“Ellie, Cainey, baby, my love . . . you are getting fucking destroyed tonight.” Rory smiled wickedly.
He captured my jaw, tilting my head so he could kiss me deeply, public forum be damned.
Our lips slowly fell away from each other, and with his eyes still closed, he mumbled, “How’d I get so lucky? ”
“Hey!” I smiled. “That’s my line.”
Rory kissed me softly once more. We returned to our table to find Zoe and Orson holding hands.
After Greensboro, Rory started coming out to Los Angeles almost every weekend, staying with me and Zoe in Highland Park.
I showed him all my favorite places and taco trucks.
We did the Hollywood sign hike. I took him to see an outdoor screening of The Lost Boys at Hollywood Forever Cemetery.
My neighbor Martin brought him along as a substitute player for his West Hollywood dodgeball team, Fleetwood Smack, where Rory was so popular, he may as well have been King of WeHo.
Martin had never been so proud to show off a beautiful new friend.
Rory moved seamlessly into my American life as if he’d always been there, and I anchored into his.
If he wasn’t in LA, I went to Vancouver or off to wherever his golf took him.
When the Hollywood Bowl concert finally came around, we packed a picnic, wine, and blankets, and Rory finally understood what all the fuss was about.
The sunset had lit the sky lavender, and the Hollywood sign sat in the hills just beyond the iconic bowl.
We arrived early to sit on the bleachers and enjoy our picnic while watching the crowd filter into the world-famous outdoor amphitheater.
“This is incredible.” Rory opened our bottle of wine.
“The coolest thing I’ve seen here was a screening of The Nightmare Before Christmas, and the cast sang with a live orchestra to the movie. Oh! Wait, maybe not.” I scanned my memory. “Maybe it was seeing Steve Martin play the banjo here.”
“No wonder you don’t want to come back to Vancouver.”
My heart sank. I tilted my head at Rory. “When did I say that?”
Rory shook his head, clearly upset with himself. He kissed my shoulder delicately. “You haven’t. Not to me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Ellie?” The voice came from behind me, and my body tightened.
I turned slowly to see Craig Sinicki looking at me, bemused.
He was with a friend, and they were taking their seats six bleachers below us.
I let out a slow, deep breath, and could tell from Rory’s shift in position, moving closer to me, that he could feel my energy change.
“Hi, Craig.” I forced out a smile.
“Guns N’ Roses? I never would have pegged you.” He let out a smarmy smile as he ran his fingers through his blond hair. “Who’s this?”
“Craig, this is my boyfriend, Rory. Rory, this is Craig. We work together.”
“Well, she works for me.” Craig reached his hand out to shake.
Rory looked down at the hand, not wanting to accept the pleasantry but doing so anyway.
“I don’t work for you,” I said flatly, then turned to Rory.
“Craig is the showrunner for one of the shows Marie Street produces. The writers’ room is in the same building as us.
So our paths are always crossing.” I nodded.
Hopefully, that was the end of the conversation, and we could all go on our merry way.
“Well, apparently, we have a complicated relationship that we’re still trying to figure out. Ellie, you can set me straight later.” Craig laughed with his friend.
Goddamn it.
“Excuse me?” Rory said, his jaw hardening. His hand stopped gently skimming my back, and he pressed his palm into the side of my hip, scooting me closer to his body.
“I’m just messing around. Ellie’s one of the good ones.”
I stiffened and pressed my lips together tightly.
“We have a lot of fun together, right, El?” Craig winked and then sat down with his friend, turning away from us to face the stage.
Rory moved his hand from my hip to around my shoulder. “What was that?” he whispered into my ear.
I barely shook my head, silently communicating with him to please drop it.
“Do you want to go?” He lightly brushed his lips against my temple.
I turned toward Rory. “No, I absolutely do not want to go. I—I . . .” I stumbled.
“I don’t like the way he was talking to you, Ellie.”