But they did show Eli.
My heart clenched as they showed us winning it all. Instead of ending it there, it flashed to one final interview with Eli. His eyes were cloudy and he had a goofy grin on his face.
“I had no idea I’d find my person here. This whole idea of meeting someone on reality TV was so ridiculous I wanted to walk off that first day.” He laughed and smacked his thighs. “But here I am, so in love with her I can’t even think straight.”
I sprang up as the show rolled to the final credits, my adrenaline now flowing full-force as my heart hammered against my ribcage.
In love? In love!
Eli had never said those words to me. But he’d said them for the rest of the world to hear. In all of our secret moments together, he hadn’t said them. When he had been begging for my forgiveness, he’d never said them.
Didn’tIdeserve to hear them?
In a heated, impulsive moment, I grabbed my coat and ran out my door.
Chapter Thirty
The phone ranga few times before his deep, groggy voice answered. “Calla?”
“Did you really mean I could call you anytime? Day or night?” I demanded.
My adrenaline had faded only slightly on the ride over, but now as I stood on the steps of the modest townhouse he had rented, it surged once again.
“Of course.” I could hear shuffling on his end and imagined him getting out of bed.
“Can you come let me inside?”
“Let you inside?” He sounded confused, but I could hear his feet padding hastily against the floor. “You’re not at my house, are you?” But as he said the words, his front door opened. Eli stood there, shirtless, wearing only gray sweatpants. I tried to keep my eyes off his chest as he blinked in disbelief.
“Calla? What the hell?”
“Are you going to invite me in, or just stand there?” Iasked, hanging up the call and pushing past him before he could give me an answer.
He closed the door and spun around, following me into his dark house. We stopped in what appeared to be his living room.
Eli’s mouth was still agape as he appeared to be processing whether I was actually standing in his house, or simply a figment of his imagination.
“It’s the middle of the night,” he started.
“I can’t write because of you,” I accused, pointing at him.
He threaded his hands atop his head and stared down at me. “What?”
I threw up my arms. “I can’t write. I wrote half a book when I got back, but now I’m stuck. All of my creativity has dried up, and it’s all because of you. How can I write a happy ending when they don’t actually exist?”
Eli’s eyes narrowed at me. “Did you walk here? Calla, it’s four in the morning. Why the hell were you outside by yourself?—”
I held up a hand. “I took a cab, and this is no time for some misguided protective lecture.”
He crossed his arms and scowled. “I’ll give you a protective lecture if I need to. You should have asked me to come to your apartment. I would have been there in an instant. How did you even know where I live?”
“Your assistant told me, that day I came to set,” I said. “She was quick to tell me anything I asked.”
He dragged a hand down his face, which was still tense with bewilderment. “You really came over here in the middle of the night to berate me for your writer’s block?”
“Yes...no.” The intense energy surge that had pushed me all the way to Eli’s house was gone. In its place was somethingelse. Something much more vulnerable. “I finally watched the show,” I admitted.
He nodded as if finally starting to understand.
