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The nutty scent of coffee carried through the house, and Elliot followed it to the dining table.
Finley, Ethan, and Noah looked up at him over their coffees with expectant stares and quivering smirks.
“So.”
“So . . .”
“So?”
Elliot groan-laughed and slumped into the chair, grabbed the coffee set out for him, and prepared to tell all. “So . . .”
“Benny!” Elliot said, Honey pulling at his lead, eager to get out of the rain-shower. It was barely nine o’clock, and they’d just reached the studios. “What are you doing here?”
Huddled under the entrance porch, Benny smiled nervously. “C-Cameron invited me to take a tour. Said most people are out shooting at the beach?”
Elliot nodded. “Only a handful of us in the studios this morning. It’ll be quiet.”
Benny looked relieved to hear it. “Ah, there’s Cameron.”
Cameron left his car and sprinted through the shower towards them. “I hope this weather clears up or Brandon and the crew will be having a time of it.”
Elliot stared up at the grey clouds and cringed. “Fingers crossed.”
“Speak of the devil.” Cameron took a call. “Brandon.”
Elliot nudged Benny, grinning. “Does Wentworth know you’re visiting?”
“I offered to drive us both seeing he doesn’t have a car, but he said walking helps him clear his mind for the day. Working with his ex, he needs it.”
“Oh, I see.” He didn’t entirely.
Honey yipped. Distractedly, Elliot wished them a fun tour and ducked inside.
Working with his ex, he needs it.
Did Benny know the ex was him? The man seemed sensitive and tactful. Not the type to throw that in his face if he’d known.
Inside, Louisa jogged past him and halted. Her cheeks were as bright as her pink sneakers. “Elliot!”
“Louisa?”
“Just got a call. The crew are coming back to shoot the first love-making scene.”
“What about the beach?”
“The weather will only clear up in the afternoon. We’re doing a swap.”
“Okay, they’ll need me on set, then.”
“Can I get you earlier? Like, ten minutes? Lime studio? I have to adjust the lights and I need actors, or bodies . . . I was hoping you might be okay with standing in? Maybe drag Wentworth in with you?”
Elliot tightened his grip on Honey’s lead. “What do you mean you need bodies?”
“The lighting, I need to see how it works with real bodies in the space . . . Look, I wouldn’t ask, but it’s a time-crunch thing and I’ve got no other actors.”
He stared at her, mind racing over the scene in question. He’d gone through it with the actors theoretically already. Sex. On a four-poster bed. Those bodies would have to . . . “Louisa—”
She was off.
Dreaming of our last kiss
My heart
It always weeps
W. McAllister, “Bumblebee Breakup”
No way would Wentworth consider doing this.
Just mentioning it would drain all colour from his face, would have him slinking further back into his shell, would make conversing that much more difficult.
And Elliot wanted to do it.
Intimacy—even faked intimacy—with Wentworth . . . God, he missed how wonderful it felt to be cocooned under all that strength. It might only be fifteen minutes of pretending, but being that close, feeling Wentworth’s heart beating against his? Feeling the tickle of his breath at his cheek, ear, neck . . .
He’d savour every moment of it, every press of their bodies, he’d commit it all to memory so when they parted, he’d have this to keep.
He breezed into the music studio, locked onto the daydream, and stared blatantly at Wentworth at his desk, not realising he’d stopped until Honey yipped and Wentworth swivelled towards them.
His hair looked windswept, beard ready for another trim, and those eyes . . . the deepest part of the sea he wished to and couldn’t explore. He petted Honey, who’d stretched up Wentworth’s legs, tail wagging.
Wentworth looked up and raised a brow.
Elliot started. “I met Benny outside.”
“Yeah, Cameron’s giving him a tour, then we’re doing an early lunch together.”
It burst out of Elliot. “He says you walk in every day.”
“I do.”
“He says, you have to. For your nerves.”
“Also true.”
“He says it’s because you have to work with your ex.”
Wentworth shifted in his seat.
“If this is too much on your mental health, I think I should move in with—”
“Hellooo!”
Elliot and Wentworth jerked simultaneously toward the door. Philip stood there, sharply dressed in a suit and polished shoes, holding a bouquet of yellow roses. He flashed his teeth over their heads and stepped into the room. “Elliot. These are for you.”
Elliot eyed the offering dubiously.
“To apologise,” Philip clarified. “For the weekend. I was stupidly drunk and totally inappropriate.” Philip tried to hold Elliot’s gaze, but his guilt had him dropping his chin. “I’m sorry.”
Elliot took the offered roses. “You misjudged the situation. Made a mistake. I can move on from it.”
Philip nodded and smiled with relief. He rocked back on his heels, clapping. “Okay, I better get back to it.” His eyes flashed between Elliot and Wentworth and then he twisted out of sight.
