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He couldn’t shake last night’s call from his mind.
Throw in his conversation with Cameron during their mid-morning break, and it was all he could think about.
“Louisa called.”
“How is she doing?”
“Well. Really well. She said she understood Henry and me now.”
“Understood you?”
“She’s found true requited love at almost first sight.”
Cameron’s amusement rang in Elliot’s ears.
He wanted the workday to end.
But. He was an adult. He should take this maturely. Persuade himself he was lucky Wentworth had forgiven him, that they might even be becoming friends again. He’d never have had a second chance at more. Wentworth’s happiness was all that mattered.
On a picnic bench close to the set, Elliot stared at the sandwich in his hands. He’d picked it up at the local tearooms this morning. He’d chosen the option most like what Wentworth would have bought him.
Now it was the last thing he wanted to eat.
His eyes felt hot and the sandwich blurred.
He didn’t want to persuade himself against being with Wentworth. Not now. Not ever again.
“Hey!”
Elliot started. “Oh, Philip. Hey.”
Philip stepped carefully over the grass in his polished shoes. “Feel like a spot of company? Uh, good company, this time around.”
He sat without waiting for Elliot’s answer. Not that Elliot would have turned him away, but it rendered his question pointless. “My idea of good company, Philip, is the company of kind, conscientious people, who value listening to what goes said and unsaid. That’s what I call good company.”
“Nope,” Philip said, taking a large bite of a muffin and speaking around it, “that’s not good company. That’s the best. Good company is any company that doesn’t get so drunk he comes on to you.” He swallowed. “What? Why are you shaking your head?”
Elliot sighed. “That’s rather a low bar.”
“That’s my experience of the world.” Philip eyed him and grinned. “I can try listening better. For you.”
“I think it’s something you need to do for yourself.”
“Okay, then I’ll do it for myself.”
“Philip.” Philip’s eyes lit up. He was like a puppy, a very neat puppy who didn’t like dirt. “I get the feeling you’d like something to happen between us?”
“You read me so well. You are the best company.”
Elliot smiled gently and stared at his sandwich. “Nothing is going to happen between us.”
“Are you sure?” Philip leered. “I can be very persuasive.”
“I don’t feel any romantic warmth or feeling for you.”
Philip’s excitement faded and his shoulders drooped. “That seems to be a common consensus.” He blinked hard. “I guess I really am the problem. I don’t . . . get it.”
Elliot spoke softly. “You come on very strong. Maybe let things progress naturally?”
“I’m a doer. When I have a goal, I pursue it. Is that really so bad?”
“What’s your goal?”
“To get a boyfriend.”
“Why?”
“For sex?”
“You don’t necessarily need a boyfriend for that.”
“I hate Grindr. I don’t like one-night stands. I want someone to be mine.”
“Why?”
“So I won’t be lonely anymore!” Philip’s outburst was followed by his skin turning scarlet. “I mean, I have my younger brother, and he’s the world to me. So I shouldn’t feel lonely. Forget I said anything.”
Elliot took pity on him. “You can have a dozen friends and still feel lonely, Philip. A boyfriend for the sake of a boyfriend won’t solve that. What you’re looking for is connection.”
“Or to work on my wooing. Become romantic and all that. Excellent advice, Elliot. I’ll read all the classics and become a swashbuckler!”
“I didn’t—”
Philip was on his feet, bouncing—carefully—over the grass and onto the path. Elliot shook his head, not sure whether to laugh or to grimace. All Philip needed was a wagging tail.
Cameron stopped him briefly, and Philip seemed lost in his thoughts as Cameron spoke, dreamily smiling into thin air.
Elliot sighed and slid his untouched sandwich back into its paper bag. When he looked up, Cameron was there with his cute grin. “Are you free on Saturday evening?”
Elliot looked at him curiously. “I suppose it depends.”
Cameron laughed. “Look, my friends Lake and Knight had tickets to the opera and they can’t go with us, and you’d think it wouldn’t be so hard to get rid of two paid-for tickets! Well, one, now. I’ll be there with Henry, do you want the last ticket? Please say yes?”
His body tensed. The opera. He loved the opera. Ever since that magical first with Wentworth, he’d been fascinated. Le Nozze di Figaro, Die Zauberflöte, L’Elisir D’Amore. He’d watched them online, studied the lines, translated them. Sometimes, he’d look at the operas being staged in Hollywood and wonder if Wentworth was attending. Sometimes it’d made him feel oddly connected, no matter how much Wentworth moved on. Sometimes the opera came to Port Ratapu, and when it did he was there.
Except this time it’d been sold out.
Cameron was offering him a seat for free?
“I’d be honoured.”
Cameron pulled the glossy ticket from the inside of his jacket and handed it over. “Excellent. Shall we meet out the front of the theatre around six?”
