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“See?” Louisa said. “Everyone is happy.”
Elliot couldn’t calm his belly. He should not . . . read into things. Should not set himself up for disappointment. “How did this all happen in the space of two days?” He breathed out the question. More for himself than Louisa.
She answered anyway. “Well, two and a half. I woke in the night in the ER just as Benny was due off work and he ended up staying with me until I fell asleep again.”
“It’s. Wow.”
“To be fair, we’ve been practically inseparable since. So, it’s like a dozen dates condensed one after the other.”
“Yes.”
“I know people will struggle to believe it. But it’s . . . it really is love at first sight.”
Elliot couldn’t contain a laugh. “Louisa, I believe you.”
Wentworth had been sleeping at Elliot’s house, looking after Honey, since Wednesday. Three nights. And Elliot was aware of it every time he climbed into his bed in Cubworthy. He tried not to let his imagination run away with him, but . . . who was he kidding? He let his imagination run away with him.
Now it was Saturday, they’d wrapped up work, and he was readying himself for the drive back, stomach fluttering. Almost to the point of sickness.
Funny how just knowing Wentworth was available made him feel as nervous as a teenager again.
Just because Wentworth wasn’t with Louisa didn’t mean Elliot suddenly had a chance. Wentworth might want nothing more than friendship.
Still, his heart swelled, and he couldn’t wait to be back.
As if he’d been summoned, Wentworth sent him a message. A selfie of him and Honey against a backdrop of hazelnut trees.
Elliot: Cute!
* * *
Wentworth: Me or the dog?
* * *
Elliot: The dog. You’re the seventh most-handsome man. According to this week’s Gala.
* * *
Wentworth: Since when do you read Gala?
* * *
Elliot: Since you’re the seventh most-handsome man?
* * *
Wentworth: It’s all crap.
* * *
Elliot: Hmm . . . I’m sure that depends on the reader.
Elliot held his breath. He stood stupidly in the middle of the apartment, suitcase packed ready for the car. One shoe tied up, the other waiting patiently for him.
God, those dots were jumping for a long time.
Wentworth: You’re back by five, right?
Not . . . not quite the response he was after.
He smiled against the twinge of disappointment.
Elliot: Just after, probably.
* * *
Wentworth: Would you be up for an evening at the opera? For old times’ sake?
The butterflies resurfaced. Only . . . crap.
Elliot: Actually I will be at the opera. I accepted a free ticket from Cameron. He had a spare and we agreed to meet there . . .
* * *
Wentworth: Oh, right. I hadn’t grabbed tickets or anything.
Elliot closed his eyes, and his smile ripped at his mouth so hard. Tickets had sold out months ago. Wentworth must have pulled some strings, played the royalty card to score two tickets. If it wouldn’t be so rude to Cameron, he’d change his plans, go with Wentworth. Maybe he would be rude.
Wentworth: I guess I’ll just see you there, then.
* * *
Elliot: Or we can drive there together?
* * *
Wentworth: Yeah, I’d like that.
* * *
Elliot: I’ll see you honey in an hour.
He winced. It’d been a slip of the fingers. He’d meant to add an ‘and’ in there. I’ll see you and Honey in an hour. He stared at the screen, waiting for Wentworth’s response. He didn’t want Wentworth to misunderstand him.
Except, that wasn’t true. He did. He wanted Wentworth to take the unintended meaning, and he wanted him to like it.
His phone dinged. Elliot sucked in a breath.
Bobby high
A sweet salty breeze
Sunshine and you
Make me laugh and sneeze
W. McAllister, with Ask Austen Studios, “Float My Boat”
Wentworth: Sure, bumblebee.
Elliot pocketed the message and grinned the whole drive home. Rain pelted his car, flooded the streets, and Elliot and his smile shone so hard that together they just might make a rainbow.
He parked outside his place and contemplated the fun dash ahead of him. He would get soaked. No doubt about it—
He straightened behind the wheel.
Wentworth was moving down the path, a massive umbrella over his head. Through the gaps between splotches on the passenger window, Elliot eyed his swift approach.
Despite the umbrella, he looked quite wet. But he was smiling, and it struck Elliot like lightning. He and Wentworth were friends again. Maybe . . . more.
He had a second chance to keep Wentworth in his life.
He was suddenly overwhelmed, blinded, bewildered.
This was pleasure, pure and simple.
Wentworth opened the driver’s door, holding the umbrella strategically that Elliot might not get a single drop of rain on him. He delivered a crooked smile as Elliot climbed out onto the street. They were suddenly so close. “Hey,” Elliot said softly.
“Hey.”
They stared at one another and it felt electric. It jolted through his chest, down either arm, made his legs wobble. Elliot suddenly laughed, ticklish everywhere. “Better grab my suitcase and get out of the rain.”
