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“You think yourself lucky?” he questions, his tone probing for more.
Why would I not think myself lucky? This is what I want to ask him, but I have a feeling it’s not the sort of thing I would normally say. I am lucky, just not lucky enough to remember who I was less than twenty-four hours ago.
In the end, I face him, thinking honesty is the best policy. “I have this wonderful life, with a wonderfully hot Hollywood movie star who any woman with a pulse would want to marry. Why wouldn’t I count myself lucky? Lots of women would kill to be in my shoes.”
That last sentence gives me pause. It seems extremely significant somehow, but I don’t know why. I don’t have much time to dwell on it as Eli replies.
“I can’t remember the last time you called me hot.”
I frown, a deep sadness taking over me as I gaze upon Eli. His head is turned, looking out onto the street, but I can tell it’s only for show. He looks… melancholy. Have I really been such a bitch to him?
A lump forms in my throat, but I swallow it down, my nostrils flaring with determination. “Well, maybe I should change all that. Starting from today, I will call you hot every day until you’re sick of me saying it.”
A deep, rumbling laughter escapes his chest, making my knees go weak.
“I don’t think I would ever tire of my wife calling me hot. You know, a lot of men would kill to be in my shoes too.”
Again, this seems to sadden him. Why? I guess if I’m normally high on drink and drugs, that ought to kill that revelation somehow.
“Those other men don’t hold a candle to you, Eli.”
Eli captivates me with his stare. At first he’s hard to read, but then his hesitation makes me realizes he’s trying to make out whether I’m bullshitting him or not.
“We’ve arrived, Mr. Prescott,” the driver says, breaking Eli’s stare.
A sense of excitement fills the air as we exit the car and make our way up the stairs towards this massive grand building, consisting of what I can only describe as Romanesque architecture.
It’s strange—I feel I have been here before, but can’t quite wrap my head around how I know this place.
Shaking off that thought, Eli and I enter the huge space inside the hall filled with people mingling, drinking and laughing. Eli scans the room like he’s looking for someone, but then the wanton attention of a man takes his prying eyes away.
“Eli, Eli, Eli, I think that was a raging success, don’t you?”
The tall gentleman in his fifties with pitch black hair, wearing a rather loud red, orange and yellow bowtie, shakes Eli’s hand. The man’s gaze turns to me, but the softness in his eyes lessens when they land on my own. “Kendra, so nice you could make it during your… busy schedule. Did you enjoy the movie?”
Busy schedule? So glad I could make it? Who is this guy?
I smile sweetly, even though I want to tell him where to stuff his sarcasm. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” I answer, grabbing Eli’s arm and threading it through mine. “I thought the movie was awesome.”
The strange man raises his eyebrow in surprise at me. “Awesome, huh?” He then turns to Eli, completely ignoring me and babbling on about next week. Through conversations with regards to interviews, television appearances, and a slot on The Late Late Show, I quickly gather that this strange man may be Eli’s agent.
Little by little, we sink into the crowd, and although Eli is still in deep conversation with his agent, he makes the effort to turn to me, making sure I am still by his side. A sentiment I smile at. I nod encouragingly towards him as although I am there, I also realize how important this night is for him.
Pretty soon, we are at the bar and the agent disappears, mingling through the crowd with a glass of champagne high in the air.
“What would you like to drink?”
I snap my head to Eli. “Just a fizzy water will do.” Eli laughs. “What’s so funny?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing. It’s just after three years of being married to you, I’ve never seen you drink fizzy water. It comes as a surprise, that’s all.”
He turns to the bar to order, but I have something to say. “Well, maybe it’s time we got to know each other all over again.”
Eli glances my way at the same time the barman asks what we want. Eli orders my fizzy water and a shot of bourbon for himself before turning to face me. “You know, I actually like the sound of that.”
We smile at each other, and soon after, our drinks arrive. Eli hands me my glass and picks up his own, saluting in my direction. We clink glasses.
“To getting to know each other.”
