Текст книги "Red Carpet Kiss"

Автор книги: Melissa Brown

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.” Saul Greenberg, the president of the network, was smiling wide, leaning back in his chair.

Elle’s leg bobbed up and down as she pondered his offer to create a new show for prime time.

“I’m thrilled, just thrilled at how you’re running things down there. The viewers love it—our ratings have never been better. A time slot is opening up next fall. And I want you to present three pitches for a new drama to debut right after Follow the Sun.”

“I can’t believe this. How—how will I balance both shows?” Elle’s arms, shoulders, even face were tense.

“You’ll figure it out. There will be a significant salary bump, of course. And bonuses. This is a big deal, Ms. Riley. We don’t do this for just anyone. You’re a star—three Golden Globe nods. And number one in the Nielsens.”

“What kind of show are you looking for, sir? Law? Medical? Something totally different?” Her mind was swirling, yet empty.

Saul cracked a smile and Elle wondered if he could sense her state of total panic. “We’re open to whatever you can bring to the table. We’ll start filming this summer. You’ll need to hand over more of the writing to your staff, so you can balance both shows. Do you think you can do that?”

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

Saul chuckled.

Elle tipped her head to the side. “Sir?”

“Letting go of control is . . . well, it’s not your strong suit.”

“I promise to work on it.”

“That’s good enough for me.” Saul rose from his seat. “Can you have those ideas to me by Friday?”

That’s two days from now! Elle screamed inside her head. She inhaled deeply, knowing she’d figure out a way, and composed herself before rising to her feet to shake Saul’s hand.

“Sure, I can do that.” Elle reeled in her nerves, giving Saul her best confident smile. “Thank you for this opportunity, sir.”

Elle left Saul’s office and walked down to the parking lot, entering her car before whooping with glee and slapping her steering wheel with exuberance. She couldn’t believe it. In several months, she could be the writer and show runner of not one, but two shows in prime time. The feeling was exhilarating.

The only problem was her empty brain.

No ideas, not one. She needed Rob. As much as his sage-like behavior sometimes annoyed her, he had definite skill when it came to coaxing the creativity from Elle when her nerves were shot. Quickly, she sent him a text informing him of her discussion and requesting a brief meeting in her office.

She returned to the studio lot and made her way to her office. Rob was waiting for her when she arrived.

“How excited are you?” Rob asked.

“I’m freaking out, Rob!” Elle paced her office. Her hands trembled and her mind remained blank.

“C’mon, you’re a creative person. I’m sure you have plenty of ideas in that head of yours.”

It was true most of the time. Elle’s mind did wander at times, and she dreamed up new ideas. Fresh and exciting ideas that had nothing to do with her past. She needed to somehow tap into that now. The opportunity to create something completely from scratch was beyond exciting. It was the opportunity of her career.

“Thank goodness we’re done filming this week. I can focus without Gina flaunting her showmance in my face.”

“I really wish we could get rid of her.”

Elle jerked her head back in shock. She didn’t realize Rob shared her feelings of disgust when it came to their leading lady.

“Oh, c’mon,” he continued. “We both know she’s a shit.”

Elle sat up straight in her chair. “I have a newfound respect for you.”

“Listen, I have to go. Get those creative juices flowing. Get Whitney in here, she’ll help you.”

“Uh,” Elle fumbled. “We’re not in the best place.”

“Oh, good Lord. I could never be a woman. I swear, there’s always something.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Rob stood and walked to the door, turning once his hand was on the knob. “And Elle?”

“Yeah.”

“Congratulations. I’m really proud of you.”

“Thanks, Rob. That means a lot to me, seriously.”

Rob gave her a quick wave before leaving her alone with her chaotic thoughts. She wanted to call Whitney . . . and Luke. But even though she reached for her phone, she placed it down on her desk, swarmed with conflicting thoughts. She and Luke hadn’t spoken in a personal manner since she threatened to call the police and tabloids. And Whitney was MIA ever since their uncomfortable evening at the French bistro. She knew they would both be excited for her, but her feelings of excitement were overshadowed by the awkward state of each relationship. So instead she focused on what she could: the work. She needed three ideas.

A new show.

A new show.

A new show.

She was drawing a blank.

Whenever Elle was stuck, she did one of two things. First, she called Whitney for a brainstorm session over candy and/or cocktails. And if, like today, that wasn’t an option, she retrieved her journal from the bottom drawer of her desk. Below her candy stash, a simple leather-bound book with a painted picture of an old-school typewriter and her initials sat for moments like this. She pulled the journal from her drawer, dusted off the cover, and scanned through her book ideas—ideas from long ago when she was starting her writing career.

When she opened the journal to the first page, her phone pinged with a text.

Elle glanced down at her phone. She couldn’t take her eyes off the brief message from Troy. A proper response eluded her, and yet she knew it was necessary to respond sooner rather than later.

Are you avoiding me?

She and Troy hadn’t spoken since their date at MacArthur Park two weeks earlier. Was she avoiding him? Not intentionally. Work was hectic, her relationship with Luke was at an impasse, and Gina was a royal pain in her ass. Not to mention she and Whitney were barely speaking. She was a mess, and adding Troy into the mix was an overwhelming thought. And, if she was being honest with herself, discovering that Amanda was Payton’s mother was not helping things for her. Not at all.

No. Just really busy.

She stared at the screen, not wanting to be too dismissive in her reply. She wanted to see Troy. She wanted to spend more time with him—she was just lost. Truly lost, and she knew she had no idea what she wanted. It didn’t seem fair to drag him into those mixed emotions, knowing he had mixed feelings of his own.

Did I just get the brush-off?

Never one to shy away from a confrontation, Troy was calling her out as usual.

Of course not. Dinner tonight?

The next reply came back so quickly she didn’t even have time to place the phone back on her desk. The quick ping of her cell made her lips curl into a smile. Troy was eager to see her, eager to communicate. She liked that.

That can be arranged. 7:00? Chinese?

Elle pinched her lips together, remembering she needed to work on the pitch. This was too important to postpone. Her schedule the following day was packed with meetings, one in particular with the network stylist who was dressing everyone for the Globes. The show was in just two short weeks and everyone needed his or her attire. Arranging for sample gowns and tuxedos would take some time, and it was time to begin the process.

I just realized I need to work late. Any chance you can come here?

Elle clenched her teeth, worried Troy would again feel brushed off. When her cell pinged quickly, she breathed a sigh of relief.

I’ll bring food. Kung pao still your favorite?

Elle smiled, flattered he remembered.

With fried rice, please!

You got it. See you in a couple hours.

Elle settled in, opened her notebook, and dove into her ideas of the past, hoping to find something for her future.

Elle smelled the delicious aroma of the food before she saw her dinner date. Troy knocked on her office door before entering. Elle was taken aback at how handsome he looked after a long day in a hot pizza kitchen. As usual, he was wearing a polo shirt from the restaurant with khaki pants and sunglasses. There was something sexy in Troy’s simplicity. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. But his olive skin had deepened into a sumptuous tan, while natural highlights permeated his dark hair. When he removed his sunglasses, Elle peered into the gorgeous eyes she had missed for so long. When he saw her, he grinned, a dimple forming in his cheek.

Elle walked around the desk to greet him with a hug. He pulled her tight, wrapping his strong arms around her. Elle wasn’t short. In fact, being five feet ten, she was much taller than most of the women at the network. But Troy towered over her at six feet four, and she enjoyed the safety of his hugs. She loved that the top of her head nestled into his neck. She smelled oregano as he pulled her close. She was convinced Troy was the only man who could make Italian spices smell sexy.

“I’ve missed you,” she murmured into his chest, and she felt his arms pull her in just a bit tighter. It was a silent message received with no distortion. He missed her too. “I’m sorry you had to come down here, but I do have exciting news.”

Troy pulled back, locking eyes with Elle. “Oh yeah? Tell me.”

“Have a seat and I’ll fill you in.”

Elle walked to her desk chair and sat. Troy sat down as well, a warm smile on his face. Elle’s stomach fluttered as she revealed her exciting news. “The network wants me to create another show. They’d air back-to-back starting next fall. It’s an extraordinary opportunity.”

“Wow. That’s incredible, Rigby. What’s the show about?”

“That’s the problem. I have no idea. They need three ideas . . . by Friday.”

“Whoa, that’s . . . well, that’s not much time, is it?” Troy grimaced. “Now I see why you couldn’t go out.”

“Exactly.”

“Can I help? I mean, I know I’m not a creative type, but it could be fun.”

“Yes.” Elle nodded, blowing out a long breath and smiling. “That would be awesome, thank you.”

Troy leaned forward, lifting the white cartons of food from the brown paper sack. “First, you need sustenance. Full bellies lead to productive minds.”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“That’s a Saladino original. It’s how my mom got my sister to eat.”

“I like it.”

He shrugged, looking sheepish. “I’m glad.”

Elle narrowed her eyes as she watched Troy open the steaming cartons of food. This Troy was softer, more approachable and less confrontational than the Troy she spent time with only weeks ago. Perhaps her absence made his heart grow fonder? Time would tell on that. Regardless, she was enjoying their time together already and was so glad he contacted her.

Elle reached for the nearest carton, peering into the container. “You remembered.”

“How could I forget? You never let me order Chinese without crab rangoon. I can’t vouch for this place, though. I haven’t tried it yet.”

“I have. It’s good stuff.” Elle had forgotten to ask him to purchase her favorite appetizer and was blown away Troy remembered anyway. They both remembered so much. But was that enough to move forward? She wasn’t sure. Regardless, the gesture was important to her and she savored it with each bite of the crunchy wontons filled with sweet cream cheese and crabmeat.

“What about a hospital show? People love that stuff.”

Elle grimaced. “There are so many of those, though. Don’t you think?”

“True. I guess I shouldn’t suggest one set in a law firm, huh?” Troy bit down on his bottom lip, widening his eyes and raising his eyebrows toward the ceiling.

“Yeah. I’d like to do something no one’s done. Like Follow the Sun—it was the first drama set in a casino. I need another idea like that, but different.”

“Gotcha. Hmm.” Troy used his chopsticks to scoop a cluster of rice into his mouth. Elle watched with butterflies in her stomach as he chewed. She always loved watching his jaw muscles as he ate. Troy noticed her lingering eye and interrupted her gaze. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

Elle giggled behind her hand, which clutched the carton of kung pao chicken. “No, sorry. I just . . . I like watching you eat.” She could feel her cheeks reddening with her revelation. Thank God they had known each other for more than two decades and he wouldn’t think she was crazy.

“Oh, Rigby.” He shook his head, a smug grin on his handsome face.

“What?”

“What am I gonna do with you?”

Elle’s breath caught and her heart raced. They sat, staring at one another. Elle had no idea what to say to break the tension. But their staring contest was interrupted by a knock on her office door.

“Elle?”

Luke opened the door, his mouth dropping as he took in the sight of Elle and Troy sharing a meal in her office. “Oh, um . . . sorry to disturb.”

Elle jumped to her feet, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Luke, what—what are you doing here?”

“I’m heading out and I—well, I wanted to say hello. But obviously I’m interrupting, so—” Luke broke eye contact with Elle and her heart sank. She hated putting both of these men in such a precarious situation. Yes, she was honest with both of them. Each of them knew about the other and his presence in her life. But that didn’t keep the guilt at bay. She and Luke were not on the best of terms, but they weren’t exactly over either. Not officially anyway.

“Troy, will you excuse me?”

Troy closed his eyes and sighed, nodding as he looked down at the carton of food in his hands. Elle stood and followed Luke out of the office. When she closed the door behind them, Luke ran his fingers through his hair, looking perplexed, and agitated.

“So you made your choice then?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to, but at least I get it now. The thing with Gina was a great escape clause for you, wasn’t it?”

“What are you saying?”

“You’ve been looking for excuses to push me away, Elle. Admit it—ever since we met. I’m using you, all I want is fame, I’m sleeping with Gina, I’m lying to you, the list goes on and on. But guess what? None of it’s true.”

Elle crossed her arms in front of her chest, feeling Luke’s words penetrate her heart. The sincere tone in his voice made her question everything she thought she knew, everything she assumed to be the truth about the actor.

“You and me on that hammock—that’s what’s true, Elle. That’s what’s real. Even if you can’t see it.” He pointed toward the door. “You can hide in your memories, hide in your regrets. But I won’t be a part of it anymore.”

Panic spread throughout her body as she watched his eyes moisten. He was fuming, yes, but it was clear he was also heartbroken. The thought of Luke taking his affection, his love, away from her was unbearable. A lump formed in her throat. “What are you saying?”

“I’m done.”

“What?” Elle shrieked, her eyes bulging, her heart plummeting to her feet.

“I can’t do this. I’ve been so concerned about your heart, your feelings, that I’ve ignored my own. So I’m done. Call me when you come to your senses.”

That final comment made irrational anger fill her from head to toe.

“Come to my senses?” she sneered. “Why don’t you call me when you’re done playing games, Luke? Call me when you’re done being Gina’s pawn, when you’re done counting your goddamn Twitter followers, and seeking out paparazzi at the Ivy.”

“Whatever.” He shook his head, his lips pressed in a thin line. “Do you even know who I am?”

Elle drew her head back in disgust. “Oh. My. God. How big has your ego gotten? I’m shocked you even fit through my door!”

Once again, he shook his head, and with a snarl in his voice, he leaned in close. “That’s not what I meant. But you just answered my question, didn’t you? You don’t know me at all.”

Elle looked down at the floor. Conflicting feelings of anger and sadness swirled together, leaving her breathless and unable to protest Luke’s claims. She knew him just fine, thank you very much. Just because he was in denial about his fame-seeking behavior didn’t make her the bad guy. He knew about Troy—she was honest about that from the beginning. If he was willing to throw everything away over a couple of cartons of Chinese food, then that was on his shoulders, not hers.

“Have a nice dinner.”

Luke pressed his knuckles into the door frame before turning his back on Elle and walking down the long hallway. Elle closed her eyes, anger and frustration growing by the second within her mind. She couldn’t go after him since Troy was waiting in her office. And even if she did, she had no idea what to say. He said he was done—what was the point of chasing after someone who obviously gave up on her?

With a new sense of purpose, Elle took several deep breaths and entered her office, slamming the door behind her. Troy stood, concern plastered across his face.

“Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.”

Troy took a deep breath and walked to Elle, taking her hands in his. “Listen, I suppose this is as good a time as any. I know I’ve been indecisive . . . I know I’ve put you through the wringer. And I know I should’ve told you about Amanda.”

Elle looked away, unable to handle back-to-back confrontations. She felt as if the world were playing with her mind, with her heart. Was it possible she would lose both men in just a matter of minutes? If her temper took over as it did with Luke, that was a distinct possibility.

“It’s fine,” she said, looking away, doing her best not to be defensive and urging her tears to stay at bay.

“No, Rigby, I’m done with that.”

She flinched at the word done. Hearing that word from Luke’s mouth had pierced something inside of her, something that might never heal.

“What I mean is, I want to give this a real shot, a real chance. No more punishments or smug comments. No more passive-aggressive bullshit. I want to try to see what’s still here between us.”

Elle was stunned. Hope emerged from the heartbreak within her, and she managed a weak smile. Words failed her, but she stared at Troy with her mouth agape and tears building in her eyes. Tears of relief.

“I can’t tell—are you happy? Disgusted?” A nervous laugh left his lips. “Put me out of my misery, Rigby. Say something, please.”

Elle took a deep breath, looked into Troy’s eyes, and said the first thing that popped into her head. “Want to be my date to the Golden Globes?”

I don’t know,” Elle grumbled, turning her body in front of the full-length mirror. Pressed to her chest was a navy blue dress made almost entirely of lace, with a tight bodysuit underneath. “This is more suited for someone like Gina, don’t you think?”

Eve, the petite network stylist with blonde hair and bright blue eyes, nodded in solidarity as she leaned against a table in the large conference room. For two days, Eve had set up shop in the room. Racks of designer dresses filled the room, and mirrors leaned against the gray walls.

“I suppose so, but you should consider something just as hot. What about this one?” She held up a black strapless gown, designed by Christian Dior, with a mermaid hem and a skirt comprised of elegant rosettes, a ribbon-like belt adorning the formfitting waist. Elle was drawn to the gown’s sexy sophistication and exquisite fabric. It would reach the floor, and yet be just as sultry and seductive as the tiny lace number since the sweetheart neckline would accentuate her chest.

“I’ll try it on.” This was her second appointment with the stylist, and Elle had inspected over a dozen dresses in that time. This was the first she was actually considering for the Golden Globes, which was fast approaching.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Eve grinned, a dimple forming in her cheek as she handed the dress to Elle. “Where is Whitney? She was supposed to be here ten minutes ago.”

Elle sighed. “She’s probably avoiding me.”

“Why’s that?” When Elle cringed, Eve stopped herself, holding her hand out in a dismissive motion. “Never mind. I’m out of my element.”

“No, it’s fine.” Elle slipped behind the makeshift dressing room composed of a portable curtain. She felt like Daniel LaRusso in The Karate Kid when he was wearing his shower curtain Halloween costume. “Things are just weird. You know how things go. We don’t always see eye to eye.”

“Um, Elle—” Eve attempted to interrupt but Elle continued.

“She’s ridiculously stubborn, so—”

“Um, excuse me? I’m the one who’s stubborn? I gave you my opinion and you shut me out completely.”

Whitney.

Elle froze behind the curtain. Her bra was off and the dress was only halfway up her mostly naked body.

“Whit?” Quickly she pulled the dress to cover her breasts and waddled from the dressing room, constricted by the mermaid skirt. Perhaps this dress was not the right choice.

“Yeah, it’s me, your stubborn ass of a best friend.” Whitney rolled her dark eyes and crossed her arms in front of her chest. She glared at Elle, who sheepishly bit on her bottom lip and shrugged.

“I’m sorry, and you’re not an ass. Can we just, I don’t know, make up or something?”

“You’re the one who left me alone in a booth after I got my heart trampled. You tell me.” Whitney turned on her heels and walked to a rack of size six dresses. The hangers squeaked against the metal bar of the rack as Whitney tore through the dresses. Elle toddled across the conference room to join Whitney by the rack of clothes. Eve quickly pulled the zipper so the dress fit snugly around Elle’s hips. The dress was comfortable, but her concern was Whitney. She had to make peace with her favorite person in the world.

“I screwed up, okay? I’m the stubborn ass. You were looking out for me, and I just—I didn’t want to hear it.”

“Fine. Whatever, it’s done.”

Elle grimaced. “It doesn’t sound done.” Whitney pulled a lilac chiffon dress from the rack and held it out for Elle, who immediately shook her head. “Doesn’t go with your skin tone.”

“True.” Whitney returned it to the rack. “I didn’t expect that from you, Ellie. We’ve always been brutally honest with each other. And this time, you treated me like the bad guy. I’m not the bad guy. I love you like a sister.”

Whitney pulled a garnet Versace gown from the rack. Cap sleeves, godet pleats on the floor-length skirt, and a boat neckline; it was stunning and the perfect dress for Whitney. Elle nodded emphatically before responding. “I love you, too. I was wrong. I promise it’ll never happen again.”

“Good. Now tell me what’s happening with the Globes. Has Luke bought a tux yet?”

Elle flinched at the question. She had no idea what Luke had done to prepare for the award show.

“Uh-oh. No. Tell me you two didn’t—”

Elle nodded, looking up at the ceiling, refusing to cry over the man who placed a rather large hole in her heart. “He’s done with me. Aside from work, I haven’t spoken to him in over a week.”

“Wait. He said you were worth waiting for . . . those were his exact words.”

Elle grabbed the clothing rack, holding on for support. “I know. But I guess he’s done waiting.”

Whitney placed the gown back on the rack and wrapped her arms around Elle. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks.” Her voice cracked with that single word and she knew the tears were coming. Quickly she retreated back to the makeshift dressing room. Eve unzipped the gown and Elle slid it from her body, placing it back on the hanger. “I’ll take this one, Eve.”

“Very good, Ms. Riley.” Eve placed Elle’s dress choice on a rack marked with index cards, labeling who would be dressed in which designer’s gown. Whitney pursed her lips before retrieving the red gown and slipping behind the curtain.

“Maybe he just needs to cool off. I’m sure when he sees you on the red carpet, he’ll flip. He’ll remember why he’s crazy about you.”

“I don’t know about that.” Elle stood outside the curtain, dragging her fingers mindlessly down the polyester fabric of the curtain.

Whitney emerged from the dressing room and stood before the mirror. Eve zipped her up and placed her hand over her mouth. Elle stood behind her and managed a genuine smile as she took in the sight of Whitney in that dress. “Wow.”

“Yeah?” Whitney asked, smoothing down the fabric and gazing in the mirror. “First one I tried. What are the chances of that?”

Eve glanced at Elle, then back at Whitney. “Slim to none.”

“So tell me what happened. Why did he give up?” Whitney and Elle locked eyes while gazing into the full-length mirror. “Something had to happen . . . right?”

“He walked in on Troy and me . . . in my office.”

Whitney turned, her eyes wide. “You weren’t . . .”

“No, God no! We were just having dinner.”

“You two certainly like to eat a lot,” Whitney said with a sardonic laugh. “Pizza, Indian, and now . . .”

“Chinese.” Elle closed her eyes, shaking her head. She and Troy did eat on their dates. First they flirted over food, then they argued, and they usually followed that up with a makeup session and vows to do better. History was repeating itself in a major way—that pattern was the story of their relationship, their dynamic. Add in some cherished Beatles songs, and you had Elle and Troy in a nutshell. She shook off that thought as she waited for Whitney to respond. But the outspoken beauty was gritting her teeth as she stared at Elle with conflicted eyes.

“Whit? What’s wrong?”

“I’m afraid to say anything after last time. I don’t want to fight with you.”

“I won’t get mad, I swear.”

“Just be careful. You two have a history, an undeniably rocky history. Don’t lose Luke over this.”

Elle threw her arms up in defeat. “I don’t have a choice, Whit. He’s done. Done. You have no idea how much that word killed me. I have to move on, and Troy wants to give us a real shot. I’d be stupid to walk away from that . . . wouldn’t I?”

“I suppose you’re right.” She shrugged. “I guess it’s time to hang up my Team Luke shirt, huh?”

A weak laugh left Elle’s lips as her eyes welled with tears. “Yeah, I think so. I’m sure he’ll miss having you as president of the fan club.”

As if on cue, Elle’s phone pinged, and she raised her eyebrows for permission to leave the conversation. Whitney nodded and retreated to the dressing room as Elle checked her phone.

It was a text from Troy.

Can’t stop thinking about you.

She smiled. Knowing she was on his mind was a comforting thought. One she cherished and appreciated. She pressed the phone to her chest just as Whitney emerged from the dressing room and handed the gown to Eve.

“Vegas?”

Elle nodded. “We’ve seen each other a couple of times since everything went down with Luke. It’s been nice.”

“Have you slept with him yet?” Whitney pressed.

Elle cringed at the question and shook her head. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Eve scurried across the room, busying herself with the hanging dresses. Obviously Whitney’s frank nature was making her uncomfortable and Elle couldn’t blame her. Elle was part of the conversation and her discomfort was through the roof.

“Not yet.”

“How come?”

“We’re taking things slow—figuring out what we want.”

Whitney narrowed her eyes.

“What?”

“Well, I mean . . . what are you waiting for? Ten years of tension—you two must be going out of your minds.”

Elle was shocked to realize she didn’t feel that way at all. “It was like that in the beginning,” she said, remembering the evening he pressed her against the brick of the Indian restaurant. “But not anymore. We’re just being patient with each other.”

“I see.” Whitney’s lips pressed into a thin line. Elle could read her mind easily. She wasn’t buying it. But instead of getting defensive, Elle shared something she thought Whitney would appreciate.

“You’ll meet him at the Globes.”

Instead of an excited smile, her best friend glared at her. “Wait. You’re bringing him?”

“Well, yeah.”

“To the Globes?”

“Yes, Whitney. I’m bringing Troy as my date to the Globes.”

“But Luke will be sitting at the same table. Don’t you think that’s a little cruel?”

Elle crossed her arms, tilting her chin toward the ceiling. “He broke my heart. Don’t you think that’s a little cruel?”

“Oh my God . . . you’re trying to hurt him, aren’t you? You’re trying to make him jealous.” Whitney’s eyes widened, but instead of anger, she appeared proud of Elle. “You little tart! This is brilliant.”

“No, you don’t understand, I’m not trying to do anything to Luke. I just want Troy to come with me, to experience the Globes.”

“Uh-huh.” Whitney pursed her lips, then winked. “I understand completely. And just for the record, I’d do the exact same thing if I were in your shoes. If I could find a date to piss off Nolan, I totally would. But I’m afraid that’s not in the cards. Mind if I borrow Luke?”

Elle glared at Whitney.

“Kidding, kidding!”

Elle knew there was no sense in arguing with Whitney over her intentions in inviting Troy to the award show. And if she was being honest with herself, there was a part of her that would delight in making Luke regret his decision to walk away from her. She didn’t want to use Troy, or exact revenge. Her feelings for him were genuine, and she would never hurt him intentionally. But the hole Luke left was significant and the idea of regaining the upper hand in that scenario was too enticing to reject.

She could only hope sitting at a table with Luke, Troy, Gina, Whitney, and Nolan would not be the most uncomfortable four hours of her life. But somehow, she knew it would be exactly that.