Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“Good.” I was weirdly touched that she’d used those particular words, that I’d made her feel safe. Had I ever made anyone feel safe?
“It was the acknowledgment that no matter what things are like on the surface, our history runs deep. I felt like you were being truthful when you said I matter to you.”
“I was.”
“So that’s what pushed me over the edge—the notion that you’d never really do anything to hurt me, and you’d protect me if it came down to it.”
I swallowed. “I would.”
Except now I was thinking about something—that stupid offer from Fiona Duff. I hadn’t told Ellie about it. Was that the same as a lie? Would she see it as a betrayal? Would it hurt her to know that I’d kept that to myself?
“Ellie, I have to tell you something.”
“What?” Her voice was sleepy.
I swallowed, then spoke quickly. “Fiona Duff offered me the final spot on the 30 Under 30 List. And—and the cover of that issue of Tastemaker.”
It took her a second to process it, and then she sat up. “What? When?”
“When she gave me the check for tonight. You were already in the car, and she and her daughter ambushed me.”
“Why didn’t you say something earlier?”
I sat up too. “I don’t know. You were so upset already, and it seemed like it would be adding insult to injury. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”
“Until you fucked me.”
“Ellie, don’t,” I said forcefully. “You know that’s not true.”
“I don’t know what’s true right now.” Her voice had grown softer, quieter. Sadder.
“You can scream at me if you want,” I told her, half hoping she would.
“What good would that do?”
“I don’t know. Make you feel better?”
“It won’t. I wish it would, but it won’t. The truth is, I wasn’t impressive enough to get the gig. You were.”
“The circumstances going in weren’t equal,” I argued. “It wasn’t a level playing field.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“I told Fiona I wouldn’t do it.”
She shook her head. “Gianni, don’t be stupid. Take the spot.”
“No.”
“It’ll be good for you—and for Etoile.”
I hesitated. “That’s the only reason I’d do it. For Etoile. For Abelard. If you thought it would help.”
“I’m sure it would.” She sighed. “It’ll be great publicity for the summer rush.”
“Right. Summer. It’s just . . .” I ran a hand through my hair. “I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be at Etoile.”
Ellie gathered the blankets closer to her chest. “You’re leaving? Already?”
Exhaling, I leaned back against the headboard. “I had an offer for another show, and if I take it, I’d have to leave by the end of March.”
“Another reality show?”
“Yes.”
She was silent a moment. “When did you get this offer?”
“A couple weeks ago.”
“You’ve known for weeks that you’re leaving at the end of March and you’re just telling me this now?”
“I haven’t decided whether to accept or not. I’m still thinking, and I want to talk to your parents. I don’t want them to think I’m abandoning Etoile.”
“Well, that’s exactly what they’ll think because that’s what you’re doing!”
“Ellie, come on. This is a hard choice for me to make. You know I love Etoile and being in the kitchen.”
“I don’t know anything for certain right now. A moment ago, I thought I did—and then you started talking, and everything turned upside down.”
“I haven’t decided anything yet. And I was going to talk to you about it.”
“Well, now you have.” She thumped a hip into the mattress and turned away from me, gathering the covers at her shoulder and scooting to the farthest edge of the mattress. “Goodnight.”
“Can’t we talk about this some more?”
“There’s nothing to talk about. If you want to do the show, do the show. And you’d be stupid to turn down Fiona’s offer.”
“I don’t want it.”
“It’s a great opportunity, Gianni.” Her tone was insistent. “And I refuse to be the reason you say no. Take her offer and go back to Hollywood. It’s where you belong. It’s what you want.”
“And you’ll never speak to me again?” At the thought, my chest grew painfully tight. “Is that it?”
“I’ll speak to you as long as we’re working together. And when you leave, you won’t care anyway.”
“Yes, I will, Ellie. That was my whole point tonight.”
She looked over her shoulder. “About having my back?”
“Well . . . yes.”
She turned away from me again. “Go to sleep, Gianni.”
“I can’t. Not if you’re mad at me.”
“Oh, Jesus. I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself. Now will you sleep?”
I wanted to keep talking, but what would be the point? In her eyes, I’d won a prize that she’d coveted, I was abandoning her family, and I’d hidden it all from her until right after we’d had sex—and all of it confirmed the idea she’d had about me from day one. I was kicking myself for confessing it all tonight, although I wasn’t sure it would have gone any better if I’d waited. Actually, it might have gone worse.