Red Carpet Kiss

by Melissa Brown

  “Right,” Elle muttered, her fingers tapping the desk at a frantic pace. “Thank you for your help.”

  Mortified and forlorn, Elle pulled her robe tight to her chest and walked past the elevators to the stairwell. Slowly, she made her way up the stairs, her mind blank and defeated. When she reached her room, she stripped herself down and entered the shower, turning the water as hot as she could handle. She stood in the scorching hot stream and sobbed, her hands pressed against the glass of the shower. She knew he wouldn’t return. She knew it was over.

  Her skin was red and splotchy when she emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. Her sopping wet hair dripped down her back as she curled up in a ball on the bed. When she grew cold, she spotted his bathrobe draped over a chair. She wrapped the soft terry cloth around her shaky body and inhaled the residue of his cologne. She sobbed while watching the door, hoping he’d walk through it, until finally she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

  The next morning, alone and defeated, Elle boarded the plane to Chicago, staring at the empty seat for the duration of the flight. Her eyes were bone dry, unable to cry anymore.

  When she arrived at O’Hare Airport, she climbed into a cab, directing the driver to Troy’s apartment. She had to see him.

  She climbed the stairs of his building, leaned her luggage against the wall, and knocked on the door. She held her breath as the sound of footsteps approaching grew louder. She could see his feet through the crack of light at the bottom of the door. Just as she pondered what to say, those feet moved out of sight, and once again Elle could hear footsteps.

  He was walking away.

  Elle pounded on the door. “Troy! Troy, please open the door.”

  Silence.

  Tears sprang from her eyes as she pounded relentlessly against the harsh wood, but no one answered. Embarrassed and exhausted, Elle slid to sit on the floor, her head tapping against the wood.

  “Troy, I’m sorry. Please don’t do this.”

  After an hour of sitting in Troy’s dirty hallway, Elle pulled herself to her feet and gripped her luggage, dragging it down the stairs and into a cab.

  Later that week, Elle arrived home after an exhausting day at work to find an unmarked envelope lying in the entryway.

  A certificate of annulment signed by Troy.

  It was over. She got what she thought she wanted.

  But all she wanted was to go back. To go back to the woman who lay in a heap on the bathroom floor. She’d tell that woman to snap out of it, to embrace her new life with her new husband. To embrace the possibilities of their life as a married couple. She’d tell that miserable, terrified girl to grow up, to appreciate what she had before it was gone.

  But she couldn’t go back.

  And now, just like Troy’s, her heart was ripped to shreds. And she’d never be the same.

  Whoa.”

  Whitney leaned forward in her chair and clutched a Twizzler with both hands. She stared at Elle in disbelief and Elle wanted to hide her head in shame from her best friend. She couldn’t imagine what Whitney must have been thinking about her behavior in Vegas.

  “I tried, Whit. I tried to get him back.”

  Whitney sat up straight and wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “You did?”

  Elle nodded and tears formed in her eyes all over again. “After I went to his place, I sent him e-mails, left voice mail messages, wrote letters, and taped notes to his door. It never mattered. He changed his phone number, his e-mail address, everything. There was nothing I could do.”

  “It was too late.” Whitney’s voice was a sharp whisper.

  “He was done.” She’d hear the shuffling of feet, and someone would stand, look through the peephole, and then walk away. And her heart broke more and more each time until finally she couldn’t even bear the thought of crossing the threshold of his building.

  “So you filed the annulment papers?”

  Elle sniffed, then wiped her eyes and nose with a tissue. “I had to, Whit. I had this idea the first time I went there. I was going to bring them with me, tear them up, beg his forgiveness. But he didn’t answer the door. And eventually, I stopped putting them in my purse whenever I went there. There was no use.”

  “Oh, honey.” Whitney placed her hand over her heart and tilted her head. “My heart is breaking. I can’t believe you held on to this for ten years.”

  Elle was quiet for a moment. “Wouldn’t you?”

  Whitney closed her eyes and nodded. “Yeah, I guess I would. But I still don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell him you needed more time? Why did you walk down that aisle?”

  “I’ve thought about this for years. Literally years. The honest answer is, I didn’t want to disappoint him. The year we dated, I’m not kidding, was blissful. Perfect. If I’d said no that morning, everything would have changed. I loved him, Whit. I always wanted him.”

  “But not enough.”

  Elle cringed. “I guess not.”

  “But now he’s back.”

  “Yeah, he’s back and my life’s in a tailspin. I have no idea what to do.”

  “Do you still have feelings for him?”

  “I don’t think I ever stopped having feelings for him.”

  “So maybe this is your chance. People come into our lives for a reason. Maybe this is your second chance at happiness, Ellie.”

  “I don’t know. Part of me wants to think so, but I just—”

  “Is it Luke? Is that the problem?”

  Elle thought about the handsome actor, the one who calmed her but challenged her as well. The one who made her knees buckle and her toes tingle. Of course, he was a factor in her hesitation.

  “Yeah. I mean, we’re not exclusive, but the thought of him being with Gina . . . or anyone else really, it makes me want to punch something. Hard.” A knot formed in Elle’s belly just at the thought of Gina and Luke together.

  “So tell him. Tell him you want to be monogamous.”

  “I don’t know . . .” Her voice trailed off as she stared down at her desk.

  “Because of Troy. You want to see what might happen.”

  “Maybe, yeah. I just feel—unsettled. My head is in a daze, and not in a good way. The idea of betraying either of them makes me sick to my stomach.”

  “You listen to me, you’re a grown woman. There is nothing wrong with exploring this. You owe it to yourself to see what you want. Not what Troy wants or what Luke wants. But what you want.”

  “What if Troy’s right about me? What if I can never commit to anyone else? Am I gonna end up some crazy old maid who writes about romance, but who has absolutely no idea what she’s talking about?”

  “Okay, bite your tongue. No one even says ‘old maid’ anymore. And have you ever thought maybe you just can’t commit yourself to him?”

  “I’ve considered it.”

  “But . . . ?”

  “But I felt guilty. Troy’s wonderful. I mean seriously, there’s no one better.”

  “Honey, he could be the most perfect person on the planet, but if he’s not the guy for you, that’s all that matters. Stop. Feeling. Guilty.”

  Elle leaned her elbows on the desk, hanging her head in her hands. “If only . . .”

  Elle heard Whitney rise to her feet to stand behind her. She stroked Elle’s back gently with her hand. “What am I gonna do with you?”

  “Put me to sleep,” Elle joked. “Put me out of my misery.”

  “Nah. You’re stronger than that. You’re the strongest person I know.”

  “Me?” Elle’s eyebrows pinched together. “You need to get out more.”

  “I’m serious, Ellie. You’re a strong, intelligent, creative woman. Yes, you’ve made mistakes. Yes, you hurt someone you never intended to hurt. You’re human, irrevocably human.”

  Elle stood, wiped her face, and sank into Whitney’s arms. “Thank you for being you.”

  “I love you, honey. You’ll figure this out.”

  “And if I don’t?”


  “You will.”

  Elle’s moment of comfort in Whitney’s arms was short-lived when Nicole buzzed.

  “Elle, Luke Kingston is here to see you.”

  “Oh God,” Elle murmured into Whitney’s shoulder.

  “He doesn’t know any of this, does he?” Whitney handed her the box of tissue; Elle eagerly grabbed a tissue and dabbed her face. She didn’t want Luke to see her like this.

  “No.”

  Elle pressed against the intercom button. “Please send him in.”

  “No time like the present,” Whitney said, walking to the door. “Text me later. Let me know how you’re doing, all right?”

  Luke opened the door, giving Elle a conflicted expression the moment he saw her tears. She knew it was time to be completely honest with him, even if it meant he ran as far away from her as possible. He and Whitney exchanged pleasantries before Whitney vacated the office. As soon as the door clicked behind her, Luke crossed the room to Elle, wrapping an arm around her.

  “Baby, what’s going on? You’ve been crying.”

  “I know. And I know I should tell you—”

  “So tell me.”

  “It’s . . . it’s difficult.”

  “Listen to me, I can handle it. I promise.” He pulled away, his hands still holding her arms. “Things have been different with you. Tell me what’s going on. I feel like you’re slipping through my fingers.”

  “I don’t mean to, I just—I’m not sure where to start.”

  Elle sat in her chair and Luke eased himself against her desk, placing his hands in his pockets. “Have I done something? I know you think I’ve gone Hollywood, but I—”

  “No, no.” Elle shook her head decisively. “This isn’t about that. It’s about me. About what I did, a long time ago.”

  Luke flinched, but then his expression relaxed. “Knowing you, you’re being too hard on yourself.”

  “Maybe you should wait until after you hear what I did. You might change your mind.”

  “Fine. Hit me.” Luke smiled his boyish grin, and Elle knew right then and there she was safe with him. She could tell him anything, even what she did in Vegas.

  “The owner of the restaurant . . .”

  “Your ex-boyfriend.”

  “Actually, he was my husband.”

  Luke’s eyes widened.

  “It was brief,” she added quickly, “but . . . it happened.”

  Luke rubbed his chin with his fingertips. “Didn’t expect that, but okay. I don’t care that you were married—is that what you were worried about?”

  “It’s more complicated than that. We did it on a whim, after dating for a while. And I broke it off almost immediately, like less than two days later. We were in Vegas and it was a mess. I hurt him so badly, Luke. More than I’ve ever hurt anyone.”

  “Why did you marry him? You know, if you didn’t really want to?”

  “I got all wrapped up in it, I guess. I didn’t want the relationship to end, but that’s exactly what happened. He couldn’t forgive me and cut off contact for ten years.”

  “Ten years? Ouch.”

  “I thought he was still in Chicago. The last place in the world I expected him to be was here.”

  “Maybe he followed you.” Luke raised his eyebrows and leaned his head forward, his lips pressed into a thin line. Was he being protective of her? If so, despite the fact she knew he was way off base in his assumption, she liked it. She liked him being protective of her. It was sexy, yet subtle.

  “No, he didn’t. He was just as shocked as I was.” Elle studied Luke’s expression. He didn’t seem convinced. “If you knew Troy, you’d know he had no intention of ever seeing me again. He has a child and her mother relocated. That’s the only reason he’s here.”

  Luke pulled Elle from the chair, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling into her neck. A delicious shiver ran down her spine. Luke in protective mode was possibly the sexiest Luke she’d yet to encounter. She wanted to lose herself in his embrace as she always did.

  “There’s more. The show you’re working on is, for all intents and purposes, our story. He’s Desmond and I’m Molly.”

  Luke pulled back, running his hand through his hair and glancing around Elle’s office. “Wait, so you’re telling me this . . . all of this is about him?”

  Elle looked down at the carpet. “Yes.”

  “Are you still in love with the guy?”

  “What?” Elle asked, taken aback. She had no idea how to answer that question tactfully. She’d never stopped having feelings for Troy. And part of her wondered if she ever would. “Are you seriously asking me that?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is ridiculous.” Elle returned to her chair and swiveled to open her desk drawer, retrieving a pen and paper, doing whatever she could to avoid the question. Luke grabbed the arm of her chair and brought her back to center. Once again, they locked eyes. The air in Elle’s lungs seemed to fly from her chest.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” Luke said, gritting his teeth.

  “Are you . . . jealous?” The corner of Elle’s mouth pulled up into a curious smile. She wanted to savor this moment with Luke, to forget the pain and anguish she’d caused herself and Troy.

  Luke cocked his head to the side. “And what if I am?”

  Elle scrunched her lips, enjoying this side of the carefree actor. Jealous Luke was even sexier than Protective Luke. She was never one to make men jealous, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t savor Luke’s reaction. It made her ridiculously happy. As much as she fought it, a large grin crossed her face as they stared into each other’s eyes.

  “Look,” Luke continued, his expression still serious, “I don’t trust him. He left you behind and never looked back. He’s a moron.”

  “Didn’t you hear my story? I’m the moron. Me. I’m the one who destroyed him, not the other way around.”

  Luke pulled her gently from the chair and placed soft kisses on each of her cheeks. “Anyone who could walk away from you is an idiot. End of story. I don’t care what mistakes you made. If he knew you, really knew you, he wouldn’t have pushed. You have to do things on your own time.”

  Elle’s breath caught. She disagreed with Luke. She didn’t think Troy had pushed her. But she was astonished at how well Luke knew her—really knew her. He was right. Elle not only liked being in control, but doing things on her own time, her own schedule, was absolutely imperative for her comfort and happiness. It was her way, and the fact Luke understood that, that he respected it, was something to appreciate. Perhaps she wasn’t giving the handsome actor enough credit. Obviously, he understood her more than she’d ever anticipated.

  “You’re right. I don’t like to be pushed.”

  Luke licked his lips; his fingers ran south to Elle’s ass. Without warning, he reached down and hoisted her up. She gasped and wrapped her legs around his waist. He shifted his weight to turn them, perching Elle atop her desk. And for the first time that day, she allowed Troy to leave her mind completely. She was completely and utterly wrapped up in Luke Kingston.

  “Most of the time.” She raised a devious eyebrow before taking his mouth with her own. Luke’s hands roamed through her curly hair as his tongue pressed to hers. Her toes curled at the sensations overtaking her body. The touch, the feel of Luke was intoxicating and Elle couldn’t get enough of him. Eagerly, her tongue caressed his and her hands ran up and down his back, pulling him as close to her as possible.

  “Wanna get outta here?” he asked between kisses, his voice husky and deep. Elle could feel his length pressed against her pelvis, and she wanted to lose herself in him, to forget all of her mistakes, to take a break from reality.

  “Lock the door,” she whispered.

  A satisfied grin crossed Luke’s lips. “You never stop surprising me, Elle Riley.”

  “I hope that’s a good thing.”

  Luke nodded before kissing her lips, her chin, her neck. “The best.”

  Elle’s hea
rt thumped uncontrollably and shots of adrenaline zoomed through her abdomen. No matter how much positive self-talk she gave herself, the idea of seeing Troy was feeling like more than she could handle. After her drunken visit to his restaurant, they’d exchanged several text messages and agreed to meet for dinner on a Monday evening. Troy’s restaurant was closed on Mondays and it was the only time he could get away during the dinner hour. When he asked if he could pick the place, Elle agreed immediately. Troy always had such impeccable taste when it came to food and restaurants. She’d only been in the Los Angeles area for a few years, and aside from the takeout places near her home and the studio, she was still pretty clueless about local cuisine.

  Troy had chosen a tiny hole-in-the-wall Indian place. When she walked in, she inhaled the familiar scents. The smoky trace of cumin and the aromatic cardamom were the first she recognized. Next came the earthy tone of turmeric and the spicy smell of red pepper. She and Troy had eaten so much Indian food while living in Chicago since her apartment was above an Indian restaurant. Secretly, she wondered if that was the reason for his choice in restaurant. A walk down memory lane, perhaps? Regardless of the reason, Elle’s mind was swimming in memories of Troy and Indian food. Of laughter and samosas. Of romantic sentiments and tikka masala.

  Troy was waiting at a small table when she arrived. She glanced down at her watch, hoping she wasn’t late. Troy chuckled as she approached, standing to greet her with a kiss on the cheek.

  “You’re right on time.”

  “How do you do that?”

  “What?” Troy pulled the chair out for her.

  She smiled as she sat. “Read my mind.”

  “You looked at your watch the second you saw me.”

  “Oh.” Elle shook off her thoughts of kismet and serendipity. He had read her body language; that was all. “Of course. So you like this place?”

  “Yeah. It’s not as good as back home, but it’s close.” He gestured to the full wineglass in front of her place setting. “I ordered you a California rosé.”

  “Ah, perfect.” Elle took a large sip of the slightly sweet wine, which in her opinion paired beautifully with Indian cuisine. “How are the samosas?”