Page 41 of Come to Me

We go to an amazing restaurant in the village, swig way too many cocktails, and meet Ellen's weird, artsy friends for an off-off Broadway play. The star is great, one of Ellen's ex-boyfriends. We meet him for drinks after the play and he picks my brain about acting in Los Angeles.

Ellen insults him. It's traitorous to even think of moving to LA. Talking about it is practically treason.

"If you're lucky, the money's better," I point out.

Nicholas laughs, elbowing Ellen.

"She's got you there."

She huffs, sitting up straight.

"I'm not in it just for the money."

"Well, I like money," her friend interjects. "And acting. Why do they have to be mutually exclusive?"

That sets off a whole other round of debating.

Nicholas makes sure it doesn't get ugly, steering the conversation expertly.

I was right to come on a night that he was going out too.

And, like a gentleman, he even makes sure I get home safe.

"Thank you," I murmur when we reach the door to my building.

"No problem." He gives me a friendly hug before stepping back and continuing down the sidewalk. "See you tomorrow."

I wave, stepping inside.

It's beyond late when I finally fall into bed.

So late I forget to call Luke.

Chapter Ten

Luke

Idon't think much of it when we miss our first call.

We were never going to make it six months talking every single day. Not with the time difference on top of our hectic schedules.

It doesn't feel great, but it is what it is.

I bury myself at work. I run until I'm dead tired. I clean the damn house to keep my mind occupied.

Finally, some time around ten, Alyssa texts me.

Give me one minute. I want to get into something comfortable.

Shit.

I'm going to have a miserable time resisting her if she goes straight to dirty talk and slipping her clothes off.

I open my laptop and accept the incoming chat invitation.

The video pops on screen. It's a little box of Alyssa, in her bedroom, in that giant bed. She's wearing a tiny tank top and it clings to every one of her curves. She smiles, catching me checking her out.

Not that I'm trying to be discreet.