Elliot, Song of the Soulmate (Love Austen 5)

He flushed. Wentworth’s chair creaked, and Elliot glimpsed more of his profile.

“We’ve discussed this, Beth. My qualifications are very sound. And I would prefer,” he said, smile wavering, “if my private affairs weren’t speculated on so insensitively.”

She waved that away. “You’re old news now. Everyone is talking about, you know.”

“Wentworth McAllister?”

“Exactly.”

Wentworth swivelled around. “Someone say my name?”

As if he hadn’t been listening to every word.

Beth smiled, fluttering her eyelashes. “Everyone’s talking about you.”

Wentworth raised a brow. “What are they saying?”

“That you’re more gorgeous up close, and half the guys on set hope they’ll spark your interest.”

Wentworth’s features tightened, imperceptibly to anyone who didn’t know him well. “I’m afraid they’ll be disappointed. In my experience, men are not interested in longevity. They’re fickle and change their minds about how much they care. I’ve not dated a man in a long time and I don’t see that changing any time soon.”

Elliot dropped his pen and it clattered to the floor. He chased after it, hoping he might catch his stomach in the process.

“Oh!” Beth said, not at all disappointed. “The guys will be crushed. Us women, though. Well, what a boon.”

Between gritted teeth, Elliot said. “I doubt your husband would agree.”

She glared at him. “My husband and I are in an open relationship. He sleeps with whoever he likes, and so do I.”

Wentworth cleared his throat. “For myself I prefer monogamy.”

She pouted, but quickly shrugged it off.

Wentworth continued enthusiastically, “But I’m very ready for some lucky person to make a fool of me. Anyone between thirty and forty.” His gaze shifted to Elliot in a way that told him to pay close attention. “Someone who enjoys public affection and playful sex. Someone kind and generous and witty. Someone who would be committed to raising a family and living out our old age together. Someone capable of love.”

Elliot stared at his pen.

Then Wentworth rose, clapping his laptop shut and grabbing his wallet. “That’s my ideal partner. They don’t have to be perfect, but in their heart they must want me.”

Beth stood too. “Do you know anyone in town? Where are you staying? We can go for drinks after work if you’d like?”

“Thank you but I have plans. I used to live here—just taken over my old man’s boat—and tonight I’m visiting a dear friend of mine.”

“Is he famous too?”

“Dr Benwick works at the hospital, in the ER. His fans worship him. He saved their lives.”

“How do you know?” she asked.

Elliot dropped his pen again but this time he didn’t chase it. He shuddered at Wentworth’s parting words. “I’m one of his fans.”

Elliot walked Honey home, his stomach weighted from . . . the whole day.

I’m one of his fans.

Every girlfriend, every bad hair day, every milestone of Wentworth’s personal life had been blasted over magazine pages. “Bumblebee Breakup” played in every supermarket. Elliot had thought it painted a picture of how things had been for Wentworth after he’d left.

But . . .

He’d meant Dr Benwick had saved his life. His life.

His breath quickened and the cottages lining the street blurred. Honey sensed something, pawing his ankle.

Elliot leaned against a tree trunk, grip tight on Honey’s lead as he fumbled for his phone and called Ethan.

“Holy crap, Wentworth’s in town.”

Elliot startled. “You know?”

“Just saw it on Twitter. He’s working at Ask Austen . . . have you seen him?”

“Seen him.” He’s sharing my office. “Yes.”

“Do you need us to come over?”

“No, I . . . ah, I think I need to process it first. But . . . brunch. Noah’s this week?”

“That’s right.”

Elliot paused, and then quietly: “You knew me at high school. Do you think . . . am I so different?”

Brunch came and went, and for the next week Elliot and Wentworth were constantly in the same spaces. Only mornings were a reprieve, when Elliot worked scenes on set. Those hours flew by. The ones in the music room, on the other hand . . .

Nightly calls from his friends, reminders different could be good, kept him tethered to sanity that week.

Once so intimate with one another, so in tune. Now nothing. To think there’d been a point in their lives when they finished each other’s sentences.

Now they acted like strangers. Worse than strangers. They could never meet for the first time again. They hardly spoke, certainly nothing of substance, mostly Hi and Bye and Do you mind if I . . . Polite, though. Wentworth was that. It was painful.

To Honey . . . to Honey he was sweet and playful. Whenever Elliot left the room, Wentworth dropped to his knees and fussed over him.

Elliot had caught him on multiple occasions. Sensing Wentworth didn’t want it known just how much he loved the puppy in their office, he snuck back a few steps into the hall and made a commotion coming in.