Elliot, Song of the Soulmate (Love Austen 5)

“It’s about more than body shape, Louisa.”

“But it is that too, often.” She cocked her head. “Do you like your men bigger and broader like Wentworth, here?”

Elliot couldn’t speak.

Wentworth was quiet too for a few beats, then he laughed tightly. “The silence says everything, doesn’t it? He doesn’t want to offend me by saying no. Don’t worry, Elliot. You can’t offend me.” Anymore. “I wouldn’t go for you either.”

Louisa laughed.

Elliot rose abruptly, chair screeching. “I, ah, it’s my round.”

He ordered everyone’s favourite, glad it took the bartender a long time so he could control the sting in his eyes.

He glanced back at Wentworth regaling them with one of his stories, Louisa now on his thigh . . .

He busied himself helping the bartender place the beers and cocktails on the tray, relishing the cold of the dewy glass as it momentarily broke through his thoughts.

He counted the drinks, and was relieved he’d forgotten one. He ordered it and waited. He had the peculiar feeling of being watched. Oh, it was Wentworth, that he could feel in the shiver down his spine, but why was he looking so long? Was he cataloguing just how much he’d changed with age? Was he trying to see through the ruins to the body, the face that he’d once kissed every inch of? Once found attractive?

Drinks ready, no excuses to linger longer, he hefted the tray and moved to their table. Wentworth had turned his head, Louisa was no longer on his lap, and their hushed conversation drifted over to him as he drew closer.

Wentworth, asking the others if Elliot had many friends. Good friends, that was.

They were quiet. Heat flashed across his cheeks. Except . . . he did have friends. The truest kind. The kind that had seen the best and the worst and still brunched with him every weekend. The people who had fallen silent now, unsure how to answer Wentworth’s covert pry, had known him for three weeks only. How could they know?

Elliot set down the tray and doled out the drinks. “I’ll just return the tray.”

Wentworth pushed his chair out. “Sit. I can do it.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.” He fled toward the bar again, and once he was there wondered why he hadn’t taken more time.

“Back so soon?”

Elliot glanced up at the bartender. He was tall and dark-skinned, his hair cropped short at the sides, stylishly messy in the centre. His eyes were dark and twinkling with humour, his lips twitching into a dimpled smile. He really was attractive, and the wink . . .

It’d been a while since anyone had flirted with him, and the attention felt . . . distracting. Elliot smiled. “You’re beautiful, but I don’t go for guys anymore.”

“Anymore? Bad breakup?”

“You could say that.”

“Pity.”

“Oh, you won’t be single long with a smile like that,” Elliot said. “It just won’t be me who falls for it.”

“Sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

Elliot returned to their table, step stuttering as he caught Wentworth staring. He was supposed to pull his gaze away by now.

“Who was that?” Wentworth asked under his tongue.

“No one.”

“He was laughing at something you said.”

Elliot side-eyed him and lifted his orange juice. “I’m a witty guy.”

“Hey, Elliot?” Louisa interrupted. “We were thinking of taking a hike this weekend. Over the Eastern Walkway loop, through the town belt to the ridge and back. Did you want to join us?”

“As long as you’re not asking out of pity because you believe I have no friends.”

They went quiet again.

Wentworth let out a breath.

Elliot looked at him, keeping his expression neutral. “It would have to be Saturday, I have a standing brunch date on Sundays I can’t miss. We’re talking wedding stuff and it’s not that long to the big day. In spring.”

“Must be something in the water. Dad and his boyfriend are also talking about a big wedding they’re going to in Spring.”

“Maybe the same one? Who’s your dad?” Elliot asked.

“Darcy Tilney—”

“Wait, Darcy’s your dad? Bennet sometimes comes to brunch.”

Henry laughed, delighted. “Small world, isn’t it?”

“I went to high school with Finley, he and Bennet are close—”

Wentworth turned. “Finley? You’re still friends?”

“Yes. He’s marrying Ethan.”

“Wait. Weren’t they brothers?”

“Step-brothers. And now almost-husbands. The wedding’s in a few months.”

Wentworth frowned, like he was trying to piece together the years apart. Trying to figure out when this grown-up friendship with their high school comrades might have been forged.

“Their first house together was next door—before Mary moved in. We were neighbours for a few years. That’s where it started.”

“Right. Wow. Are you going alone?”

That seemed like an interesting jump. Elliot didn’t allow himself to get carried away with it. “It wasn’t my plan to. I have a plus one.”

“Who’s your plus one?”

Elliot looked at him squarely. “Not sure yet. Are you offering?”

Wentworth jerked his head to his drink. “Maybe your bartender friend will go with you.”