Darcy in Hollywood

If he passed that hurdle and she was still speaking with him, he would ask her questions about her life, her family, and her ambitions. Over the past months, he had realized how little he knew about her life—a pretty pathetic showing for a woman he thought he was in love with.

He’d realized some things about himself as well. Realizations he ached to share with Elizabeth. Hopefully she would hear him out.

If only he weren’t so jet-lagged. His thoughts were sluggish, like they were moving underwater. Why did it have to be today that he would see Elizabeth? But he couldn’t let this opportunity slip through his fingers; he didn’t know if he’d ever see her again.

The limo lurched to a stop in front of Charlie’s Hollywood Hills home. Charlie jumped into the back, freshly pressed and dashing in his tux. I hope Elizabeth isn’t interested in him; I probably resemble a dead sea creature by comparison.

Damn, there was another thing to worry about: what if Elizabeth had a boyfriend?

“Darcy! Dude!” Charlie gave Darcy a bro handshake. “Long time, no see! You psyched about the premiere?”

Truthfully, Darcy hadn’t given the movie itself much thought. “Yeah. It’ll be great, unless Roberta did a real butcher job in the editing room.”

“True that.” The limo lurched into motion, and Charlie slumped into his seat.

“Didn’t your manager want you to have a date for this?” Darcy couldn’t remember Charlie ever attending anything solo.

“Of course, he did.” Charlie poured some champagne from the built-in bar. “But I wanted to come alone.”

Darcy lifted an eyebrow.

“I…um…” Avoiding Darcy’s gaze, Charlie stared out the window at the passing scenery, which was gradually turning gray in the gathering twilight. “Jane won’t return my calls.”

That was a shame; Darcy had hoped his friend could supply some intel on Elizabeth. “Since when did you want Jane to return your calls?” he asked Charlie. “I thought it was over between you.”

Charlie shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Yeah, I did, too. It was a reasonable assumption, what with her refusing to take my calls and, you know, returning my flowers to the florist and unfriending me and deleting all her social media accounts—and, you know, everything else. But I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“You’re kidding.” Charlie usually changed women the way most men changed socks. Darcy couldn’t remember his friend ever getting hung up on one particular woman before.

“Yeah. I mean…she’s like…and really…so…wow! You know? I’m never going to find another woman like that.”

“You went out on a date with another woman.”

Charlie rested his head against the back of the seat. “Yeah, I screwed up. Caroline set me up. But in my defense, I didn’t know how much I would miss Jane until she was gone.”

It wasn’t comforting to think that Darcy’s situation paralleled his friend’s. He couldn’t decide if he’d screwed up worse than Charlie or not. He hadn’t cheated on Elizabeth, so he wasn’t in the same doghouse as Charlie. But he had insulted her and made demeaning assumptions, so maybe that put him in a different doghouse.

He’d probably know

by the end of the evening. The thought gave him heart palpitations.

“So you were hoping that if you showed up alone you might be able to get something going with Jane again,” Darcy said.

“Yeah. Kinda pathetic, huh?”

Darcy could hardly tease his friend when he was flying solo for pretty much the same reason. Of course, Roy had thrown a fit, but Darcy simply hung up on him. “Nah. The right woman is worth making an effort for.”

“Do you think she’ll forgive me if I apologize?” Charlie’s forehead creased with worry.

Darcy wondered the same thing and desperately wished he knew the answer. “Jane strikes me as the forgiving type,” he said.

Charlie appeared slightly happier. Unfortunately, “forgiving” was not a word Darcy would use to describe Elizabeth.

It was pathetic, really. She’d rejected him in no uncertain terms, kicked him to the curb decisively, and yet she was all he could think of. Even if she never wanted him—which seemed likely—he’d never find someone to replace her.

He pictured her face wearing the kind of welcoming smile he was desperate to see—an affectionate smile just for him. If he saw that—if she gave him the slightest hint that she might return even a portion of his feelings—he’d do anything, pay anything, give up anything, even end his career…just for another chance with her. The thought was terrifying but not as terrifying as the idea that she would never want him.

The closer they drew to the theater, the more his stomach tied itself into knots. His mouth was dry, and his fists were clenched into tight balls. He might as well be facing a jury assigned to determine if he’d go free or live a life in prison.