“Tell me about it. Nor was I.”
“So, what’s the deal?”
Preston told Chris all about going to the play with Beth last night, how he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Elise all day, how he’d finally gone back to the play and gotten an unexpected chance to meet her. His voice slowed down, mellowing a little as he recounted their walk to her apartment building. He told Chris how she’d grown up on a farm, how she came from a big family like theirs, how he’d blurted out his whole sad story about the Olympics, which he rarely shared. How she’d placed her hand on his arm and tried to comfort him. How she’d all but insisted they say goodbye.
He sighed as he approached his tony doorman-building on Sixty-first and Fifth that faced Central Park. From his one-bedroom apartment on the eighteenth floor, he had an incredible view of the Pond and the Zoo, and was able to take a four mile jog every morning simply by crossing the street.
But he wasn’t quite ready to go home yet, so he crossed the street and sat down on one of the many benches positioned under the ancient stone wall that bordered the park. Resting his elbows on his knees, he leaned his head forward.
“I didn’t want to say goodbye. I wanted to see her again.”
“You barely know her, Pres. Maybe she’s got a boyfriend. Maybe she’s…I don’t know, not interested in guys.”
“Thanks.”
“No. I’m just saying…aren’t you a little attached for only meeting this girl a couple of hours ago?”
“I can’t help it,” he muttered, sitting back on the bench and looking at the couples passing by. Salt in the wound. “There was something about her. Something different. I really liked her.”
“Okay…” sighed Chris. “Then, against my better judgement, I’m thinking that you probably shouldn’t give up.”
“Oh, that’s really helpful, Chris. She said goodbye. She said the timing was terrible. She wasn’t at all ambiguous.”
“Yeah, I know. But tell me this…do you think she liked you?”
Preston thought about her sparkling blue eyes when he gave her the flowers, the touch of her hand on his arm…but ultimately, she’d let him go. Did she like him? The honest answer was that he wasn’t sure. “I don’t know.”
“Oh, man!” exclaimed Chris. “That’s it!”
“What’s it?”
“You don’t know if she likes you or not, and you can’t stand it.”
“That’s not it. I really—”
“—liked her. Yeah. I know. But this has got to be the first time in your life a woman isn’t throwing herself all over you. It’s got to be…intriguing.”
Intriguing. The exact word he’d used with Elise.
“It is,” he confessed. “It’s a little maddening.”
“And she’s hot.”
Preston shrugged. “Not like a bikini model hot. She’s classy, smart. And yeah, she’s gorgeous, but she’s sweet, too.”
“Cute and beautiful,” said Chris reverently. “A Winslow brother favorite.”
Preston nodded. Damn, this sucked.
Chris took a deep breath, sighing long and hard. “Well, my brother, if she’s worth it, I think you already know what you have to do.”
Preston heard the take-no-prisoners lilt in his brother’s voice and he grinned. “All out?”
“All the stops. All out.” He could see Christopher nodding sagely in his lonely D.C. apartment. “A hundred percent.”
***
Elise couldn’t help comparing Sunday afternoon’s performance to yesterday evening’s. And she had to confess: her heart hadn’t been in it today. Not that it mattered since a good quarter of the sixty or so audience members had used the two-hour matinee to catch up on their senior citizen beauty rest. But, still…Elise had integrity, even when it came to She Loves Me Not, and today was far from her best performance.
She’d worked a half brunch-shift at Vic’s from eight in the morning until twelve-thirty, distracted and dreamy, going through the motions of work, but forgetting drink orders and extra baskets of biscuits. Her mind wandered in an endless loop to her walk home with Preston Winslow last night.