37 Questions

Chapter 1 Aiden

Chapter 1 AIDEN

A iden Elliott relished his momentary invisibility.

Sure, people could see him. But no one really looked at him, so he walked undisturbed, unrecognized. Invisible. What a relief.

“Aiden Elliott?”

Oh, bloody hell. Not today. On the sidewalk, a teenager looked at him with dreamy eyes. So much for staying under the radar. Would his dissatisfaction with everything seep through his voice, if he were to talk with this girl?

“Oh my God, it’s actually you! I thought the filming was over! I’ve been a huge fan since, like, forever! I loved you in Falling Leaves ! It’s, like, the best movie ever! Oh my God, I love you so much!” She bounced up and down, on the verge of tears, and it made him more than a little self-conscious.

What had he done to deserve such adoration? He was far from a hotshot, heartthrob, or any of those colorful labels the media gave him. In reality, he was just a regular Englishman who, more often than not, felt awkward around other human beings and certainly wasn’t anything like the characters he portrayed on the silver screen. Which wasn’t a bad thing, per se, but he had a reputation to live up to and didn’t want to disappoint his fans—even at the cost of his own comfort.

“Thank you very much. That’s kind of you.” Aiden offered her a slight smile, and she squealed. He’d always made it a point to be attentive to his fans, regardless of how difficult he found it. Without their support, Aiden wouldn’t have a career to begin with. He tried his best to always be gracious and warm.

“Can I take a selfie with you? My friends will never, ever, believe this.” The girl didn’t wait for his answer. She fished her phone from her backpack and leaned into him, snapping several photos. He found her giddiness rather cute, if a little embarrassing.

Then she stared at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to say something. Aiden managed to keep smiling, but he couldn’t think of anything clever to say—all he wanted to do was dig a hole in the sidewalk and disappear. Perhaps it was good, he thought, that no words came to him. Sometimes, to cover uncomfortable silences, he blurted whatever came to mind, making things even more uncomfortable.

She kept her gaze on him.

Please don’t ask about Consequat . Please. The film, his current project, had garnered a great deal of attention from media and public alike, because of the huge success of the book on which it was based. There was much speculation about whether Aiden could pull off the main role. All eyes on him. All eyes on his possible— probable —failure.

Not wanting to push his luck, he mumbled a faint farewell, telling her he must be off as there was a storm coming and he didn’t want to get caught in it. At least it was not a lie.

“Thank you, thank you! You totally made my day.” She swiveled to go, but then turned back to him and gave him an awkward hug before scurrying away, looking over her shoulder as she went.

Aiden drew a shaky breath. Alone again with his thoughts, he pulled his duffel bag onto his shoulder and continued walking through the Nashville neighborhood, once very familiar to him, now so changed. He hadn’t been back in years. Where once stood an arcade, now was a drugstore. The ice-cream parlor was now a café. Instead of the bagel shop, another drugstore. It was perplexing how much had changed—until he realized it’d been twenty years since he’d lived here.

Clouds loomed on the horizon. Aiden didn’t have an umbrella with him. Serves me right , he thought. He checked the time—just past four; he should head to whatever hotel Becky had booked for the night instead of roaming the streets of the town that wasn’t his home anymore.

The weather was warmer than the usual November in Nashville, and the air was heavy. Sticky. As a thud of thunder boomed, a woman hurried by, pushing a heaping shopping cart. She didn’t notice when the enormous umbrella hooked on the back fell to the sidewalk. He bent down to scoop it up.

“Excuse me, you dropped your... brolly.” As he straightened himself up, umbrella in hand, she was nowhere in sight—not on the same pathway, nor across the street. Had she turned the corner? He didn’t want her to get drenched, so he ran after her. Still nothing. He kept running for a few more seconds until he noticed it was impossible that she had turned that particular corner and he had not reached her yet. She had vanished. Perhaps he had somehow gone the wrong direction, or she’d already reached her home. Aiden looked down at the battered burgundy umbrella and decided that whoever it belonged to before, it was now his. He restarted walking, thankful for the unwitting gift that granted him a few more minutes to reminisce. Then the street sign caught his eye.

Fern Boulevard. Aiden was tempted to turn onto the street. Thunder boomed again, and it sounded closer than before. Umbrella or not, he’d better get a taxi and leave. But as the first raindrops came down, his feet made a decision for him, and took him down the boulevard to number eighty-five—the red-brick house that held so many treasured memories.

Who lives here now? he wondered as he stood in front. Hopefully not the parka-clad figure just rounding the corner. He didn’t want to look like a creep standing there staring at her house.