Chapter 33 Aiden
Chapter 33 AIDEN
I t was uncanny how his sister always knew when he needed her. Celina had sent him a rather large batch of photos and videos of Charlie, his niece, who was getting lovelier by the day—in his completely unbiased opinion. Waking up to his favorite family member was a good omen. Aiden saved all the pictures to his phone; he would surely need the mood boost later.
If he had one talent, it was his ability to funnel his emotions into his acting. After two days of utter distraction, something inside clicked, and he was at last back on track. That morning had been uncharacteristically productive. Starting early had its perks; they could get so much done before lunch. Which happened at 3PM and only because his long-time friend, the usually sweet Anna Rheims—who played his character’s wife, Vivian—threatened a strike and a lawsuit if her tummy wasn’t full in fifteen minutes.
Famished and knackered, Aiden sat alone in a corner of the cafeteria, chewing without paying much attention to his food, scrolling through the pictures of Charlie until he came across an unexpected photo—one he didn’t recall taking. Blurry and off-center, he figured it must belong to his collection of random, unintended conceptual photos. But there she was, his Nora, with an open-mouthed smile, sitting on their loveseat in her basement. No, not his Nora, not their loveseat. She was not “his” anything. There was no “them.” His heart constricted.
Why did he have to deceive her? Why did she have to say those things? Maybe—probably—they were too incompatible, and it wasn’t meant to be at all. It had been a fanciful dream. With a pained groan, Aiden deleted the photo, only to immediately restore it. Fanciful dream or not, the picture was proof that their night together had been real. That and the wound on his hand, which he knew would heal faster than his broken heart.
Aiden Elliott could fool anyone but himself. Had she been anyone else, he would have run as fast as possible without looking back. However, she was Nora , and the tendrils she’d woven around his heart just wouldn’t go away. And he wasn’t sure he wanted them to.
“Why did you have to talk about that woman ?” Becky asked as soon as they got into the car after that night’s live interview on The Taryn Show . Which had been a disaster, at least by Aiden’s standards. Why couldn’t the host, the ever-lovely Taryn Brooks, have followed the script?
“Because you made me say it?”
“Me? Don’t you dare put this on me.” Becky hissed.
“You motioned for me to answer the question, so I did.” What Aiden didn’t say was that he hoped that maybe, just maybe, Nora would watch the interview and know he was thinking of her.
“Aiden, for God’s sake! I was expecting you to give a generic answer, not add fuel to the fire.”
Fatima intervened. “I think it was cute. It’s so endearing to see a man all flustered over the woman he loves.”
“Whoa, Fatima, hold it right there.” Please . This all hit closer to home than Aiden wanted it to.
“Whatever you say, Mr. Elliott. I liked your answer.”
“Well, I didn’t,” Becky said. “You’re ruining all my efforts to keep you out of the rumor mill. Really, Aid, go have your dalliances, for all I care, but please don’t fuck with my job.” Becky had a sour look on her face, typing with fury on her tablet. She did have a point. He wasn’t making her job easy. But it was his bloody life. Shouldn’t he have any say in it?
They drove quietly under the Los Angeles night sky. Becky doing whatever she did when she was wrapping up a day’s work. Fatima drumming her fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of The Doors. Aiden having treacherous and oh-so-tempting thoughts about Nora.
He saw reminders of her everywhere he went. In the ever-changing color of a stuntwoman’s eyes. Nora . In the jazzy tune someone from the camera crew was listening to. Nora . In two fellow actors discussing Star Wars in the break room. Nora . Could repeating her name again and again summon her?
He was exhausted after almost fourteen hours of grueling filming and then that terrible interview; all he wanted was to curl up and let his troubles melt away. He couldn’t help but think about Nora taking his head in her lap and stroking his hair. She took such care with him. He looked at his hand. The cut was healing well, and he had Nora’s care to thank for that, too.
Nora... When he thought of her he felt a deep sorrow, a sense of something precious lost just as easily as it had been found. He needed to see her face.
He fished his phone from his messenger bag, wanting to look at her photo again. It was dead. Where was his sodding charger? He couldn’t find it. He rested his head against the seat in defeat. What would Nora be doing at that moment? He didn’t dare let himself imagine that she was thinking of him.
That night, he dreamed of her . They were dancing together in her living room. Then the floor dissolved into open air as they flew in the night sky around Christ the Redeemer, floating in contentment. But the sun came up; as it touched his skin, it exposed the dark within. Nora’s face—transfigured with anger—shouted all his sins to the world, each word a glass shard that pierced his body. The blood spilled to the ground in red pools. So. Much. Blood.
Aiden woke up with a scream, the wound on his palm pulsing in a dull throb. He’d summoned Nora, after all. Just not in the way he’d expected.