Chapter 35 Aiden
Chapter 35 AIDEN
A s Becky had predicted, Troy Atkinson, the best-selling author of Consequat , had indeed entered a legal battle against the studio. The producers would stop filming until they could settle everything, which could take who knew how long. Aiden felt a huge weight lifted from his shoulders. He wouldn’t find it terrible if production stalled out and they couldn’t finish the film—and he knew he wasn’t the only one.
“Well, that’s life. The movie wasn’t going to be done in time for the big film festivals anyway.” Becky handed him his now-recharged phone. “I’ll keep the cable, otherwise you’ll lose this one, too.”
“Thanks for the trust, Becky.” But Aiden knew she was right. “How many missed calls from my mother? Please tell me she’s not already on her way from Bath.”
“Aw, aren’t you a mama’s boy?” Becky pinched his cheek. Did she realize it hurt? “No calls from her. Actually, no activity at all, you’re such a bore. Except for a text message from a Sarah. She’s not in your contacts.”
Sarah? He didn’t know any—
Oh. Oh . It couldn’t be. Or could it? Maybe Nora had indeed watched his interview and wrote to him, declaring her undying love. Or more likely, perhaps she wrote to scold him for referencing her in the media, further violating her privacy. “Is that so? What did the message say? I don’t see anything here,” Aiden said as he scrolled through his phone.
“Something about a diamond ? A diamond, Aid? Seriously? But you know what, I don’t wanna know. Throw out your money however you please. And she also said something about an olive branch, ‘yuck’? She said she was sorry. Whatever for, I have no idea.”
“That’s it?”
“The gist of it, yeah. Didn’t trigger any warnings in my book, but you never know with people these days.”
So Nora wanted to bury the hatchet. After all the pain she’d caused him, they would need more than a mere “I’m sorry” and a bad joke to mend the cracks and bridge the gaps. His heart clenched—he would prefer to settle things with her, but would it ever be enough? After all, he still had his career, his fame, all of which was unappealing to her, but which he wasn’t willing to let go. “So you deleted it?”
“Obviously. I wonder where she got this number from,” Becky said with a pointed look.
I gave it to her, a whole lifetime ago, when I wasn’t who I am, and everything was as it should be . It was impossible to undo what had been done. He couldn’t unhide the truth about himself, and she couldn’t unsay those horrible things. What Aiden did was cowardly, and what Nora said was cruel.
But so was what he had done to Kate. Years had gone by, and he had never tried to contact her after he left. How could he scorn Nora’s apology, when he himself never had the decency to reach out to the mother of his child? Aiden immediately deflated.
Becky snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Jesus Christ, Aid, I didn’t think it would affect you so much. I thought you’d be relieved. I know I am. At least you get a few days off, now. You could use some rest. Go to London or something.”
What? Oh, the suspension of the filming. Yes, a few days off sounded brilliant. And he knew just how to make the most of them.
“Becky, I need a favor. A huge one. Could you use your Sherlock skills and get a telephone number for me?”
For a film so aggressively not mainstream, the premiere of Indigo Eyes had all the glitz and glamor of an Academy Awards ceremony. Champagne flutes emptied almost as fast as they were replenished by elegant servers. Stars fluttered and mingled and pranced and preened, the film itself a mere excuse to walk the red carpet, to see and be seen.
“Aiden, can you tell us a bit about your character, Jack Moore?”
“Aiden, what was your relationship like with the other members of the cast?”
“It was your first time being directed by Harald Unneland. Was it difficult to work with him?”
Please don’t ask about Consequat . Please, he thought.
Luckily, they didn’t. One by one, Aiden answered all the reporters’ questions. These were legitimate journalists, genuinely interested in his career and in the industry, not looking for some juicy gossip. The constant flashing of cameras had a dizzying effect, and Aiden tried to give everyone his due attention. If it were up to him, he would be by a cozy fire, in sweatpants and a t-shirt with a storm raging outside, but he had his part to play and he would do it honor.
Making his entrance with Anna Rheims had been one of his best ideas. He’d had such a difficult week. And just as Aiden was feeling a bit better, he found the umbrella Nora had given him, featuring Goofy, his favorite Disney character. It would have been the perfect gift, a reminder of the weather that had brought them together. He was Nora’s Goofy. Or he could have been...
Aiden had no idea that she had given him a gift with such meaning. He’d opened the umbrella right in the middle of the street—only to be met with a quick succession of happiness, wistfulness, and then sorrow.
He dreaded going to the premiere alone. Only his old friend Anna could lift his spirits at such times. He was thrilled when she accepted the last-minute invitation—done during their weekly squash game—but he wasn’t the only one. She was immediately swarmed by journalists and old friends and he was left alone with his gloomy thoughts.
Aiden breathed in deep... only to smell a sweet, floral, musky perfume. Her scent. She must be near , he thought at first. Then he realized—of course Nora wouldn’t be there.
That scent took him back to her basement—when the storm howled outside, and soft radio tunes echoed in their cocoon. Her dainty hands holding his face, her luscious mouth grazing—then devouring—his lips, her sensual body quivering under his hands.
Alone in the middle of a crowd, Aiden allowed his mind to wander. He could almost feel her curves melting under his touch, skin burning his fingers under her t-shirt. His teeth finding the sweet spot where her neck met her shoulder. Her moans. Her body moving in a frenzy, grinding against his—
“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite British man.” A familiar, velvety voice rang in his ear, bringing him back to the present. As he turned to look for the source, all the silvery sparkles—sequins, or whatever the bloody things on her dress were called—almost blinded him. “I had almost forgotten how good you look clean-shaven. I barely recognized you,” Marcie said.
He’d almost forgotten how he looked without a beard, too. Over the last few years, all Aiden’s characters had at least some stubble, so he’d got used to it. But Becky had insisted a fresh look would help defuse the unflattering press he was getting from the photos of his fight with Nora and the video of him threatening the paparazzo in Nashville, so he agreed.
Standing in front of Marcie, Aiden didn’t know what to say. He didn’t loathe his ex, but he also didn’t have particularly good feelings about her. A hand pulled him by the elbow, and he left Marcie behind with a half-hearted wave.
“Phew! I can’t talk about Consequat anymore. Let’s hide until it’s time to leave.” Poor Anna, who had nothing to do with this film and was there only to keep him company, had saved him from the awkward situation.
But as they made their way towards a balcony to hide, Anna was intercepted by yet another journalist. This one, instead of asking about Consequat , asked her about her body positivity campaign—a project she led off screen. Her whole face lit up. As she spoke passionately about it, Aiden realized his dear friend was using her voice—and all the visibility that came with fame—for something relevant.
Yes, Hollywood was full to the brim with crap. But he hoped one day he could show Nora that fame wasn’t necessarily a disease.