Black Bounds

by Charlotte Byrd

  A tear forms at the corner of my eye and I gasp for air. I still can’t believe that this is happening. A proposal was the last thing that I expected. I knew that we were in love, but I had no idea that he was ready for such a commitment. Frankly, I didn’t think I was either until I said yes. His proposal caught me off guard, but not as much as my own reply. And yet, at the same time, it felt like the most normal and natural thing in the world. The word ‘yes’ loomed in my mind even before he finished asking me. I almost didn’t have the patience to wait until he was done.

  Okay, enough with all of this, I say to myself. I check my emails to distract myself. There are about twenty from my readers. They are in love with my book and can’t wait for the next installment. This warms my heart. Not many readers know this, but one of the main reasons we, writers, write is for this moment. Writing is a very solitary endeavor where you spend a lot of time alone in your room with your nose buried in the computer screen. But then, once the book comes out, all bets are off. Even the most experienced and famous writers will tell you that (if they dare to admit it to themselves) there’s nothing like hearing from a reader about how much your book has impacted their life.

  When I first started, I promised myself that I would reply to each and every one of the emails. My readers took the time to write and I will take a few moments to show them my appreciation. After replying to the first seven emails in my inbox, I open the eighth. This one is different. This one doesn’t just say how much she loved my book even though it does say that.

  * * *

  I loved your book. I loved the premise and your writing. It really took me away to another world and for that I’m forever thankful. My husband, the love of my life, was recently diagnosed with cancer and I’ve been spending a lot of time with him in the hospital. As you probably know, hospitals are dreary places especially if you’re there helping the love of your life fight for his. And so, the reason why I’m reaching out is that I want to thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Your book took me away to another world and helped me forget about my own life, if only for a brief period of time. It’s an escape that I won’t soon forget and I can’t wait for the next book.

  * * *

  Tears are running down my face when I finish reading her email. I never knew that my writing could make such an impact on someone’s life, and for her to share this with me, makes my heart swell. I want to wrap my arms around her and tell her that it’s all going to be okay. But of course, I can’t. No, I need to express my feelings in words, which isn’t always an easy thing.

  For a moment, I think about putting this task to the side and doing it sometime later, but as more tears stream down my cheeks, I know that I can’t.

  * * *

  I’m sorry to hear about your husband’s diagnosis. I wish there were something I could do. You are a very strong woman and going through this will make you even stronger. I am thinking about you and your husband and hope that everything turns out okay.

  You have no idea how much your email means to me. I write partly because I have to for myself and partly for my readers. I love hearing how much you enjoyed my book, but I had no idea that it would help you so much in your time of need. I am truly humbled. I will get back to work ASAP to give you more enjoyment and a moment of escape. Again, my thoughts are with you and your husband and please keep me updated about his treatment.

  * * *

  After I finish the email, my head is not in a good place to produce fiction (or even mostly autobiographical fiction). I close my computer and say a silent thank you. Even though my life is full of its own struggles, I can’t imagine going through something like this.

  * * *

  ***

  * * *

  When I come out to the living room, I find Caroline on the couch, flipping through the channels. She’s dressed in pajamas, thick socks, and a bathrobe. Her hair is a total mess, unwashed for many days, and she isn’t wearing a spot of makeup. If you know anything about Caroline like I do, you know that she isn’t one to even exit her room without a full face of makeup in the morning. Despite this, I decide to take her presence in the living room as a good sign.

  “Can I watch with you?” I ask. She shrugs. I watch her flip on HGTV, then on local news, CNN, and then back to HGTV. Finally, she seems to settle on a show about a couple looking to buy a house in Costa Rica.

  “Is this place really real?” Caroline asks absentmindedly.

  “Apparently,” I say. I know exactly what she means. The color of the water that appears on the screen seems unreal, just as unreal as the palm trees gently swaying in the breeze.

  “Maybe we can go there sometime,” I say. “Just you and me.”

  She pauses for a moment, as if she’s actually considering the proposition. “Yeah, maybe,” she says after a moment. I want to believe her, but I know that she’s just placating me. Still, I choose to believe that one day, when all of this blows over, it will be possible.

  We watch one episode and then another and another. I keep wanting to bring up what happened in Maine or what is going on with the investigation now, but I can’t summon the strength. Every time I look over at Caroline, the only thing I can think of is the phrase ‘shell-shocked.’ It’s a term used to describe soldiers returning from World War I, before we got more sophisticated phrases like ‘post-traumatic stress disorder.’ I know that this is what she’s going through, yet the phrase ‘shell-shocked’ seems much more appropriate than PTSD, at this point. Caroline looks lost. Buried somewhere deep within herself. I know that it hasn’t been very long since we got back from Maine. I know that I need to give her time to recover. But I’m impatient. I want my friend back. I want to see her smiling face. Her carefree demeanor. I want to hear her witty comments. And, more than anything, I’m terrified that if I let her disappear into herself like this for any length of time, I will lose her forever.

  Chapter 15 - Ellie

  When they find out…

  A few hours later, I get a text. Aiden is downstairs and I buzz him in. I meet him at the front door and he gives me a big kiss on the lips. It sends shivers down my spine and I revel in the total feeling of adoration and love. When we finally pull away from one another, I catch a glance of us in the hallway mirror. He has his strong arms wrapped tightly around my shoulders. His eyes are cast down a bit and a few strands of hair fall in his face. He licks his lips and flashes me a smile.

  “What ya staring at, beautiful?”

  “You.”

  Aiden tilts my body back and runs his fingers down my neck and over the top of my breasts as he kisses me behind the ear.

  A few moments later, I suddenly catch myself and pull away from him.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “No, nothing,” I say. That’s not entirely true. “Well, the thing is that Caroline’s in her room. And I don’t want her to come out and see us…”

  I don’t really know why I don’t want her to see us. But Aiden fills in the blank.

  “Yes, that would be difficult for her.”

  I smile at him. We have not known each other for very long and yet he already knows what I’m thinking. Is this really happening?

  “So, shall we?” Aiden asks, taking me by the hand. I squeeze it and follow him into the living room.

  No fancy night out tonight. No high heels or short black dresses. No suit for Aiden.

  “We have quite a glamorous affair planned for tonight, don’t we?” I ask, as I open the drawer with all the takeout menus.

  Aiden laughs as he plops himself in front of the television.

  “An evening spent in our pajamas, vegetating on the couch?”

  “Vegetating?” he asks.

  “You know, like Cher from Clueless called it? Being still like vegetables.” I say.

  “Wow, now that’s a blast from the past.”

  We order some Thai food from my favorite place around the corner and flip on Netflix to try to find the perfect complement to their amazing stir fry ginger dish an
d yellow curry. Ten minutes later, when the food arrives, Aiden and I fight over who is going to cover the bill. Finally, he gives in. I recognize that this is a small victory, but I’m glad to take whatever I can get.

  “Caroline?” I knock on her door. “We got a lot of Thai food. Do you want to come out and have some?”

  I don’t hear a response for a few moments. “No thanks,” she says after a while through the door.

  “Can I bring you some in there then? You haven’t had much to eat today.”

  “No thanks.”

  I look back at Aiden who just shrugs his shoulders and digs in. He knows that there isn’t much we can do to make her eat or feel better unless she lets us. But I have a much harder time accepting this fact.

  “Okay, fine,” I finally give in and plop onto the couch next to Aiden. He picks some crime thriller on Netflix and I agree to watch it because my mind is elsewhere. I’m really worried about Caroline and I hate feeling this helpless. Whenever there’s a problem I like to take the initiative. I’m not someone who wallows for long. But then again, I’ve never been through anything like Caroline experienced.

  “She just needs time,” Aiden says. “It’s going to take a bit for her to process everything.”

  “Yes, I know. You’re right. Of course, you’re right.”

  As Aiden turns his attention to his fried wontons and the movie, I pull out my phone. My mind is going a mile a minute and somehow scrolling through meaningless stuff online makes it slow down. Maybe not slow down exactly, but at least distract me somewhat.

  My guilty pleasure is the juicy gossip sites about celebrities. I hate to admit it, but I love looking at the pictures of the pregnancy and birth announcements. I love reading about how so and so lost twenty pounds and who is dating who now. I’m not proud of it, but that’s why it’s a guilty pleasure, right?

  “Oh my God,” I say, nearly dropping my phone. The image that pops up onto the screen makes me jump out of my seat. I look closer to make sure that my eyes aren’t deceiving me.

  “This can’t be real,” I mumble.

  Aiden is too engrossed in the action on screen to pay much attention to me.

  “Aiden,” I say slowly. “Look.”

  It takes him a few moments to pull himself away from the television.

  “What?” he asks, absentmindedly.

  I hand him the phone. He looks at the screen and then at me. And then back to the screen.

  “What is this?”

  “The Daily Dish,” I say.

  “No, I mean, why are there pictures of us here?”

  “I don’t know,” I whisper.

  But it’s as clear as day, there are two pictures of us. In the first, we are walking hand in hand together from a restaurant. By the outfit, I know that it was taken before we went to Maine. And in the second, Aiden is kissing me under a tree.

  “Is this one from the party?” Aiden asks.

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “So, someone at the Warrenhouse party took a picture of us and sold it to this trash mag?”

  It definitely looks like it. But why? I mean, who the hell am I to be in a gossip magazine? And even Aiden? I mean, he runs a big company, but he isn’t a celebrity. At least, not in any real way. Right?

  “I don’t understand why we’re here at all. I mean, who cares?”

  “Well, with my business blowing up in a very public way, I guess people are much more interested in me than they used to be.”

  Of course. Man, am I an idiot. I completely forgot. Aiden Black is a public figure. And even though he was never really in that many gossip magazines before, except maybe on Page Six, when he was seen with a particular socialite, now that Owl is in trouble, there’s much more fodder for gossip.

  Before I even have a few minutes to process any of this, my phone lights up. It’s my mom. I press ignore and turn off my phone. A voicemail appears a minute later. It’s then quickly followed by a succession of texts.

  * * *

  Where are you?

  I just saw your picture in the Daily Dish.

  * * *

  You’re seeing Aiden Black?

  * * *

  Why didn’t you tell me?

  * * *

  Ellie, answer the phone!

  * * *

  Shit, I had forgotten that I got my love for gossip magazines from none other than my own mother.

  “Who is that?” Aiden asks.

  “My mom. She saw the article too.”

  “Answer it,” he says, absentmindedly.

  “The thing is that I never told her about us,” I say. My mouth can’t keep up with my thoughts as I start to slur my words in an effort to get everything out at once. “Not yet. I mean, you asked me to marry you so suddenly and now it seems like a big secret, but it’s really not.”

  Aiden shrugs. “It’s no big deal. I didn’t tell anyone either.”

  “So, what should I do now?”

  “I guess, you should tell her that you are seeing me. I mean, what’s the point of lying now?”

  “You’re right. Of course, you’re right,” I nod.

  I take a deep breath and pick up the phone. “Mom?”

  * * *

  ***

  To say that my mom is freaking out over seeing my picture in the Daily Dish would be the understatement of a lifetime. She is over the moon. She wants to know all the details. Where did I meet Aiden? How long have we been together? What is he like? And, most importantly, why didn’t I tell her?

  I don’t really have any good answers to any of this, so I decide to be as vague as possible. We met at a party that Caroline invited me to. It was on a yacht, but I don’t mention the auction. He’s wonderful, of course, but I don’t mention that we are engaged quite yet. That can wait until we meet in person. Why didn’t I tell her? Because I wasn’t sure where it was going and I wasn’t ready to talk about it quite yet.

  “Well, you absolutely have to invite him over for dinner,” Mom says after listening very carefully. “We must meet him as soon as possible.”

  “Mom…” I start to say.

  “Don’t Mom me,” she says sternly. “You kept the biggest story of the year from me and I had to find out about you dating a billionaire in an online magazine!”

  “I’m not sure about it being the biggest story of the year.”

  “It is for me!”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that,” I say.

  “So, I can give you a choice of dates. This Wednesday or Thursday.”

  “Wednesday is tomorrow!” I protest.

  “And Thursday is the day after. I’m glad that Ivy League education is finally paying off.”

  She can’t see me, but I’m rolling my eyes.

  “Okay, hold on,” I say, putting my hand over the bottom of the phone.

  “My mom wants us to come over for dinner,” I whisper. “Tomorrow or the day after. I can try to postpone it until next week, but that will probably be it.”

  Aiden looks up at me. “Tomorrow is fine,” he says with a shrug.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, why not? I’d love to meet your parents.”

  Chapter 16 - Ellie

  When we go to Connecticut…

  After eating takeout and watching Netflix on the couch, I want Aiden to spend the night, but he has an early meeting the following day so he goes back home to his apartment. He has an important meeting with the shareholders tomorrow morning and has to be in fighting spirits.

  The following day, I spend writing, answering emails, trying to get Caroline to leave her room, and deciding what to wear. I don’t want to be too dressed up because then Mom will immediately know what’s up. But at the same time, I can’t very well just show up in a pair of pajamas. Aiden will be picking me up straight from work, so he will be wearing an expensive suit and looking quite dashing like always. What about a pair of skinny jeans and heels and a blazer? Jeans would say it’s a casual evening, but the heels would go well with Aiden’s outfit and n
ot make me look too out of place. Shit, this is exactly what I need Caroline around for. Clothes are her specialty, not mine. But when I knock on her door and ask her for help, she just says she’s tired.

  I wash my hair and put on my makeup. I look at myself in the mirror and my heart skips a beat. Tonight, everything is going to become real. My mom will know that I’m engaged. It’s not like the engagement didn’t feel real before this moment, but there’s nothing like those people who are closest to you sharing in your joy. At least, that’s what all the movies say, right?

  Okay, okay, calm down, I say to myself. Mom is going to be very excited and somebody has to remain calm in this type of situation. I pull on the skinny jeans and wedges. These are really summer shoes, the old Caroline would point out, but I love that they have the toes covered. My feet always get really cold walking the New York streets in early December. Plus, wedges are much easier to walk in than regular stilettos or even high heels.

  My phone lights up. It’s a text from Aiden.

  * * *

  I’m downstairs.

  * * *

  “Caroline, I’m leaving. See you later,” I yell. I wait for a moment in the hallway as I put on my jacket, but she doesn’t respond.

  * * *

  ***

  “Hey!” I climb into Aiden’s car and give him a kiss on the lips. “Man, it’s cold out there.” ***