Crossing Boundaries [COMPLETE]

Each Night We are Apart

Hi lovely people! Hope you're all well and making the most of this lock down, quarantine or whatever your place is calling the preventive measures where everyone is asked to stay at home by bonding with your loved ones. :) This chapter is originally meant to be an intense one but I've got all sorts of things in mind right now in terms of my plot. Perhaps, I'm now entering the sepanx (separation anxiety) phase since I know this story is nearing its end and I don't want to let it go just yet. Add to that, I want to give justice to the conflict this story had been treading into that I want everything to be super ironed out before I write the last two to three chapters. Because of that, this one has turned into another short filler that you may or may not read. To my loyal readers I apologize for this but hoping of all hopes that you would like it nevertheless. -SS

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He could always threaten you, but no judge in Massachusetts would rule in his favor. You've got nothing to worry about.

Tiffany sipped the Moscato wine she got from her dad's stash in the basement. She had been thinking about it. If she wouldn't give in to Mike's demands it would only be a matter of time before all hell breaks loose. It was evident now that her ex-husband needed money. The question was, where would he get it?

Tiffany thought that if she wouldn't give in to his demands he'd sell Chris's picture and video to the press to earn bucks. She won't lose, monetarily speaking, but the actor would be battling the one man she was supposed to be dealing with. If she saved Chris from the fires of hell, she might miss the chance of a lifetime with him.

She stroked her right temple, feeling some throbbing there. Whichever path she would choose, if all roads would lead to her making the decision eventually, she felt she could never win. She gulped all the remaining wine in her glass. Chris gets scandalized, she loses. She gives up everything she owns, she still loses.

In times like this one, she hoped to hold someone's hand. Just to somehow ease the anxiety that was, at the moment, shrouding her being. But then she saw Chris's gift around her wrist. Her parents, the pup, St. Dominic, the Sudbury home, the palette. She stared at every charm relishing everything he had said on Christmas. It will always remind you of everything that matters. Everything that matters was just right there, literally within her reach. But tonight she was becoming more aware that all those might just slip off her grasp, forever.

*

"What was that?" Chris asked the person from the other end of the call.

"The PI followed Michael today and learned he was meeting with Tiffany and a couple of lawyers," his publicist answered.

Tiffany and lawyers. That could mean they were sitting down to discuss the divorce, he thought. This might be good news.

"He also said the meeting didn't last long."

This might not be good.

Meg sighed before speaking again. "Tiffany left the building unhappy, he said."

This is definitely not good. Chris hired the PI to bring good news but all he was hearing caused him to feel even more anxious about what was going on in Sudbury. He fiddled the bottle of Bud Light in front of him. All his mind could focus on was how Tiffany was doing right now. Under his breath, he cursed the life out of Mike.

How had it come to this? When Tiffany first got with Mike, Chris, although he wouldn't admit it, saw how the two were so much in love with one another. How things have changed for the worse, the actor had no damn clue.

Tiffany was so enamored with Mike that during their wedding day, Chris made an excuse to bow out early. The then, only friend, felt needles pricking his heart every time he saw how she looked at her husband.

"Are you still there, Chris?" Meg inquired as she was met with dead air after talking about the other reports provided by the investigator.

"Huh?" he paused. "Yeah, sorry. Say that again."

"Jimmy (the PI), did an initial digging into the life of your arch-nemesis. He has been seeing a psychologist since he and Tiffany broke up."

"Maybe to milk money from her for grounds of emotional distress. Tell the PI to dig more into this psychologist thing. Let's see if he's really distressed. Thanks, Megs." Chris ended the call, held the phone in both hands as he let its tip press on his lips. His tepid blue eyes shut unwillingly. His breath heavy and wavering.

He was aware he couldn't call her but there was nothing more he wanted to do than to let her know he was thinking about her, always hoping everything would be over soon. Could not call her, could not text her. What to do? Like he sometimes did, he addressed himself loudly. "Think Chris, think," he mumbled, patting his temple with the edge of his iPhone.

His eyes traveled across the walls of his temporary living space as though searching for an answer to his current plight. Then, there on the coffee table, a few meters from him, he saw his laptop. And just like that, an idea sprouted in a snap.

He squatted on the hotel room floor and waited for his MacBook to boot. He unbuckled Tiffany's gift from his wrist and let it hang diagonally along the left edge of the screen. When the entire system had loaded, he searched for Bambi pictures on Google, in haste. The entire ordeal made Chris's heart skip. He wasn't aware of the smile escaping his lips as he prepared to click the Bambi picture to full screen.

The thought that he would be able to let Tiffany know he was wishing her safety in the most discreet way gave him elation. He navigated his phone's camera, made sure the subject was crisp and clear before capturing it. He immediately opened his Twitter account, after, and posted the photo with the caption: "If you're scared, just be scarier than whatever it is scaring you. (Thumper)" - Bambi under the PALETTEd moon.

Chris contemplated a little bit if the quote he typed was the exact one from the movie. When he was satisfied he tapped the Tweet button. Tiffany had Twitter and is following him but she had barely used it. He was simply hoping of all hopes that tonight she would be scrolling down her account and would see the message he especially posted just for her.

Surely Tiffany won't reply to his tweet, which after just a minute, many followers had already liked and retweeted. But Chris was hoping she would leave a post just as discreet as he did, although he knew all this was far-fetched.

He wasn't following her but he opened her page and refreshed every so often to check if she got the message and if she would leave something for him, too.

Two minutes had gone and there was nothing. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen. One hour. All he got were notifications for comments, retweets and likes to his post. Many thought that he was pertaining to his anxiety and he was addressing himself to calm his nerves. After all, his latest movie would premiere the next day.

His eyes were getting heavy and as he resigned to the idea that she must have not opened her Twitter, he refreshed the page one last time. His denim eyes that were giving into the call of the Sandman formed into sparkling stars in the dim lit room. The abnormal beating of his heart sent bolts of energy in every vein of his body.

From Tiffany's page a tweet was posted: Hvala! And for tomorrow and always, remember this... A voice record of her singing Coco's Remember Me was attached to the tweet. Chris could feel his throat constricting. He put on his pods to listen to her voice. He wasn't meaning for tears to escape his eyes when he heard gloom in her tone. His heart diminished into mere shards of pain, pricking his insides as he recognized the reality he couldn't be physically be beside her to help her get through everything that was going on.