Crossing Boundaries [COMPLETE]

Thanksgiving Morning

She moved about the bed trying to evade the streaming speckle of sunlight in her room. She would have covered her eyes with the comforter or her pillow but she felt hot.

She thought about how much beer she gulped down yesterday. She shifted one more time. Even if the sunlight was much paler at this time of the year, the luster still caused her head to throb. Or maybe it was the booze. Well hear head still felt like her skull would crack.

With her last attempt to get back to sleep failing miserably, Tiffany simply decided to take a shower. She wobbled her way to her en suite and stayed there for a good 20 minutes.

After choosing to sport another pair of jammies, she had gotta start doing laundry since she was running out of PJs to wear, she went downstairs for a glass of water.

The moment Tiffany opened the door of her bedroom a scrumptious whiff invaded her nostrils. Smells like mom's breakfast, she thought. All of a sudden, she stopped dead on her tracks. What if her mom was really cooking breakfast? What if she finally got into a comma from drinking too much and this was a part of that dream where she gets to decide if she should follow the light or wake up in a hospital bed?

She sprinted downstairs excited to see her mother but it was just Chris. Tiffany didn't know if she would feel relieved or annoyed by the fact that it wasn't her mom. Then it dawned on her, as she dragged her way down the stairs. Was Chris wearing an apron? Wearing only an apron?

"Oh please tell me your decent, Evans!"

"And good morning to you, too, Mademoiselle," his voice was cheerful, just as perky as the smell of the freshly squeezed orange juice at the counter.

She remained at the foot of the stairs, glaring at Chris. "You didn't answer me, exactly."

"Oh that." His warm smile unfaltering. "I just had to free myself from my shirt. It got wet when I mopped the living room... Don't worry, I have knickers, " he teased to which she answered with an arched brow. "And pants on," he chuckled.

She then noticed the clean smell and look of the first floor. She swallowed hard trying not to tear up with his gesture. Chris noticed that look on her face so he walked towards her and led her to a kitchen stool. While he was doing some finishing touches to the pancake, he said, "I figured if you were planning to close yourself off in here for eternity, you should at least feel really at home." He carried a glass of OJ and a plate filled with Canadian bacon, her favorite, eggs, and pancake and planked them in front of her. "I also stuffed your fridge just in case you get hungry... or need a treat or two."

He took another set of the breakfast and sat himself across from her. "Happy Thanksgiving." Chris still grinning from ear to ear.

On a normal day, she would reply with the same giddyness. But today, the phrase was quite a labor to say. She instead focused on the food in front of her. She had not eaten a full breakfast in a while.

A lump in her throat grew and her eyes started to water. All the while, Chris could see her expression. He let out a deliberate cough. "Ehem... It's just bacon and eggs and pancake. They won't attack, I promise."

Tiffany's smile was faint but real. She thought of a simple wisecrack for her friend, who's making a reappearance in her life like a bat out of hell. She took a bite of the bacon and, straight off, couldn't hide the gratification of enjoying her favorite piece of meat. She unconsciously shut her browns, savoring every bit of the food. Equally satisfied was Chris, who happened to capture her reaction through his, bright as stars, blue eyes.

Tiffany forgot the one-liner she was trying to think of. When she opened her peepers, she realized he was staring intently. She swallowed the masticated bacon. "So, spill Evans," she said as she continues to fill her belly with the lovely brekky.

Unaware of what she meant, Chris asked, "Spill what, Bambi?" He has always called her Bambi coz just like the deer in the Disney film, she had lovely doe brown eyes and just like a deer, she tends to be quiet and shy and is extremely delicate.

"You've been awfully nice today. You cleaned the place and cooked me food. What's your deal?" She gulped a good amount of orange juice.

He tapped his chest and had a hearty laugh. "Tiffany Elizabeth Foster," he deliberately left out her husband's last name. "You're too cruel." Chris chewed on a chunk of pancake. "Do I need a hidden agenda for making one of my favorite people an eye-shutting meal?" The fact is he actually cooked for her without wanting anything in return. But at the back of his mind, he was hoping to ask her again to join his family for Thanksgiving dinner.

That's true, Tiffany thought. Chris wasn't exactly the type to have ulterior motives for being nice. He genuinely cares for everyone around him especially family and friends. And this was precisely the reason why she slowly distanced herself from him.

With his fame, came an extremely hectic schedule. He's such a huge public figure that his every single move was plastered eternally in the depths of the brutal world wide web. Tiffany wouldn't want him putting his work life on hold just to be beside her. She knew very well that he would.

Her mind drifted into that time when he was still starting out his career. He was filming a movie but flew back to Sudbury for one night just to cheer her up from her first heartbreak. When her father passed away in that awful car accident, a decade ago, Chris took a week off. His entire family was beside her and her mom every step of the way.

"Present to Tiff, present to Tiff," Chris teased.

Tiffany blinked as her mind gravitated back to the kitchen, where she was supposed to finish her breakfast, which he prepared for her. "Yeah?"

"Were you too drunk to have an astral projection?"

"Nah. I just remembered something." She went back to tackling her lovely food. Then out of nowhere, "So, is there really no favor you would like to ask?"

"Well..."

"I thought so," she giggled. Although it wasn't a hundred percent happy giggle, it was still nice seeing her being better than yesterday, Chris thought.

"Hey, there. It just crossed my mind again. Just this second. It's not like I had it in mind when I was slaving myself to make your home spotless," he admitted. "So, can you come to our Thanksgiving dinner?"

Tiffany bit her lip, listing the pros and cons in her mind. The Evanses are the most extrovert family she'd ever met. They're fun and easygoing. It isn't hard to be swayed by their jolly nature. Was her mind ready to pretend that she was having a fun time, in a big holiday such as this one and with the most charming family?

Chris batted his eyelashes, making it sure that he was exaggeratedly enthralling. Just like old times, Tiffany took his left hand, currently holding a fork, and squeezed it. "I might become a burden. Your family doesn't need a dead weight today."

"Not if we can rub off the holiday spirit on you first," he said, his facial expression calm. He then cupped her other hand on hers that was grasping his, clasping it tightly. "Tiff, no one should be alone on Thanksgiving."

This is what she tried to avoid. It was always so difficult to say no to Chris, particularly if he's a hundred percent made up of kindness fluff. She breathed in air, allowing it to fill not just her lungs but her entirety. She made a quick decision. "If I tread the party pooper boundary, pinch me?"

Chris placed his right hand on his chest, while his other hand's fingers were entwined in hers. "I promise in front of all your parents' old properties... and them just in case they are around here somewhere."

With that, Tiffany heaved another sigh. No turning back now. It's gonna be Thanksgiving dinner with the Evanses. To prevent her from thinking too much, Chris gave her hand another squeeze.