“Come on. Let’s sit down a moment.” He gestured to the wrought iron bench in the gardens at the front of the sweet old church, with the clematis climbing over the lychgate and fragrant rosemary bushes lining the uneven stone path.
She glanced over her shoulder towards the car with a creeping sense of guilt. Misplaced guilt. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, and she didn’t report to Raf. She’d tried very, very hard not to think of how he was spending his time, now she was gone. Or more precisely, who he was spending it with. When she did dwell on that, she found it impossible to imagine him alone, and the idea of that was too painful to go near. He didn’t owe her anything, though. They weren’t—and never had been—a couple. They’d just been too foolish to stop getting more involved with each other.
Or maybe they hadn’t had a choice. That was certainly how it had felt at the time. As though an invisible, undeniable force was pushing them together.
As she navigated herself carefully into the old bench seat, Aaron stood, watching, and only when she was settled did he take the seat beside her. “So,” he said, angling his face to hers. “You’re well?”
Her smile was uneven. Well? Physically, she supposed she was, but she didn’t want to contemplate describing her emotional state. She just nodded.
“What about you? You said you’re working?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Look, Ellie, I wish I’d realized what a jerk I was being to you.”
She opened the brown paper bag and removed the biscuit—large and soft with chunks of chocolate. “In what way?”
“Every way, pretty much.” He dragged a hand through his hair, his eyes showing torment. Elodie, on the other hand, felt nothing but mild curiosity. No sting, no thrill of victory at hearing him admit he’d been in the wrong. “I took advantage of you, and you were way too good to me to ever say it. I was living in some kind of fantasy, thinking I could just hone my craft or whatever, while you worked in a dead-end job that you were way too good for.”
His use of the word fantasy was like a sharp spike in her heart, as it brought back memories of her last argument with Raf. She tilted her face away, sucking in a sharp breath, before breaking off a piece of the biscuit simply to have something to do with her hands.
So she didn’t see the moment he moved, putting one of his own hands on her knee and squeezing. “I would do anything to have you back, Ellie. I miss you like hell.”
She closed her eyes against a wave of guilt. In all this time, she’d barely thought of Aaron. Not since moving to London, really, except with a sense of pique. And then, barely at all since meeting Raf.
“It’s okay,” she said, softly, once she’d finished eating. She placed the cookie back in the bag and handed it over to him. “It’s too sweet for me.”
He took it and placed it on the bench seat beside him, then leaned closer to her, an intensity in his gaze that she found herself wishing she could return. How much easier this would all be if she still had feelings for Aaron.
“I know you’ll probably never forgive me. Not just for ending things the way—and when—I did, but for the fact I let you carry me for so long. I treated you like a carer, not a partner. I would never make that mistake again.”
“Stop,” she said, putting her hand on his hand, just to reassure him. “Listen to me. You didn’t make me do anything. I agreed to that. I was happy to work and see you try to chase your dreams. I was always proud of you, Aaron. And I’ll still be proud of you, when you make it on the West End one day.”
He grimaced. “It’s never going to happen.”
“Don’t say that.”
“I’ve thrown myself into it for almost ten years, and nothing. A few bit parts. I don’t have what it takes.”
She snorted. “Well, not if you quit.”
He stared into her eyes, almost pleadingly. “You really think I can make a go of this?”
“I would never have supported you like that if I didn’t. That wasn’t wishful thinking, Aaron, it wasn’t kindness. I believe in you as much now as I did then. I get that you’ll need to juggle working, as well, but don’t give up on your dreams. You’re too talented for that.”
“God, Ellie, I’ve missed you. I can’t tell you how much. I just…you’re in here, you know,” and he pressed his fingers to the centre of his chest, to his heart, so she was painfully aware of how disengaged her own heart was. “If I could go back in time and give myself a kick in the pants, believe me I would.” His eyes dropped to her stomach then, a wistful expression shifting his features. “This should be us.”
No, it shouldn’t, she thought, just barely biting back the words.
She needed to be gentle, and sensitive, but she also needed to be honest. Maybe, just maybe, that honesty would set him free.
“Listen to me, Aaron. I don’t regret a single day of the time we spent together. When you ended things, I probably did. I think I was angry and hurt, and I felt betrayed, because in my heart, I believed you were the one person who would always be in my corner, who’d always be on my team, you know?”
He nodded once, his Adam’s apple shifting visibly as he swallowed.
“I think what I’ve missed the most about you—about us—is your friendship.”
“I’ve missed everything about you.”
She tilted her head to the side, studying him. “I don’t know if that’s true.”
