Chapter 52
Maxime
As the plane crosses Germany, Aurora turns pale as a sheet. And even as we land at Greenland's Kangerlussuaq airport, she still looks that way.
"Our cocktails are waiting," she says, feigning cheerfulness, and directs me to the bikes outside.
It's 5:30 p.m., and I have an hour and a half before this is supposed to end; otherwise, I'll miss my train. The line at the check-in will be long, and I need to allow enough time for that.
I could still go along with the next experience, partly because I'm curious to see how she'll pretend to drink cocktails at the North Pole. Yes, I'm curious, but I won't let her see that. And I won't take a single step toward her.
This is for the best—for both of us—because by now, I know what Aurora is trying to do here. She wants us to become who we used to be, not realizing that it's precisely the wrong thing to do. If we simply go back in time, we'll end up right back where we were just a few weeks ago.
We can't pretend that our problem is only superficial and hide it behind revisited memories.
That's exactly what I'll tell her once we arrive at our destination.
After half an hour of riding, we reach a hotel.Kubeis written in capital letters above the double doors at the entrance. Aurora enters the building, and I follow her to the basement, where she stops in front of a door and takes two thick coats from the elegant coatrack.
"So you don't catch a cold," she promises, holding out one of the coats to me.
I put it on.
"Shall we?" She nods toward the door.
Absolutely. It's time to end her glittery show. In response to my determined nod, she grabs the handle and opens the door.
I stare in disbelief at the world that lies behind that door. "An ice bar?" I ask, momentarily forgetting to sound aloof.
With a proud grin, Aurora steps inside, passing by tables entirely made of ice, until she reaches the bar, which is also entirely made of frozen water. Artfully decorated ice columns reach up to the ceiling on its sides. The room is illuminated with blue-white light, and tealights create an overly romantic atmosphere.
"Incredible," I murmur as I notice that even the glasses are covered with a layer of ice. The umbrellas in the cocktails of other guests sparkle frostily.
Aurora sits on one of the fur-covered ice chairs at a table at the end of the bar and pushes the reservation card against the wall. "Bienvenue au pôle Nord," she says, her lips trembling as she continuously pulls the sleeves of her jacket over her fingers.
She must be terribly cold. No wonder, given that she's nothing but skin and bones. The desire to warm her arises within me, but I quickly suppress it.
The server takes our order, jotting it down on an old-fashioned notepad. His hands are encased in black gloves, and he wears a matching black cap on his head. Despite being bundled up, he looks as elegant as this bar.
When the server steps away, Aurora raises her eyebrows expectantly. "Well, what do you think?"
I shouldn't show enthusiasm, but I can't deny that this place is amazing. "How did you find this bar?"
A relieved smile flickers on her lips. "By not giving up and searching for a solution," she replies.
Resistance immediately wells up within me. "Oh really? So you can do it after all." I sound accusatory, and she should hear it.
The graceful dance ends now.
As if sensing that she can't escape me anymore, she lets out a long breath. "Back then, I really thought I had found the perfect solution."
So she knows what I'm alluding to. It still feels like we're continuing each other's thoughts, even though it shouldn't be that way anymore.
"But there's something else..."
"The perfect solution? You can't be serious, Aurora," I interrupt, not giving her a chance to deflect and leaning back as far as possible in my chair.
How could she think that leaving me was the best option? There it is again, the anger that takes over whenever I think of the moment I realized what had happened while I unsuspectingly signed the contract for the show in Lyon.
