Chapter 35
Aurora
The cozy scent of coffee fills our kitchen. I step back from the window and let the curtain slide back into place.
Maxime places my cup on the round dining table. "Would you like a croissant? Or some fruit?"
"I'll have something later. I'm not hungry right now," I reply, adjusting the oversized sweater I'm wearing over my yoga pants. Once I settle into the chair, I take a sip of the coffee. "Mmm," I sigh contentedly. "Just like home." The espresso maker I had delivered from Italy was worth every penny.
Smirking, Maxime grabs an apple from the fruit bowl. "You Italians and your coffee."
I pull my right leg toward me and rest my foot on the chair. "A Frenchman will never understand that."
He retrieves a knife from the drawer and divides the apple into two halves. Then he turns his head toward me. "He doesn't have to, as long as he knows how much he loves the Italian woman."
His mischievous grin, tousled hair, and stubble make him look cute and sexy at the same time. In fact, quite irresistible. I blow him an air kiss while I can't help but wonder when was the last time he had this effect on me.
Something is different. We came back changed from our trip to the Îles Chausey. Maxime is definitely more carefree, more grounded, and definitely happier.
And me?
The pressure to have to dance has finally subsided. But that's exactly what makes my big dream seem so unattainable now that I don't even recognize myself anymore.
Who am I if I'm not dancing? What am I looking forward to, what makes me shine, and what do I burn for? I wanted to work my way up to the World Championships—for Mamma.
Now, I feel hollowed out, but at least Maxime's dreams can fill my inner void, for which I will fight harder for than ever before. And I won't give up.
"Aurora?" Maxime suddenly sits across from me. In front of him is a bowl of chopped apple pieces. "What do you think? Should I agree?"
Confused, I shake my head. "But you already have." Didn't he tell me that yesterday when he came home from the academy? Or was I not listening properly because I was busy trying to breathe away the burning pain in my chest? "If Madame Durand wants you to dance with Alice, you can't refuse anyway."
He rolls his eyes to the ceiling. "She only wants it because Alice's parents are filthy rich. Ever since she met me, Alice has been doing everything to dance with me."
He doesn't need to say what that means. It's obvious that Alice's parents will financially support the academy as compensation. At least for a while, Maxime will have to play the puppet.
And all of this is just because I can't get myself together. Besides, I'm sure Alice has her sights set on him. But I know I don't have to worry about that. It might have been tough between us recently, but our conversation has bonded us back together. Alice doesn't stand a chance of coming between us.
"Alice is really good. With her, you can dance in any tournament soon. And that's what it's all about, right?" I ask.
Oh, that smile. Full of anticipation and passion. "Exactly," he says, taking a spoonful of his cereal. "And we can build on the points I earn with her together." His eyes sparkle.
It's good that he's so positive. That's exactly what I wanted. But seeing him having something to hold on to again while I continue to drift aimlessly through life inevitably pierces my heart.
Stop it, Aurora. This is not about you, I scold myself sharply, then I lift the corners of my mouth. "That's exactly how we'll do it."
Maxime nods at me, glances at his wristwatch with raised eyebrows, and starts eating a little faster. "Christmas is coming soon," he says between bites. "Have you decided whether you'll go home?"
I shrug. "Probably not."
Camilla asked me the same question on the phone last week. Immediately, I imagined what it would be like to spend Christmas at the estate.
In the embrace of family.
Where everyone knows me so well that they would immediately see that something is wrong. They would hug me and ask me to tell them what's burdening me.
Just the thought of it knots my stomach. I should be able to handle it, but I can't face this battle. The only thing that works is to escape. I don't want to look back anymore, only forward. For Maxime, who is sitting across from me, gazing at me with a questioning look.
"Why not? Family is so important to you," he says, hastily scooping up the rest of his breakfast onto his spoon.
