Chapter 41
Aurora
"Aurora," he whispers tonelessly.
I am incapable of responding. My heart gallops. The bustling noise of the café no longer seems to reach me.
For seconds, we stare at each other in disbelief, and I feel the years that separate us dissipate with every breath.
What I fight against daily becomes overwhelming.
The desire to pull him into my arms. The longing to kiss him. And the guilt, heavier on my chest today than ever before.
His expression hardens. "How... what...?"
No, don't ask, I silently plead, though I have no right to do so.
He stands up from his chair. Is he wearing a suit? Why? Where is the gleam in his eyes, and where is the wedding ring he should be wearing? His shoulders seem weak and wrinkles traverse his face under a gray veil.
"Why, Aurora? Tell me." His tone sounds controlled.
I can't.
He can't find out.
It was that way back then, and it must remain that way forever. Panic floods me. In my distress, I turn away. I must be strong, perhaps stronger than ever before, and leave here immediately.
"I need to catch my bus," I say disoriented, fumbling to untie my apron and throw it over the chair. I grab my wallet and rush away.
Immediately, he's beside me. "No, you're not leaving again without an explanation." His hand finds my forearm. "You owe me that."
Of course, he thinks that, and I would love to tell him, but however twisted it may seem, this is not about me.
"Go home, Maxime. It's better this way, believe me." I wrench myself free and sprint blindly through the café and out onto the street.
I don't know where I'm running. I only know I need to get away. Without looking back, I hurry to the main road.
He's following me. I hear him calling after me.
Warning. Insistent. Angry.
A red pedestrian light stops me. Cars rush past me, their exhaust fumes scratching my lungs, and though I'm not cold at all, I wrap my arms around myself as I restlessly fixate on the traffic light.
Turn green. Please, turn green.
His panting draws nearer, his steps getting louder.
He's already standing beside me. "Stop running away," he says breathlessly. From the corner of my eye, I see him leaning on his thighs.
"Please. Let me go." I continue to stare at the traffic light. Can't this damn thing turn green already?
Maxime exhales sharply. "I don't give a damn about whatyouwant.Iwant answers."
No, you don't want them, I should say. "We'll talk tomorrow," I reply instead even though that won't happen.
"I won't be here tomorrow," he says, struggling to get the words out.
So it's only a few hours I have to endure. I can do this!
