Accusingly, I catch her gaze. "But that's exactly what happened," I retort.
Almost panicky, she shakes her head. "No, that's wrong. You were supposed to be free to live the life of your dreams!"
"How the hell could I do that without having you by my side? You were all I ever wanted. Dancing, the job, the family—that came afterward." Did I just say that out loud?
Fuck.
I didn't mean to.
There's something in her that sounds like what broke between us could be healed. And that's definitely impossible.
"I'm so sorry." Aurora touches my forearm. "Believe me, Maxime, I never wanted to hurt you."
I wrap my arms around my bent knees and lean my head back. The first stars twinkle in the sky. For so long, the question ofwhyhad me in its stranglehold. Now she has given me the reason, but it's so absurd that I don't know if I can trust her.
"But you did." More than anyone else before. I lower my gaze and find Aurora in front of me, now touching my other forearm as well.
"It was a mistake." Desperation is in her expression again, and it hurts me too much. "I was sure I was doing the right thing, you have to believe me."
I can't suppress a scornful snort. "The right thing would have been to talk to me about it." That's the truth. Back then, she didn't trust me enough to show me her fear. She didn't want to give me the chance to help her. And she definitely didn't want to let me decide how to handle it.
What kind of relationship did we have?
With tightly pressed lips, she nods. She's so close that I could kiss her lightly. We could embrace each other as if the past years didn't exist.
But they are there, and they stand insurmountably between us.
"Yes, I should have done that," she whispers tonelessly as if she's only just realizing it. "Forgive me. Please!"
Without any conscious decision on my part, my hand reaches up and brushes a strand of hair from her face. Then I shake my head. "You broke everything." And on so many levels.
Even if she hadn't shattered our trust, I couldn't forgive her. We wanted to dance and live, but she left me with none.
Her pleading gaze meets mine. "Tell me what I can do, and I'll do it."
For a moment, I scrutinize the woman who used to mean the world to me. Today, I don't know who she is anymore.
Accusingly, I look at her. I would love to believe her, but those times are over. "They're just words, Aurora. Words that mean absolutely nothing."
I won't patch up my wounds and hope they'll disappear on their own. I am no longer the person I was back then. On the other hand, Aurora shows me, with just one look, that she hasn't understood anything. And my next question will prove that.
I look at her expectantly. "Would you dance the mambo with me?"
As expected, she flinches. She can't do it. Because she can't let go of what was. Because she fears nothing more than giving up control. Being soft and vulnerable.
"Right in the middle of Paris. In front of the whole world?" I persist, well aware of how much it pains her.
She clenches her fists, bites her lip, and holds back her tears as if she's ashamed of them.
"Barefoot in the summer rain." I sound frustrated, and I am. Because her reaction speaks louder than all the empty words she spouted tonight. "At a concert by Joshua Friedberg."
With a pained expression, she lowers her gaze. And that gives me all the answers I need without a single meaningless word.
She's still the blind fighter. The control freak who doesn't trust anyone. Not even herself.
She's still her.
And one thing I know for sure. Even if I could forgive her, she would do absolutely nothing differently from back then.
I push myself up from the ground and dust off my pants.
"Au revoir, Aurora," I whisper tonelessly and turn to leave.
