Page 179 of In Love and Revenge

‘Loving someone isn’t just the highs, you know?’ she says, eyeing me with concern.

‘Excuse me?’

Her eyes shine with a rare vulnerability she never usually lets anyone see.

‘It isn’t just the highs,’ she repeats. ‘It’s sitting beside that person when their parents die. It’s holding their hand when they bring your children into the world. It’s bathing you if you get sick, feeding you when you’re hurting too much to eat. If Aurora comes back to you, then she’s choosing all of that. She’s telling you that she’ll be there for you in grief, chaos, uncertainty. The beautiful and the ugly.’

She rises from the sofa and looks me dead in the eye.

‘You did the right thing, Rafe. I’m proud of you. You gave her time to heal. And space to decide if you’re meant to be all of thatfor one another. It’s a big decision. And her taking her time to make it isn’t a bad thing. It means that if she comes back, then you can be sure it’ll all work out, no matter what else life throws at you.’

My throat thickens and I nod.

She walks to the door, but before she can leave, I call out, ‘What if she decides I can’t be all those things to her?’

She looks at me sadly. ‘Then you have my deepest sympathies.’

She turns and leaves, closing the door behind her.

I fall back into my desk chair, the air punched from my lungs. Aurora might never come back to me. And seeing the understanding in my sister’s eyes as she spoke told me something else.

Vance Falcon didn’t just break her heart once like we all thought he did.

He brokeher.

And it’s only because I know exactly what that feels like now that I recognise it in Dove.

If I ever see the bastard again, I’ll not just want to deck him like Angelo did, I’ll want to kill him.

My phone chimes with an alert, and I wipe my clammy palms on my trousers. I only have that sound set up for one thing.

Aurora has posted a new video.

Despite knowing it’ll only hurt to watch it, I pull my phone out and press ‘play’.

Her smile hits me first. It isn’t as bright, almost as if she’s worried, or cautious about something. Or ... nervous.

But maybe she just looks different because the sun isn’t streaming into the room like usual. In fact, it’s not even the same room she’s been filming in these past two months. An empty rail fills the screen behind her, flanked by a set of open shelving on either side. Both are empty.

Like me without her.

I lean forwards in my seat, squinting at the screen as she holds up a purse, showing off the little compartments in it.

A flash of fabric comes into the periphery of the shot as she repositions the camera.

My mouth goes dry.

She’s in my dressing room. She must have filmed this months ago, then only chosen today to upload it for some reason.

But her skin is bronzed, kissed in the same way the southern French sun has done to her in her newer videos. And her hair is longer, the same length as in her most recent videos.

I look closer, raking my eyes over her face, absorbing every detail.

I know her. I know every little piece of magic that makes herher. I’ve studied them all. Kissed each one.Loved them.

She puts the purse down and looks directly at the camera, her eyes glassy.

‘Sorry it’s a little bare in here. I have some unpacking to do.’