The Dance We Remember (Love and Other Dreams #4)

Chapter 33

Aurora

Heavy moisture hangs in the air. Waves thunder and foam as they crash onto the shore and seep into the fine sand. The boat Maxime and I boarded just a few minutes ago sways from side to side, repeatedly hitting the pier.

I hold the railing and gaze out into the vastness of the Atlantic. The mist hovering over the sea seamlessly blends with the white-gray sky. The salty breeze whips my hair across my face.

Maxime steps beside me. "Hopefully, it won't rain," he says.

This is our first trip together since the miscarriage. Six weeks have passed, sticky and sluggish as they flowed past me. I lean my head against his shoulder. "Even if it does, it was a wonderful idea." Here on the Atlantic coast, everything seems more distant than in the confined space of Paris. There are no walls, nothing obstructing my view.

"Our memory box shouldn't remain empty," he says so softly that I can barely hear him amid the crashing waves.

A wistful smile crosses my face. "That's a beautiful thought." Currently, everything in the top drawer is from before. We need to move forward and create new memories again.

He wraps me in his arms, so gentle and lovingly that the broken pieces inside me come together for a moment. We sway back and forth in sync with the boat's motion.

"You're feeling better, aren't you?" he whispers in my ear.

I swallow hard but nod against his shoulder.

The boat's engine revs up, and we chug out into the sea. In an hour, we will reach the main island of ?les Chausey. The archipelago is said to be one of France's most fascinating natural wonders, even at the end of November. I'm genuinely looking forward to exploring the islands. This feeling is the first glimmer of hope I've had in weeks.

Because dancing is still a problem. A problem I must face. I've been avoiding it for too long, but today that will change.

"We should talk," I say with a heavy heart, pulling away from Maxime. I turn toward the railing, tilting my head so that the side wind blows my hair into my face.

He steps behind me. I feel his chest against my back and his arms around me. His fingers grip the wooden rail next to mine. "Okay," he says.

Everything inside me resists having this conversation. But I have no choice. "I can't do it, Maxime. I'm so sorry, incredibly sorry, but I can't."

As much as I want to fight for myself, I'm not able to do it right now. It's still hard for me to accept, but one thought helps me with that. I can still fight for Maxime, and that's exactly what I'm going to do now.

For a moment, his body tenses. "What do you mean?" he asks with a trembling voice.

"The dancing," I reply, my voice shaky.

A violent jolt almost tears us apart. Out here, the waves are wilder, and the spray splashes up to my forehead, running down my cheeks in fine droplets.

I place my hand on his. "Every time I try, the memories come flooding back. About... the championship." It's like a nightmare that continues to haunt me. My mind wants to conquer it, but my body refuses.

He doesn't react. I even think he's holding his breath.

Abruptly, I turn to face him. "I'm okay. I just need time. More time than we have," I say, feeling like the biggest failure.

I don't want to be so weak. But the struggle of the past weeks has exhausted me. The more I tried to hold myself together, the worse the memories caught up with me. And with them, the many questions for which there may never be an answer. I have failed, and today is the day I must admit that to myself and to Maxime.

It's time to let go.

"Maybe I'll never be able to dance again." My voice trembles, just like everything else about me. Because the pain that runs through me at this moment burns down any strength I have left.

Maxime says nothing. He looks at me with a mix of disbelief and sympathy.

I don't want his sympathy. What's happening between us right now is my fault. I have to bear this burden, no matter how awful it feels.

I take one more deep breath, then rise on my tiptoes to give him a kiss on the lips. "We wanted to dance and live, remember?" I ask, knowing that for weeks I've done neither.

He nods. His thumb gently traces my cheekbones.

"Just because I can't fulfill our dream right now doesn't mean you have to give it up too," I say, my throat tightening. Especially because he looks at me so desperately, and all I'm trying to do is give him the only thing I can still give him. I don't want this, but there is no other way.

He tilts his head as if trying to see something from a different angle that had been hidden from him until now. "What do you mean by that?" he asks.