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

Chapter 39

Aurora

With the steady rumbling of the train in my ears, I rest my head against the windowpane. The day on the other side of the scratched glass is bright and cheerful as if it wants to grant me the confidence I've been unsuccessfully seeking within myself today.

In an hour, Sky and I will arrive in Lyon. We will find seats in the audience, the lights will dim, and music will fill the air.

Sky nudges me. "Chocolate raisins?"

I spot the pack in her hand. The sweet little treats look tempting, but I shake my head.

"That bad?" She furrows her brow.

For a moment, I consider lying to her. It would be easy to let her believe that it's just about the fact that I still can't dance.

But that's no longer the real issue.

I'm terribly afraid that I won't be able to bear tonight. Yes, I wanted Maxime to dance with Alice. But watching them might be too much for me to handle.

No. I have to get through this, and I'll stay strong.

She pops a chocolate raisin into her mouth. "Aurora?"

Sighing, I lean my head back against the headrest and turn my gaze outside, where the wintry landscape passes by.

Bare trees.

Brown meadows.

Power lines.

Perhaps I should finally let it out; otherwise, it will eventually consume me from within. Maybe sharing my fear with Sky will help?

The image of Maxime and Alice has haunted my mind a million times.

Again and again, I've imagined them beaming at each other. How they lean against each other. How full of life they are while I slump in the spectator stands like a plant deprived of water for far too long.

I should tell Sky all of this and admit how helpless I feel in the face of that vision, but the wall within me is just too tall.

"I miss dancing," I say absentmindedly because that's also true.

"When was the last time you tried?" Sky asks in a gentle voice.

The train rushes into a tunnel. Suddenly, it's dark.

"That was weeks ago." To be precise, it was just before I convinced Maxime to continue without me. I struggle with myself, but I can't win. It wears me down, and a part of me knows that I have to stop tormenting myself with it. But the other part can't let it go. I wanted to dance on the grand stages of the world so that Mamma, wherever she is now, could smile.

The neon light on the train's ceiling flickers.

"Mm-hmm," Sky replies, probably not sure how to react herself.

It's twisted how wrong this is going. I know that, yet I can't do anything about it.

I would give anything to go back to the day of the French Championship. Then I would admit to myself that I need a break. I would tell Maxime I don't feel well, and he would encourage me to rest.

T he championship will wait for us , he would say, and he'd brush the hair away from my face.

That would be the moment when I would give in. We would drive back home, I would rest, and he would make me tea. We would still be pregnant. We would dance—at least at home, just for ourselves. Everything would be alright.

A violent jolt pulls me out of my thoughts. I turn my head to look at Sky. "Do you sometimes wish you could turn back time?"

"Constantly." She lowers the pack of chocolate raisins as if something spoiled her appetite. "But we can't change the past. All we have is the future."

The future. The one where Maxime and I build the family we both long for. He has been doing that since he found out about my pregnancy. And I have been doing that since I recklessly risked this pregnancy and lost something whose value I hadn't fully realized before. I feel the corners of my mouth lifting. What if fate ultimately took the choice between dancing and having a family out of my hands, a choice I couldn't have made myself?

"Maybe we need to rethink our lives," I say, turning to Sky, whose eyes widen in surprise.

"What do you mean?" Her full attention is on me; I can feel it.

"Maybe it's okay to admit when you can't do something," I add absentmindedly, wondering at the same time if that's really true or if I'm just trying to convince myself.

My best friend puts away her chocolate raisins. "Where are these insights coming from all of a sudden?"

Just as I'm about to answer, my phone rings. I take it out of my handbag.

Unknown caller . I recognize the area code as someone calling me from a Paris landline.

Strange. Who could it be?

"Go ahead and answer, I need to wash my hands anyway," Sky waves her chocolate-covered fingers and gets up from her seat. "I'll be right back, looking forward to your answer."

I nod at her, then look down at my phone again and answer the call. "Bonjour."

"Mademoiselle Olivetta?"

"Oui." Beyond the train window, the vast plains of the Paris outskirts come into view again. The sunlight blinds me.

"I apologize for calling so late," says a female voice that sounds somehow familiar. In the next second, I already have a suspicion of who is on the other end of the line.