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

Chapter 40

Maxime

The spotlight focuses on the dance floor. It's so bright that I can't see the people in the audience. Nevertheless, I feel that Aurora is somewhere in this hall, gazing down at Alice and me with rapt attention as we take our starting position for the Viennese waltz.

My goal for this competition is clear. I want Aurora to be proud of me. So I focus on what lies ahead. This is the first of five selection rounds, and after each one, couples will be chosen to continue dancing, similar to a tournament.

Alice and I are well-prepared; we have synchronized ourselves after weeks of intense training, and when we dance the standard dances, it feels like we have been dancing together for years. All thanks to my little trick that I have perfected over time.

I glance at Alice. In my mind, I replace her blond hair with dark hair, her round face with an oval one, and her narrow lips with full ones. I smile, envisioning the fire in Aurora's eyes. She beams at me, nodding resolutely and stretching her body. The vibrant waltz music fills the room.

Let's begin.

We take the first steps and prepare for the open rotation. Gracefully, I turn to face the judges, and everything flows effortlessly. The choreography is perfect, just like my smile, which comes naturally, without any effort.

I keep an eye on the cameras for safety; the television network wants to assess how we appear on screen, so I smile at the camera.

Finally, it's time for our last rotation. At the final pose, we give it our all.

Thunderous applause from the test audience, who can vote for their favorite couple in the final round using buzzers, fills the room. In my imagination, the Aurora before me slowly transforms into the real Alice.

She winks at me, and I lift her from her backbend. Hand in hand, we turn toward the judges to bow. I only notice in passing the score cards the judges hold up at the command of the host.

"We did it," Alice whispers, probably grasping the situation faster than I do.

Finally, the room lights up. I search the rows of spectators.

Aurora is not behind the judges.

We turn to the right, bowing again. Now the cameraman is right in front of me, blocking my view. I shield my eyes with my hand against the bright camera light and stretch toward the left.

Once again, I don't spot Aurora in the crowd. As we turn again, this time toward the length of the dance floor, I take a bit longer to search for her among the people.

There she is!

Her hands clasp over her mouth as she watches us. It seems like she's happy. At least that's what I can make out in the dim light. Are tears glistening in her eyes? I fixate my gaze on her, sending her an I love you in my thoughts, and I stay in place until Alice pulls me off the dance floor.

"Next up is the rumba," Alice reminds me, completely out of breath. "Nothing can go wrong if we dance it just like before."

I look at her in surprise. How can she be so sure? It's simply impossible to know. "The competition is strong."

She rolls her eyes and lets out a sigh. "So what? We're better. Trust me."

Suddenly, Madame Durand is beside me. She's usually nervous during performances, but today she seems completely calm. "Thirsty?" she asks me, holding out a bottle of water.

"What's going on here?" I take the water from her, my gaze shifting between Alice and our boss.

My dance partner raises her shoulder with a meaningful grin. "Nothing."

Throughout the evening, I try to figure out what they're hiding from me. They won't tell me, but as we continue dancing round after round, heading toward the final, my suspicion grows that something is happening behind the scenes that I'm not supposed to know about.

Could it be something shady?

Of course, we want to perform in the gala show, but I want to win this selection competition fairly. I tell Alice this several times, and she brushes it off each time.

At least I catch glimpses of Aurora between the rounds, and she seems to become more emotional with each passing moment. Before the grand finale, tears stream down her cheeks so heavily that I can even see the damp trails on her skin from a distance. Suddenly, I'm not so sure anymore if she's crying out of joy or if she's actually incredibly sad.

Whatever it is, she stays, and that motivates me. Despite her pain, she wants to see me dance. So for the last time, I take Alice's hand and step onto the dance floor to perform the tango.

It's unusual to showcase only one dance in each selection round, but this is not a regular tournament. Here, only the rules of the television network apply.

"Mesdames et messieurs," the voice from the speakers announces, "are you ready for a surprise?"

The audience applauds, whistles can be heard, and a few spectators jump up from their seats. A surprise? I glance at Alice. "What's going on here?" I ask her in a hushed tone.

She licks her lips with her tongue and grins at me unabashedly. It's evident that she knows exactly what's going on. No, even more, I can't help but feel that she might have orchestrated it.

All evening, she's been acting strangely, exuding unwavering confidence, and discreetly observing me from the corner of her eye when she thinks I don't notice.

"What's going on here?" I repeat my question sternly, but once again, I get no answer.

"That was clear," the voice from the speakers takes command again as the audience falls silent. "Well, then it's time to inform you."

A murmur spreads through the hall.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the final dance will not be the tango." I involuntarily hold my breath. I don't like where this is going. "The couples will dance a mambo for you without any preparation. This will show who truly deserves the spotlight at France 2."

The audience can hardly contain their excitement while every muscle in my body freezes.

No. I won't dance the mambo.

"Come on, get into position." Alice steps in front of me, rises on her toes, and puts her arms on my shoulders.

"This can't be done!" I exclaim in shock, stepping back.

There it is again, that wicked grin. Only a fool wouldn't understand she's behind this charade.

I still don't grasp how it all fits together, but I realize why she's doing this.

She knows that the mambo belongs solely to Aurora and me. And she believes that if we both dance it, she can undermine our relationship.

In disbelief, I shake my head. Her lips sport a confident smirk. "Don't be such a baby," she whispers, pressing her pelvis against mine. "After all, you don't want to risk your career, do you?"

My gaze searches for Aurora, but the hall lights have already dimmed. I can only guess what's going through her mind right now.

Would she want me to dance this final dance?

My God, I don't know. All I know is that it feels terribly wrong. It felt that way from the beginning, yet my decision to dance with Alice has brought comfort to both Aurora and myself.

Since I returned to training, we've been happier. What would she think if I were to back out so close to the goal? Would she love me or hate me? Would she smile or cry?

Dammit, why don't I know? I should be as certain about this as I am about anything else in this world.

Have we been pretending to each other in the past weeks? Has the glass wall between us not disappeared but grown even thicker while I was busy believing in a better future?

No. Aurora's laughter was genuine. Her rosy cheeks, our shared dreams, our love. All of it is true. Just like Aurora's deep desire for me to dance for both of us while she can't.

She would want me to do it.

With tightly pressed lips, I hold Alice's waist and once again imagine I'm holding Aurora in my arms. Then I dance the mambo with Alice as if my life depended on it, and that's exactly how it feels.

I do it solely for Aurora, who would never stop fighting for what is important to her.

***

We won. Perhaps only because Alice's wealthy daddy pulled the right strings in the background. Perhaps because we were good.

Whatever the reason, it doesn't matter.

Not only is my position in the academy secured but my reputation as a professional dancer has once again been strengthened. I should be content, but my lips are too heavy to lift into a smile.

I feel dirty.

After Alice and I danced the mambo, Aurora was nowhere to be found.

I would have preferred to drive back to Paris immediately after the decision was announced, but Madame Durand insisted on celebrating our success extensively.

Now, hours later, I sink into the passenger seat of Madame Durand's minivan, and she continues to rave incessantly about our performance.

"And that final lift," she rambles once again. "No one in the hall stayed in their seat."

I reach into my jacket pocket and feel for the contract for the show, which will mean the world to Aurora. Despite the pain, she will be happy about our success, of that I am certain. After all, it is what she had wished for with all her heart.

Once I am home and can hold her in my arms, I will be able to feel happy too. No matter how rotten the game that Alice played with me today was.

Money rules everything. I've always known it, but that knowledge has reached a new level today.

If only I had a moment alone with Alice, I would have confronted her immediately. She thought she could escape me, but by Monday, that won't be possible anymore. With clenched fists, I look out into the darkness of the night.

Madame Durand chatters happily, but I'm not listening. I occasionally murmur in agreement, and that seems to be enough.

I sink deeper into my thoughts and imagine Aurora's face, which still shines despite the tears she shed today. Bittersweet yet hopeful. It feels like an eternity until we reach Paris, and then another half an hour until the car finally stops in front of my apartment building.

Madame Durand turns to me. "Congratulations, Maxime. You were amazing."

I try to force a smile. "See you at the academy on Monday."

"Come to my office at eight o'clock, and we'll discuss the next steps," she says energetically.

"Sure," I reply and peel myself out of the seat. Then I pause. "What was going on today, anyway?"

She raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

No matter how innocent she pretends to be, I can see that she knows exactly what I mean. "What did Alice's father do?"

"Now please, why so suspicious?" She huffs indignantly. "Just because he's the CEO of France 2 doesn't mean the selection wasn't fair."

Wait, what? He's the boss?

That's... beyond words.

"That you would condone something like this," I say, and in the same moment, I realize how ridiculous that sounds. Of course, she would. After all, it's about her job.

Now she reaches out her hand and pats my forearm. "That's just how business works. You better get used to it quickly."

I need to get out of here.

I forcefully swing the door open and jump out of the car. "Well then, sleep well," I say with a sarcastic tone to the boss and slam the car door shut. Then I dig the key to my apartment out of my pocket and run up to the second floor.

"I'm back," I call into the dark hallway as I enter the apartment. I waste no time taking off my shoes or closing the door. With the contract in hand, I walk into the kitchen-living room, where strangely, no lights are on. "Aurora?"

The room lies quietly before me, bathed in the diffuse light of the Parisian night.

Could she possibly be jogging now?

It's possible; I can imagine that she wanted to clear her head.

I walk back into the hallway, calling her name again and checking the shoe rack. Her sports shoes are missing. And her neon yellow multifunctional jacket is gone too.

But not just that.

The leather boots, the mid-height sneakers, and the fluffy slippers are also missing.

Has she rearranged everything again?

"Aurora!" Confused, I roam through the apartment. With each step I take, I notice more changes.

Her favorite pillow is no longer on the couch. The clothesline with the pictures of her family has disappeared.

What is going on?

A sense of unease takes hold of me and spreads rapidly within me. I rush into the bedroom and tear open the closet doors.

Her clothes are gone. In the bathroom, only a makeup stain on the glass shelf under the mirror reminds me of her. Her hairdryer, nail file, and colorful jars—everything is gone.

What the hell...?

Panicked, I storm back into the living room. Our box is there. I step closer and pull out the top drawer. She left our memories behind.

What does this mean?

In the second drawer, I find a folded note. With trembling fingers, I reach for it. I'm sorry , it says. Under the word "sorry," the paper forms a circular wave. The spot is still moist.

The only explanation for all this slowly seeps into my mind like poison into fertile soil.

She left me.

Every damn day, I fought for our love. I fulfilled every small wish she had. I would have shared any imaginable life with her. I faced my greatest fear to be happy with her again.

And now she disappears without a word of explanation?

"This can't be true." I slump down. An infinite void spreads inside me, devouring my stomach, then my lungs, and finally my heart.

There's nothing left of me. Just one single question that dominates the feeble remainder of myself. So much so that I already know I'll never be able to ignore it.

Why the hell did she do this?