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

Chapter 47

Aurora

Anxiously, I shift from one foot to the other. My fingers intertwine but find no grip. The sun shines hot from the sky, and the backpack straps press into my shoulders. Beside me, the handlebars of the bicycles gleam brightly.

I try to calm my breath and gaze out into the expanse of Parc des Buttes-Chaumont. The meadows are populated by sun-seeking teenagers and playing children. Birdsong overlays the distant rustle of the city.

I glance at my wristwatch. It's 3:30 p.m.

A part of me can't believe I'm actually doing this. The other part is filled with fear.

Fear I won't be able to do what I've set out to do today.

Fear he will leave immediately.

Fear he won't show up at all.

A thousand times I've held my phone in my hand, ready to call Maxime. I've typed hundreds of messages. But every time, I've set it aside.

It's not right to pressure him. He's in control. He decides.

I repeat this to myself now as the urge to control the situation nearly overwhelms me.

I approach the bicycles and open the locks on the saddlebags to check their contents. The tapas are there. The towels too, as well as the blanket and underwear. The tickets are in the side pocket. I slip my arms out of the backpack straps, place the backpack on the gravel path, and unzip it.

Two T-shirts, two shorts, boxers.

Everything is there. Now, all that's missing is Maxime.

Will he come?

Trembling, I reach for my phone.

No calls, no messages.

In my desperation, I call Sky. "Has he said anything? Do you know anything?" I ask her nervously after a brief greeting.

"No," she sounds disappointed.

Immediately, a powerful nausea washes over me.

An old couple strolls arm in arm past me. They look at each other so lovingly that I have to bite my lip to drown out the pain inside me.

Sky lets out a strained sigh. "He didn't tell me anything about the card."

"What does that mean?" They talk about everything with each other. Why did he choose to keep this from her?

"I don't know," my friend responds sheepishly. "Maybe he didn't receive it at all?"

I hadn't even considered that possibility. "You mean the post might have lost it?"

"It's possible." She sounds hesitant.

It's possible but highly unlikely. Much more likely is that he received the card and decided to ignore it.

I press the nail of my little finger into the tip of my thumb, and laughter sounds from behind me. "He's not coming." Because he doesn't want to forgive me. Because he can't see a way for both of us to get close again.

"You don't know that," Sky hurries to say, trying to sound encouraging. "Maybe he didn't know how to deal with it. He wanted to sort it out on his own."

My shoulders become even heavier than they already were. I lower my eyes. The hands on the watch continue to move. "It's 3:35 p.m. The time is up."

"Maybe he got delayed," my friend replies, and once again, I'm grateful that at least she could forgive me.

I wish her conviction would be enough for both of us, but it isn't. "It would have been better to send him a letter."

I didn't want to pressure him.

But perhaps it was simply naive to believe that a few cryptic words on a postcard would be enough.

Seeking help, I look around the park, but my eyes find no anchor. I'm surrounded by elderly people reading newspapers, bustling activities, and screaming children. Over there, on the wooden bench, a white-haired man sits, staring into nothingness, alone.

"He will come," Sky mumbles, probably because she doesn't know what else to say.

Silently, I nod. "Yes," I reply and bid her farewell.

Neither of us can know what will happen in the next few minutes. No matter how convinced Sky is. And no matter how much I wish he would show up, I can't influence it.

Right now, my fate lies solely in Maxime's hands.