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

Chapter 50

Maxime

Instead of her glasses, she now wears contact lenses. It's as if she thinks she can conjure up the old days. Aurora looks at me expectantly, her face now filled with hope. But a part of me already feels that it was wrong to give in. I should have turned around and walked away.

She lovingly stows the memory chest into one of the saddlebags on her bike, locks it with the security chain, and then reaches for my hand. "Come with me," she says breathlessly, and a split second later, she pulls me with her onto the grass beside the gravel path.

I immediately release my fingers from hers. We are not a couple. We are strangers, and that won't change as we walk toward the rock that juts steeply into the bright blue sky in the middle of Parc des Buttes-Chaumont.

What does she want here?

When we reach the base of the rock, she turns to face me. Her expression carries an air of expectation, yet it cannot hide the fear I see beneath it—a kind of fear I've never seen in her before. "Are you ready?" she asks.

I shrug. "For what?"

"For a memory," she replies, her eyes gleaming.

A memory? What does she mean?

Caught between the knowledge that I should run away from here quickly and the curiosity of what awaits me inside, I follow her until an entrance of sorts opens up in the rock. A gust of cool air greets us, and I also hear the sound of running water.

Surely she wouldn't…?

No. She probably doesn't even remember. And it was nothing more than a daydream, a joke, not a real plan.

However, a short while later, we stand before a waterfall fed by an otherworldly stream. Sunlight filters through the opening through which the water enters, bathing the interior of the cave in magical light.

Is this her way of trying to convince me to give her another chance? She can't be serious. Has she understood anything at all?

"Listen, this…" I don't get to finish my sentence because at that moment, I turn to Aurora and see that she has stripped off her backpack, pants, and shirt.

She stands before me in her underwear. I look at her, shocked. At our reunion, I already suspected it, but seeing it so clearly now is something else. Her hip bones jut out sharply, as do her shoulders, collarbones, and knees.

Is she suffering from an eating disorder?

"We both have suffered in these past years," she says, and it's only because I have the proof before my eyes that I continue the thought.

What if she was really so convinced she was doing the right thing that she was willing to break herself in the process?

A frightening thought. Still, it changes nothing. She should have trusted me.

She smiles wistfully while I stare at her in disbelief. "And because of my mistake, we missed out on so much," she continues, uncertain, more so than I have ever seen her before. Then she points at the waterfall behind her. "You remember, don't you?"

"To shower under a waterfall," I say, trying to sound dry and push my chaotic emotions aside.

I fail, and to top it off, memories of the moment when this dream was born come flooding back.

It was our last evening together.

My God, we had so many plans. Much more than just showering under a waterfall.

Aurora's tense facial muscles give way. "Let's do it," she pleads with me.

No. Doing it now would be foolish. Besides, it won't change anything. It would only scratch the surface of the problem, and that's ultimately what drove us apart back then.

Earlier, when she wanted to leave the decision up to me, whether I should stay or go, for a moment, I thought Aurora might have actually understood something. And although I see with my own eyes the marks her escape has left on her, I know I must pull the emergency brake—immediately.

Defensively, I raise my hands. "It won't change anything." I want to sound determined, but my tone is as fragile as thin glass.

Aurora walks toward the waterfall, her fingers gliding over the moss-covered stones on the side. "It's your decision," she says.

It's your decision , echoes in me.

She stretches her toes into the rushing water, and a squeak escapes her mouth before she steps into the water basin between the stones at the foot of the waterfall with a sharp intake of breath. She turns to look at me, her eyes filled with significance, and my foolish heart skips a beat.

Then she steps backward under the waterfall, becoming soaked within seconds.

With trembling lips and a penetrating gaze, she stands there. Water droplets bead on her beautiful face, bouncing off her bony shoulders, flowing like a raging river between her breasts.

"This is amazing!" she calls out over the sound of the water, extending her arms shakily.

I study her face intently. Nothing in her expression is defiant.

Could this actually be true? Or is she pretending?

I have no idea. All I know is that a part of me longs to do it.

This part wants to experience what I looked forward to so much back then. It wants to be who I always wanted to be. It wants to live again and to hope again.

I could shower under this waterfall. What would it matter? It doesn't mean anything, anyway.

"It won't change anything," I quickly say. She needs to know this; I don't want to raise false expectations.

She nods wistfully. "I know."

Hesitantly, I unbutton my shirt, let my jeans fall to the ground, and approach the waterfall.

With each step, the glimmer in Aurora's eyes intensifies. It's as if a force of nature is taking possession of me, but the prison bars behind which I locked my heart hold firm.

Then I dip my feet into the cool water. Goose bumps spread rapidly across my body. I wade toward Aurora and only stop when I feel the water droplets bouncing off her shoulders onto my skin.

"It won't change anything," I say again, more for myself than for her. Then I step under the waterfall alongside her.

The cool torrent tingles on my skin, and I can't help but let out a shout. Aurora joins in, and for a moment, it feels like I'm screaming out all the burdens of the past years.

I want to let go of all of this.

I want to start anew.

It's only a moment when everything seems possible. But as soon as we finish our waterfall shower, I realize once again that it was an illusion. "Just because we lived a memory together doesn't mean that..." I begin.

She raises her hand. "Absolutely not."

I look at her in surprise. The Aurora of the past would have grinned challengingly now and cheekily claimed that I was mistaken. The Aurora of today quietly walks over to her backpack, takes out towels, and hands one to me.

Thoughtfully, I take it from her. I'm not quite sure what this is all supposed to be about, but I feel it could be about more than lost memories.

Wait a minute.

Is this really true, or is it just what I want to believe? While I desperately try to distinguish between dream and reality, Aurora reaches into her backpack again. She takes out a small screw-top jar and fills it with water from the waterfall. "For the memory box," she says with a smile.

So it's all about the memories and nothing more. Although it shouldn't, disappointment spreads through me. "Do whatever you want," I say with a harsh tone. "I have to go now, anyway."

She gasps. "You promised me three hours," she quickly replies.

That's true. And I shouldn't be surprised that she insists on it. She is who she is.

Shaking my head, I watch her securely store the screw-top jar and produce something from the fabric in her backpack.

That's one of my boxer shorts!

"Where did you get...?" I don't finish the question because the answer is obvious. "Sky." She was involved in Aurora's plans and kept it from me. On the other hand, I didn't tell her about the map either.

I don't know why I'm still here. Too many thoughts occupy me, so I simply do what Aurora does and slip back into my clothes.

"Off to the next memory," she says as she pats her hair dry.

She shouldn't look at me like that. Because, as if on its own, my mind travels back to the evening when our ideas were born, and it's all too easy to remember each and every one of them.

Whatever she has planned, all the dreams we dreamed back then, she certainly can't make them come true today.

What she intends to do with the bikes is clear. But we can't fly to Japan and New York within a few hours. And how does she expect to get into the cockpit of an airplane?

Stop, Maxim. It doesn't matter. Don't forget what this is really about , I admonish myself. Yet I can't easily suppress my curiosity.

As if she enjoys my confusion, Aurora grins mischievously. "I told you I could retrieve everything."

"Everything?" That would be...

She nods with significance. "Everything."