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

Chapter 54

Maxime

At a concert by Joshua Friedberg.

I have no idea where the music is coming from; I only feel it permeating me as I stare in disbelief at Aurora's outstretched hand.

She wants to dance with me?

I swallow hard against the indescribable feeling that spreads inside me—a mixture of astonishment and disbelief. But there is something else: hope.

Beside me, I hear a rattling sound, but I don't look. My eyes are solely fixed on Aurora, standing barefoot before me in a simple white summer dress. Her hair gently falls over her shoulders, and her gaze is full of brave determination. Behind her, the evening sky glows in intense shades of orange.

She nods toward my shoes.

As if in a trance, I kick them off.

Barefoot.

I take her hand. It trembles yet exudes so much confidence that it's enough for me too.

One last time, I look deeply into her eyes. "Are you sure?" I ask incredulously.

"I've been running away for too long," she answers. "It's time to let go."

To the rhythm of the music, she steps closer to me, pressing her back against my chest. I place my hand on her belly, intertwining our fingers. Her scent surrounds me, and her warmth tingles on my skin.

Our bodies merge into one as we both wait for our cue.

Now.

Aurora sways her hips, and I follow suit. We bend our knees slightly and rise back up again.

What we've done so far doesn't count as dancing. But that changes now. I give her the impulse for a turn, and at the same moment, I feel her body stiffen.

She can't do it. Not yet.

What does that mea…?

Before I can complete the thought, she twirls around and transitions into the basic step of the mambo in open position. Dancing, she smiles at me.

Even if I wanted to, I couldn't escape this moment.

I see a woman with infinite fire in her eyes, a fire that speaks only of love. Someone who is ready to embrace her destiny. An Aurora whose heart beats today with an intensity that the mind cannot comprehend.

I, too, now take the first dance steps, and with every second, I feel the weight of the past years falling away from me.

We dance the mambo in the heart of Paris.

We whirl across the square, and suddenly, my hair becomes damp. At first, it's just a few drops, but soon countless raindrops pour down on me.

In the summer rain.

I don't understand where the rain is coming from, and that doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is Aurora and the fact that we are dancing together again after all this time. The fact that the visitors of the Sacré-C?ur form a semicircle around us registers only at the periphery, just like their enthusiastic cheers.

Before the eyes of the whole world.

My God. She has actually made it come true. What we dreamed so intensely is happening right now, in this very moment.

The music swells, and the crowd claps in rhythm. I dance so freely that I no longer feel the wet ground beneath my feet. Only the two of us count. And with just one glance at Aurora's face, I know that she feels the same way.

There is no fear or worry. No inhibitions or pain. And I know for sure: Earlier in the ice bar, she wasn't lying. She is no longer the Aurora from the past who desperately needs to control everything.

This is a new Aurora. One with whom I could spend the rest of my life. She presses her warm, damp body against mine, positions her right thigh between my legs, and sways her hips. I rest my cheek against hers and lose myself in our movement, merging with her and the music, with the moment and the feeling as if a firework lights up the sky above us in all colors.

From now on, there is only Aurora and me. Our dance. Our hope. And our love, which has not only endured our shared tragedy and both of our mistakes but also all the years of our separation.

I feel it deep within me as I dance with her, and step by step, we become the couple we were always meant to be.

As the music fades and the roaring applause spreads, I have no intention of letting Aurora go. Instead, I turn her toward me.

"Every storm comes to an end someday," she whispers, full of conviction. "And some storms can only be defeated by letting go and trusting that after the rain, there will be sunshine."

I caress her cheek and nod in agreement because I have no words to express it better.

With a smile, she takes my hands. "There's something I want to say," she calls out over the loud applause of the people around us, which slowly fades into expectant silence.

Only now do I realize where the rain came from earlier. Sky made it for us. With a water container, a pump, a ladder, and a garden hose. I grin to myself. Aurora spared no effort to make this memory come true as detailed as we had dreamed it to be.

Yet, in truth, I have only one dream left—that we can finally be happy together.

We just achieved that dream, and now, at this moment, I swear to myself that it will stay that way forever.

Aurora's gaze demands my attention, which I gladly give her.

"I don't know what you're thinking. I don't know what you feel. I don't know what you want, and I don't know which path is right," she says loudly enough for everyone to hear. "But one thing I know for sure. I'll listen when you want to say something." She smiles gently at me. "I'll hold you when you want to be silent." Her eyes become watery. "And I'll trust us, no matter how dark the night may be."

Everything about her trembles, and I pull her close to me.

"Do you trust me?" she asks, sounding as if she needs to muster all her courage.

With loving eyes, I gaze into her face. "Do you trust yourself?"

Like this afternoon in the ice bar, she nods. But unlike before, I see nothing but hope in her expression instead of fear.

She lifts her chin and looks up at me. The warmth of the last rays of the sun reflects in her eyes. Thick droplets run like sparkling diamonds down her cheeks. They are everywhere on her face, but their radiance cannot outshine the one in her eyes. I watch a droplet travel along her nose and make its way down to her lips, where it gets caught on her cupid's bow.

I can't and don't want to deny it any longer, especially not to myself.

All these years, I never stopped loving this woman. My anger toward her saved me from my despair, and my relentless search for the "why" was a shield against my inner emptiness.

I no longer carry anger, despair, or obsession within me. What remains is love, the dance, and hope.

I lean down to her and kiss the droplet from her lips. I only taste the slightly salty flavor for a moment because as Aurora gently reciprocates my kiss, all I taste is the unique sweetness of our love, which I've missed for so long.

Every storm comes to an end someday , Aurora said a few moments ago, and as we sink into our kiss, I know that our storm is now behind us.

It changed us.

Mastering it made us stronger.