36
“You say it started when you took over the shop, which means it’s been going on since the first day I met you. Imagine how that makes me feel.”
“I know it wasn’t right not to tell you. But when exactly is the right time to tell someone that you sit around at night chatting with characters from books?”
“I don’t know, but more than three weeks before our wedding seems about right.”
They’d been talking for over an hour, breakfast half eaten and abandoned on the dining table.
With all that talk, Aurelia hadn’t managed to smooth the waters or make him feel better.
It was hard to defend herself when she knew his hurt and anger were fair, but it was even harder to see that hurt and anger written on his face and to know she’d put it there.
“Were you ever going to tell me?”
His question was like a punch to her gut. For the first time, she fully understood the gravity of a decision she’d made long ago and what it meant for their relationship.
“Yes. Of course I was! I just kept waiting for the right moment…” She stopped herself from adding that one of the characters had given her that advice. “But it never seemed like the right time, and then with the wedding coming up—I decided to tell you after Julia left.”
“And while you waited for the ‘right moment,’ you thought it was fine to keep a major part of your life completely separate from me?”
“I just didn’t see any other way. Until now, I was the only person experiencing this wild thing. At least Julia can hear them now, and there’s someone else who can back me up and say they’ve seen them too.”
“But that’s not why you finally told me, is it? It wasn’t because you wanted to be open with me or because it finally seemed like the right time, Aurelia. You told me because you had to—Julia forced your hand when she told Antonia.”
“No, I was going to tell you! I had a plan to tell you after Julia left, and I knew I had to do it—that I couldn’t wait any longer.”
“You didn’t trust me,” Oliver continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “You didn’t have the faith in me that you’ve just been asking me to have in you.”
“You’re right—I see it all now and everything I should have done differently.
But when it started, it seemed too complicated to ask someone to believe me.
I didn’t even tell Antonia, and I tell her everything!
Then, when we started dating, I was already so used to hiding it, I guess… it just came naturally by that point.”
“You’ve been leading this double life, right under my nose.”
“I know it feels that way, like something sneaky and deceitful, but I never intended to trick you. I thought I was protecting you—us.”
“You were protecting yourself.”
“Yeah, that too. Okay.” Aurelia nodded. All of his points were hitting home, with force.
“But the risk of telling anyone, Oliver—what would you have done? Sent me off somewhere? That’s what Antonia was threatening when she found out.
And what would I have told a doctor? ‘Oh, yes, I’ve been having chats with a few Dickens characters at night.
That’s totally normal, though, right? Nothing to be alarmed about? ’”
“I’m not saying it would have been an easy thing to do, but that doesn’t make not doing it right. And those chats, Aurelia… How many hours have you spent down there? Probably as much or even more time than you’ve spent with me?”
“Not more, no!”
Aurelia was shocked at the idea, but then realized that she might have spent nearly equal amounts of time with him and the characters over the years.
He was at work during the day, after all, and slept through her nightly visits with them.
But before she had time to process that fact, Oliver was moving on.
“There are the lies…” He trailed off with a sigh. “But then there’s also the fact that you’ve spent your nights with people—characters—and had entire conversations and experiences that you never even told me about. That’s hard to take, too.”
Aurelia wanted to apologize again and again, but the words ‘I’m sorry’ seemed wholly inadequate. He was pacing now, and she sat on the sofa watching him, her legs drawn up beneath her.
“And how have you managed to get your writing done when you’re down there at night and working in the shop all day?” he asked. “You wrote two whole novels while working full time and hanging out with characters all night?”
“Well, the characters helped me with the first one. Vronsky and I would come up with ideas and write together at night, and then I’d write when I could during quiet spells in the shop during the day.”
He looked as though she’d slapped him.
“You and Vronsky wrote the novel? Together?”
“We did, in a way. He was so unhappy at the end of his novel, and we figured out that one way to help him was to write him a new story that we could set out on the table.”
“Then it was just the two of you in the shop all night, banging out a novel?”
“No, there was a group of characters that first time,” Aurelia explained slowly. She didn’t like his tone; it was no longer expressing hurt but something colder. “All of the characters were there with us while we wrote.”
“You having to check my edits with Count Vronsky, telling me he wouldn’t say or do something, that was a joke between us. But now you’re telling me it was a private joke I wasn’t in on?”
“No!”
The word was practically ejected from her mouth as she jumped to her feet.
“I loved you teasing me about that—we were in on that together, you and me. It felt like I was sharing it with you, in a way. Actually, if I hadn’t started writing with him, I wouldn’t have had any reason to reach out to you,” she offered eagerly, thinking this might be a saving grace.
“Once we decided to try and publish Vronsky’s story, that’s when James set up our lunch and you and I started working together. ”
“The only reason you and I are together is because Count Vronsky wanted his book published,” he said flatly. “It was all part of the big lie and I had no idea.”
“No, Oliver—”
“And you didn’t write the book on your own.”
“That’s not true—those are absolutely my words!
” Aurelia was willing to take her lumps, but not to the point of letting Oliver believe—incorrectly—that her first novel wasn’t her own.
“Vronsky and the other characters helped come up with ideas about what should happen, but it’s my writing.
Vivienne and others in the book, they’re my characters. ”
“Even so… This book that I thought was something special between us was actually something special between you and Vronsky.”
“Oh, Oliver—no—I’ve never thought of it like that.”
She was horrified by the leaps and bounds he was making.
She’d always been so focused on telling Oliver about the characters in general; she’d never thought about what would come after—that he’d have questions about who she’d met and what they’d talked about.
As much as she knew he had it wrong, that he was jumping to conclusions that weren’t true, she understood each jump and felt terrible for not anticipating it.
“It was special between you and me,” she said desperately. “It’s how I fell in love with you. It’s what brought you and me together.”
“You, me, and Count Vronsky, apparently.”
“Please don’t make this something it isn’t. Vronsky and I were friends, great friends, but it was all about helping him. I gave him a love interest! I even met her after the book was published, and they were very happy together!”
“You met Vivienne?” He softened momentarily, but then the solidity of his hurt and anger returned. “Look, I think I need to take some time to work all of this out. I just need to think for a while, figure out what this means for us, for me.”
“Okay, I understand,” Aurelia said, her tone conciliatory. “I can clear out for a few hours.”
She moved toward the stairs as though to leave, but he raised a hand to stop her.
“No, I’m going to go. I’d rather think away from the shop.”
He walked toward the bedroom and Aurelia followed. She watched as he picked up his suitcase, not yet put away after his return yesterday, and opened it.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m just going to throw a few things together.”
He opened drawers and took out clothes.
“But… Where are you going?”
“I’ve just said—I need some time to think.”
“You’re leaving?”
Aurelia’s breathing became ragged as she fought back a sob.
“Please don’t do this. Please stay and let’s work this out. I’m sorry! I am so, so sorry.”
She stood limply in the middle of the room, wanting him to look at her, to say he didn’t mean it, that everything would be fine.
“Oliver, please… stay. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Aurelia. But right now you’ve got to give me some space.”
He walked into the bathroom and grabbed his toiletry kit, still intact after his trip. She followed behind him, then had to let him by as he made his way back into the bedroom. Tears were flowing down her face now.
“What can I say to make you stay? Don’t go—you need to stay here so we can work this out.”
He zipped his suitcase closed and carried it to the bedroom doorway, where she stood barring his way.
“Please, Aurelia.”
She considered refusing to move, then thought of all the decisions she’d made that had gotten them to this point.
The lies and secrets had been all hers. She thought she would break if he walked through the door but also knew that she owed him this after everything she’d left unsaid these past few years.
She nodded and stepped aside, her hand reaching out to brush his arm as he passed.
He walked to the staircase and she followed him, then stood staring as he stepped down them at speed.
He didn’t turn as he closed the door behind him at the bottom of the stairs, and she let a cry escape her.
Stumbling to the windows overlooking the square, she wiped at the tears that had started falling so she could see him clearly once he emerged from the shop.
She began crying in earnest, now, barely able to catch a breath.
There—he began crossing the square and she waited, hoping, but he didn’t turn to wave back at her.