Chapter 44 Aurora
Aurora
I peer inside the cupboard and pick up a crisp tube, expecting it to carry more weight, but it’s like a feather in my hand. I give it a little shake and the sound of leftover shards rattle inside the tube like a sad maraca.
‘I eat them when I’m missing you so badly that I feel like I might pass out.’
I whirl at the sound of his deep voice and the tube clatters to the floor.
Molten bronze irises are waiting to anchor me to them. The sight of them again is enough to make tears rush to my eyes.
Rafael remains rooted to the spot in his kitchen doorway. I don’t know how long he’s been there, watching me. But I doubt it’s been long, because even from across the room my body recognises his presence. It’s like a wave flowing through me, starting at my toes and working its way to my head.
He runs his tongue over his lower lip, his confession delivered with a quiet huskiness that warms my skin.
‘And then I wish I had passed out. Because maybe I wouldn’t wake up.’
‘Don’t ever say that. Please don’t ever say that,’ I choke out in a strained whisper.
He holds my eyes. ‘Those first fractions of a second when I wake are the worst. Because my brain’s a bloody sadist. It lets me forget that I won’t turn and see you there, lying beside me. It lets me have a moment of denial. One where I didn’t lose the best thing that’s ever happened to me.’
My mouth goes dry, wishing he would move. Step closer. Reduce this gap between us that feels like a chasm. Because even though I want to go to him, my body’s frozen, unable to do anything other than soak in the sensation of breathing the same air as him once again.
Two months.
It’s been an amazing time with my father. But there wasn’t a second that went by that I didn’t think of Rafael and wonder what he was doing and how he was. How he really was.
I allow myself a slow sweep of him, taking in his pristine suit – a grey one with a fine white pinstripe – complete with matching waistcoat, and his starched white shirt beneath it.
The faint lines he gets around his eyes when he’s tired are deeper, more defined.
And they’re framing what I can only describe as windows to a soul that’s been shattered, but is determined to keep going, for there’s still a glimmer of hope, alongside the bronze flecks.
His attention drops to the gold sequin top I’m wearing, and he fixates on it as his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat like he’s barely holding himself together.
‘Your chateau is beautiful.’
That gets his attention, and I can’t help but feel relieved when he meets my eyes again.
I smile softly.
‘I know you, Rafe. And there are only so many people it could have belonged to. Plus my father would change the subject every time I asked him.’
He clears his throat. ‘I rarely visit. I don’t keep anything personal there, I didn’t think you’d notice. I hope . . .’ He winces. ‘I hope it being mine didn’t—’
‘It was perfect. Thank you for letting us stay there.’
He nods curtly.
‘Where is your father?’
Joy that the answer is no longer ‘in prison’ makes my chest lift.
‘Looking at properties. He’s been talking to a solicitor. He’s going to be compensated for being wrongly convicted. He should get enough to buy somewhere for himself.’
‘For himself?’
‘Yes.’
Rafael stares at me, his expression unreadable, and it hits me . . . He isn’t going to come to me. He’s waiting for me. He’s handing the control over to me.
I take a deep breath.
‘I’m moving back into my old place,’ I announce.
He still doesn’t move.
‘Raf—?’
‘Tell me you don’t mean that hovel where Mike is your neighbour,’ he growls.
I bite back a shocked laugh. So much has changed, but not everything. Rafael Fairfax is still a dreadful snob.
And I love him.
‘I mean the one where my roommate likes to imprison me inside his arms as he sleeps,’ I say.
‘It’s the only thing that keeps his nightmares away,’ he replies without missing a beat.
My throat aches and I slowly move towards him.
‘No secrets this time. No lies. Complete honesty,’ I whisper.
He still doesn’t move. It’s like he can’t bring himself to in case I change my mind.
‘I swear on Freddie’s life.’ He lowers his voice. ‘I swear on my life.’
I stop directly in front of him. Holding his eyes, I lift my hand and place it over his chest where the scar sits beneath the fabric.
He sucks in a sharp breath, his pupils blowing wide.
It’s the first contact we’ve had in two months. And the deep thrum of his heart pushes against my palm like it’s trying to jump into it. Trying to sacrifice itself to me.
He screws his face up like he’s in pain.
‘Every beat is yours, Aurora,’ he breathes. ‘You know that.’
‘I know.’
We stare at one another in silence as his heartbeat against my skin speaks for us.
‘I’ve watched every one of your videos. Every single one you’ve ever made,’ he says in a hoarse confession.
My breath hitches. ‘What do you mean, every one?’
His gaze roams over my face. ‘I’ve watched them since the first time Dove started talking about you. Telling us all about this brilliant new friend she’d made. I thought my reaction to you was a passing attraction. Something I’d never act on because you were my sister’s friend.’
‘You never told me you watched them all before . . . I thought . . .’ I stare at him, struggling to process what he’s telling me. ‘I thought you always hated me.’
‘I wanted you first. I wanted you so damn much, even though I knew I shouldn’t.
Until the day I lost two hundred and forty million pounds.
And suddenly watching your videos became a compulsion that I couldn’t feed enough, no matter how hard I tried.
I was obsessed, trying to figure out how I’d been deceived.
I thought you must have known about your father – how could you not?
I questioned whether I’d been blinded by lust, fooled by this attraction.
I don’t get fooled, Aurora. I calculate for every risk, every possibility.
I didn’t understand how there could be one I missed right under my nose.
‘And I was angry at myself. So goddamn angry. I kept hearing my father’s words circling in my head.
Telling me I was a disappointment, a failure.
Like the Wyndham case all over again. So, I continued watching you, telling myself it was a way of seeking revenge.
But all it did was root you deeper inside me until I couldn’t imagine existing in a world that didn’t have you in it.
I found my reason for everything instead. You.’
I nod, hot tears streaming down my face at how raw and honest we’re being.
This is what we need.
This is our new start.
‘I thought I hated you every time you made a comment about my father. But, really, I hated myself for not being able to get him out of there. Except when you actually were an arsehole, and then I think I actually did hate you.’ I sniff through a small laugh.
‘At least, as much as I could, knowing the way Dove talks about you. I knew you weren’t as awful as you were being.
I knew there was a good man underneath it all.
I just didn’t know why you wouldn’t let me see him. ’
I step closer and Rafael breathes in slowly, watching me.
‘Letting you close to me meant having a harsh look at myself. And I wasn’t ready, not in the beginning,’ he rasps.
I nod again, a sob breaking free.
Rafael reaches up and gently wipes my tears away with his thumb. I lean into his palm, savouring every millimetre of where our skin connects.
‘I cried for two days straight after you flew away in that helicopter. Some were tears of sadness that you’d gone; some were happiness that I had my father back.
You gave him back to me. You thought you weren’t the man I deserved, but you always were.
I just needed to process the hurt first. I hated that you lied to me, but I never blamed you for what you did.
It was a job, like your father said. It’s probably one of the only things I’ll ever agree with him on.
But I didn’t really blame you. I just wanted to hurt you, because you’d hurt me. ’
‘You’re the only woman, other than my mother, whose tears have ever meant anything to me. And the one who I hope I never cause to shed them ever again. I’m so sorry. Lying to you was the biggest regret of my life. I’m not—’
‘Don’t tell me you aren’t a good man.’ I sniff. ‘Dad told me how hard you campaigned to get him out. That you visited him every week and took it public. And he showed me this.’ I pull the newspaper clipping from the back pocket of my jeans.
I unfold it, but he doesn’t need to see it to know what’s on it.
It’s him. Looking determined, dressed in an impeccable navy suit and matching waistcoat as he strides out of number ten Downing Street.
‘Only you could get a bloody meeting with the prime minister about my father’s case,’ I snort.
He doesn’t even acknowledge the paper in my hand. His eyes are trained on mine like he never wants to look away.
‘I wish I’d done it months ago.’
‘Sometimes the right things still happen. Even if they’re delayed.’
His brow creases, notching the intensity in his gaze up to blistering as he searches my eyes. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying I forgive you. I forgave you a long time ago. And I still love you. I always will.’
I place my hand back over his chest and it’s there, beneath my palm, a stutter in the rhythm of his heart as he processes my words. As he understands them.
‘You love me, Beau—’ He catches himself, wincing like he’s in physical pain.
‘Say it,’ I urge. ‘I’ve missed you saying it.’
His pupils flare.
‘You love me . . . Beauty?’ he whispers, all deep, and gravelly, and delicious, as he finally slides a hand around my lower back and pulls me into him.
‘I do. More than anything.’
‘And you forgive me?’
‘Yes,’ I sob.