Chapter 23 Mabel #2
“She has two girls, and they look just like me. Just like me, Roar. Same hair and eyes and face. Same everything. And I know it’s not rational, I know it’s not, but I can’t stop thinking that they were her do-over, you know?
Like she got it wrong with me but right with them.
They get the birthdays, and the vacations, and the back-to-school photos, and I got dumped at a fucking fire station with a blanket and a bottle.
Why are they enough, but I wasn’t? Why did they deserve the happy family fairy tale, and I didn’t?
What was wrong with me? Why wasn’t I enough for her? ”
Aurora lifts her hands, still entwined with mine, to my chin and tilts it until our gazes lock.
“You are more than enough, Mabel. I can’t speak for why your mom did what she did, but I can say with absolute certainty that it wasn’t because of anything wrong with you. There is nothing wrong with you. You are beautiful, and smart, and kind, and strong, and you are more than enough.”
She leans in and presses her forehead to mine, our noses grazing as she releases my hands and slides her palms to the sides of my neck.
“You are more than enough, Susan Ainsley Mabel Rossi. In every single life and every single version, you are more than enough. I swear it. Only honesty here.”
She wrecks me. The measly dam I’d been trying to maintain breaks, and tears flood down my cheeks. I squeeze my eyes shut. I try to stop them, but it’s futile. I want to believe her. When she says it, she sounds so sure, and I almost do. But thirty years of these feelings, these questions...
I bite my cheek and try to stifle a sob. It shoves violently through, anyway. My body shakes. My head pounds. My balance falters. I’m spinning. I’m falling.
Then she’s wrapping her arms around me, hugging me so tightly, and I cling to her.
I anchor myself to her. She’s steady and strong and grounding.
I hold onto her until I’m no longer dizzy.
Until my tears slow to a trickle. Until I can breathe without my chest aching.
And even then, it takes effort to loosen my hold.
“You are more than enough,” she whispers once again, her lips moving against my hair. “I swear it. Okay?”
I will her words to soak into my skin and stay there. I want to be able to replay her voice and this statement whenever I need it. Whenever I doubt it. Until I believe it for real.
“Okay.”
Slowly, reluctantly, I release her and put space between us. Her arms fall from my body, and I miss the contact instantly. I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to leave the comfort of her touch.
I meet her eyes to find them glassy and red. Tear tracks that mirror mine are shimmering on her cheeks. It hurts in a whole new way. Like I’ve finally found what I’ve been missing, but it can never be mine.
She’s married. She’s Ham’s niece. I hate it.
I want to pull her back into me, but I don’t.
Instead, I shrug and change the subject.
“I’m sorry for waking you.”
Aurora smirks and arches an eyebrow. It takes a second to realize she’s mimicking me, but when I do, I can’t help but laugh.
“You didn’t wake me.” She gestures to the television. “I was watching a movie.”
Sure enough, there’s a movie paused on the screen, and I immediately recognize the frozen image. My jaw drops, and I whip my attention back to her.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“All I Wanna Do.” A smile stretches across her face. “You know it?”
“I’ve watched it no less than ten times. Have you seen it before?”
She nods. “It’s my comfort movie. It’s so underrated.”
“So underrated. I haven’t seen it in years.”
I shake my head and blink at the television. God, what are the odds? I used to be obsessed with this movie. I used to force Sav to watch it with me at least once a month. I tried to watch it once with Kat, but she hated it. I haven’t seen it since, and here’s Aurora calling it her comfort movie.
“Do you want to stay? I can start it over. I don’t mind.” She gestures to her bed. “I have snacks.”
I didn’t even notice the bag of popcorn and package of TimTams, but when I see them, I laugh again.
I don’t know what I did in a past life to deserve the temptation that is Aurora Jade Hammond, but she might actually be perfect.
It’s agonizing, but I’m done fighting it, at least for tonight.
I don’t have any strength left in my body.
“It’s hard to turn down TimTams,” I say with a dramatic sigh.
“Oh my God, they’re so good, right? I think I’ve eaten my weight in them three times over since Melbourne. I already told Uncle Wade he has to ship me boxes from now on every time you guys tour here.”
I smile with her despite the pang of loss that radiates through me.
The statement was meant to be fun and light, but I hear the stark reality screaming from between her words.
She won’t be here for long.
When we tour again, she won’t be with us.
Soon, she’ll return to whatever life she was living before this.
She’ll return to Brady, and she’ll leave me.
I twist my ring around on my finger and press my toes into the floor again. I direct my attention back to the television and decide to focus on that. On the movie and the snacks and the company. I refuse to ruin this moment with the truth. I don’t want to cry more. I don’t want to feel lonely.
For now, I just want to enjoy the present. I want to watch one of my favorite movies with one of my new favorite people while snacking on TimTams in this ocean front mansion in Sydney. I want to be here and ignore everything else.
I put on a smile and allow myself to pretend. Just for tonight. Just for a little bit. I just want to be happy, even if it’s all a lie, and I really, really don’t want to be alone.
“Are you sure it’s okay if I stay for a bit? I know it’s late.”
Aurora rolls her eyes. “Absolutely. Movie nights are better with company.”
I round the bed and climb onto the side with the unrumpled covers. When she climbs in beside me, the mattress dips under her weight, and my stomach dips with it. I grab a TimTam and shove it into my mouth to distract myself from the way my heart flutters in my chest.
It’s just a movie. Nothing more.
I keep my eyes on the screen as she starts the movie over, her arm raised in my periphery with the remote in her hand. She pushes play, drops the remote to the bedspread between us, then hands me the popcorn.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she says, drawing my attention back to her face.
God, she’s beautiful.
Her eyes are like starbursts. If I stare into them long enough, I’m sure I’d find sparkling constellations in those hazel irises. She’s filled with every green and gold and blue cosmic wonder of the universe.
And then it hits me.
Aurora is my passing comet.
Brief and brilliant.
Not meant to stay, but to blaze through and leave my sky rearranged.
I want to cry all over again, but I won’t let reality ruin it. I fist one hand in the duvet and grab a few pieces of popcorn with the other. I force a smile, give her a nod, and speak the only truth I can utter for now.
“There’s no place I’d rather be.”