Relaxed
Chapter twenty-four
Hayes Rosewood
Aurora’s family cares about her. A lot. In the kind of way that makes the average parent seem mediocre and the below average almost evil. They dote on her, compliment her, and ask detailed questions about every area of her life. Never with any agenda other than making sure she’s happy.
The only unfortunate thing is that their definition of happy and Aurora’s definition look a little different.
“I’m so glad you’re starting to date and get out.
We’ve been so worried about you,” Aurora’s mom, Andrea, says.
They’re in the kitchen putting warm apple cobbler and vanilla ice cream into bowls while the guys are in the living room.
I’m sure Andrea meant for only Aurora to hear those words, but the living room and kitchen are open concept and small.
Aurora’s brother and dad are both watching the Homewood Lions game, but I’m more focused on what’s going on behind me.
“Now you don’t have to worry anymore,” Aurora replies.
Her tone has been a little off since we got here. She’s still herself, but I can tell she’s nervous. I tried to carry the conversation during dinner, but I’m not sure if I helped or made it worse. I wish I could know what’s going on inside her head.
“I don’t know how you have time with school and ballet and work, though. Did you drop one of your tutoring clients? I know you wouldn’t give up teaching ballet.”
She’s taking and teaching ballet? I don’t know near enough about the woman I’m dating—fake dating, that is.
“I was able to drop a few clients, yeah,” Aurora says, and I look down at my lap.
When we started this whole charade, I didn’t think of how weird it would be to be paying her a hundred thousand dollars to tutor me. While it doesn’t matter to me at all, it would be difficult to explain to her parents. She must not have told them.
“Do you need any money?” Andrea’s voice lowers some but is still audible. “I got a bonus at work—”
Now I really wish I couldn’t hear them. This feels like a conversation I shouldn’t be a part of.
“No,” Aurora says emphatically. “I don’t need anything. I-I got a raise. One of the students I’m tutoring needs extra help, so they’re paying me more.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m positive.” Aurora sighs. “The ice cream is melting. We should hurry.”
Andrea murmurs her agreement, and a few seconds later a bowl appears in front of my face. Aurora drops down on the cushion beside me with a bowl of her own. Her leg presses against mine, and the easy familiarity of it warms my chest.
“How much of that did you hear?” she mutters as she breaks up the cobbler with her spoon.
“However much you wanted me to,” I reply.
Her gaze cuts to the side, then back down to her dessert.
“Rule number two.”
No lying.
I let out a sigh. “All of it, but it’s not a big deal.”
“How is it?” Andrea asks as she perches on the arm of the recliner her husband, Rob, is lounging in.
“Amazing. Thank you for this and for dinner. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in…” I trail off. Does food count as home-cooked if a chef makes it in your house? “A long time.”
“Well, you’re always welcome here. And I’ll send you home with some food, too.”
Andrea smiles and I return the expression.
“Thank you.”
“Of course! Oh, are you coming next weekend? I’m making homemade pizza,” Andrea says.
Aurora’s head snaps toward her mom. Her eyes are wide. I’m about to kindly turn her down when Andrea continues.
“It’s Aurora’s favorite, and we’re celebrating her, so it’s only right.”
My brow furrows. I glance down at Aurora, who just shakes her head.
“Is it your birthday or something?” I whisper.
“No, it’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” she mutters. Then, to her mom she says, “He can’t make it next weekend.”
Andrea’s expression falls. “I would have loved to sit with you at the recital.”
“Recital?” The word comes out of my mouth without thinking. Aurora jams her elbow into my side, almost making me drop my bowl.
“Rory, did you not tell him?” Andrea’s tone is scolding.
“It’s not a big deal, Mom. He doesn’t need to be there.”
“It is a big deal!” Andrea disagrees, then turns her attention to me. “Aurora teaches ballet to elementary-aged girls, and they have a little recital next weekend. The little ones will be performing, but Aurora has a solo she’s performing.”
I want to say that I’ll be there, but with how Aurora’s been all night, I don’t want to risk pushing her away. Even if I’d love to see her in her element.
“I’ll have to see if I can make it,” I say, doing my best to sound noncommittal.
Andrea smiles like I’ve said yes.
“I hope you can! I’ll save you a seat next to me in case you do.”
“You won’t be able to hear any of the music over the sound of her crying,” Eric jokes. “She sobs like a baby any time Aurora performs.”
“Oh, hush,” Andrea huffs at her son. “I can’t help that she looks like an angel up on stage. And every time I see her dance I just picture my sweet little girl asking for her first pair of ballet slippers.”
Aurora pops up out of her seat. “I need to grab a few things from my room to take back to campus before we go.”
“Do you need help finding anything?” Andrea starts to stand.
“No, I’m good,” Aurora replies, and leaves the room in a flash.
I stare at my dessert, torn between going after her and giving her space. It’s clear she was uncomfortable with the conversation.
“She can be so shy and closed off sometimes.” Andrea sighs. “That’s why I think you’ll be so good for her. I’ve never seen her as relaxed as she is with you.”
If this is a relaxed version of Aurora, what is a regular one? I can take satisfaction in recalling a few times tonight where I held her hand and felt her muscles loosen a little, but I wouldn’t go so far as to call her relaxed.
I don’t reply, not sure how to respond.
Andrea continues, “Just be patient with our girl—”
“Andy,” Rob warns, setting a hand on her knee.
Andrea purses her lips but doesn’t say anything more. I take this as both an opportunity and a sign to go after Aurora.
“If it’s all right, I’m going to see if she needs any help.”
“That’s perfectly all right,” Andrea chirps, her eyes sparkling. “Her bedroom is at the end of the hall.”
I set my bowl down on the coffee table next to a family photo album I’d really like to flip through one day, and head down the nearest hallway. Aurora’s door is open, but no light spills out. When I reach the doorway, I can’t help but smile at the sight that greets me.
Even in the dark, I can tell the room is fit for a princess.
The bed Aurora is lying on is blanketed in pink ruffles.
Her dresser is covered in ballet trophies and trinkets.
The walls have a rosy hue illuminated by nothing but moonlight from the window and tiny glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling.
Without a word, I walk over and fall down on the bed next to her.