Chapter 22
AURORA
Because Juliet is totally fine with impracticality, she parks her car in the parking lot of my office building and then rides with me to the dress shop in downtown Boulder.
“I just think it’s cozier,” she says happily as she rolls her window down and shuffles through the playlist on her phone. “Riding together.”
She’s right—and it doesn’t hurt that she has good music on her phone. Earth, Wind her presence gives me permission to live that way as well, even if just for a few moments.
So I sing too, the windows down, until it’s difficult to hear anything over the rushing wind.
I don’t need to look at her to see her dancing in her seat, which pulls a smile to my lips.
It feels good. It feels so good, finding joy in tiny moments.
The drive from my office to the dress shop isn’t long, but it’s enough to rejuvenate me after the workday. I smooth my hands over my ponytail to make sure everything is more or less neat after having the windows open, and then we enter the shop and head straight to the back.
“There she is,” Juliet says, beaming at the rack of red dresses as they come into view. “Hello, beautiful.”
“Let’s see if they’ve got my size.”
We search the tags with practiced hands until we’ve grabbed two for me to try.
“You’re going to have to ask a worker to unlock one of those,” Juliet says with a sympathetic grimace as she nods at the little row of changing rooms.
I sigh, because it’s always my preference to try things on in peace and quiet. “I know.”
The lady who unlocks the room isn’t the same overly helpful woman from last time, though, and she just tells me to ask if I need anything. Juliet and I slip inside.
“Try it on!” Jules says with excitement. “Come on, I want to see!”
“I’m going. Just give me a sec.”
The smaller size is too tight—I can’t get the zipper all the way up, even with Juliet’s help—but the second size is perfect.
“Ooh,” she breathes. She takes a step back, her eyes wide as she looks me over. “It’s so pretty, Aurora. Your curves look amazing.” Then her gaze comes back to mine. “Is it comfortable?”
“Yeah, it’s comfortable,” I say. I turn sideways to check the dress in the mirror, and Juliet is right—it fits well, and it hugs all the right places. “Is it too short?”
Jules scoffs at this. “Of course not. I mean—for the office, maybe. But you’re not wearing it to the office.”
“That’s true,” I admit as a mental picture of myself at the auction blooms in my mind—and the image of Casual Bart’s smug face. Instead of feeling annoyed or vindictive, though, the thought of him just makes me tired.
I’m not sure I have the energy to care what he thinks anymore.
I sigh as I continue to stare vaguely at my reflection. All these people signing up for our services, the people willing to participate in a dating auction just to find love—they’re so hopeful.
There are people like me, or like Roman’s aunt Elabeth, who’ve more or less sworn off love because of prior experience.
And then there are people like Bart, or Goddard, or even Roman’s dad, who pretend to want love but really seem to want something easier, something more convenient.
Not so long ago, I wanted that too—easy, convenient, surface-level. But that kind of relationship no longer holds the appeal it used to, and so I’m left wondering: What path have I put myself on?
All she had to show for being right is that she died alone.
Roman’s voice, echoing in my head, where it has no right to be—but it’s there anyway, repeating the words he spoke about his aunt.
“You don’t look happy,” Juliet says, and I startle back to myself.
“No, I’m—fine,” I say quickly. “I’m happy.”
Juliet gives a curious hum, a sound that echoes her expression. “What—do you not like it?” she says, nodding to the dress in the mirror. “Do you want to try a different size?”
“No,” I say. “No, I really like the dress. And this size is good. I just—” I swallow. “I’m tired. And stressed. That’s all.”
Now her face morphs into something more knowing. She folds her arms and raises her eyebrows at me. “Mm-hmm.”
“Stop making that noise.”
“I’m just saying...” Her voice trails off delicately, and I sigh, trudging over to the little bench and sitting down.
Keeping things from Juliet is useless.
“Do you think I’m going to be alone forever?” I say.
“No,” she says promptly, looking down at me.
I swallow and try to keep my chin up. “Me either.”
“Well…that’s good, then,” she says. Her too-perceptive gaze darts over my features.
“I just wonder sometimes. That’s all. And I’ve been thinking about Roman a lot, I guess.”
Jules shrugs and settles next to me on the bench that definitely is not meant to hold two people. “So tell him you want to date him. See if he’s still interested.” She says it like it’s simple.
And it is, maybe—simple. But simple and easy aren’t the same.
I shake my head. “I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe deep down I’m afraid of being alone forever—but so what?”
Juliet blinks at me.
“Fear is not a starting place for wise decision making,” I go on. “In fact, making choices out of fear is a notoriously bad idea.” I grip the words with sweaty fingers, the last ledge of my pride I try desperately to grasp.
“Well, yeah,” Juliet says hesitantly. “But you’re not agreeing to marry him. Or anyone, for that matter. No lifelong commitments are being made.”
“It’s still not a bad idea to be cautious,” I bite out, but the words barely escape past the painful knot in my throat.
“Oh, Ror,” Juliet sighs. She reaches over and brushes some of my hair away from my face, and then goes on with a sad smile. “So stubborn. How’s the weather up there on your high horse?”
That question, paired with Juliet’s pitying expression and understanding eyes, does what nothing else has.
“Cold,” I admit, my voice cracking with defeat. “It’s really, really cold.”
I haven’t seen Roman in person since he asked me out, so when I arrive at his house on Friday and see his car in the driveway, a jolt of anxious energy zips through me.
Good anxious? Bad anxious? Somewhere in the middle?
I don’t know. All I know is that feelings are stupid but I’m having them anyway, and it might be time to stop fighting them.
It might even be time to embrace them—just to see if they stop seeming stupid.
I tried to plan what I was going to say if Roman were here, but honestly, part of me didn’t expect him. I pull up in front of his grandmother’s house and hurry up the driveway, my heart beating wildly in my chest, my hands grossly clammy.
I just need to talk to him. That’s all. Like Juliet told me after our conversation yesterday—just talk to him. Feel the situation out, figure out where he stands and where I stand, and move forward from there.
It’s possible I’m on my way to cardiac arrest, though. I’m not sure this is healthy, the way my pulse is hammering through my veins.
When I get to the front door with its oval window and yellow doorbell, I pause, breathing deeply.
It’s perfectly acceptable to pause in preparation before turning oneself over to an unknown situation. So I shake my limbs a little bit, take another breath, and then lift my hand to knock.
Except I don’t get the chance, because the door lurches open before my fist reaches it. It opens right in front of me, revealing Roman dressed in tan pants and a button-up, keys in hand, clearly on his way out.
He jerks to a stop, his eyes widening as he stares down at me, and I know my expression is less than flattering as I stare back.
He finds his voice before I find mine. “Aurora,” he says, his gaze darting away from me. “Hi.”
I clear my throat. “Hi.” Looking him over again, I add, “Headed somewhere?”
What a stupid question. Obviously he’s going somewhere.
“Yeah,” he says. “Just going—” But he breaks off.
“You wouldn’t be in my way if you stayed,” I say.
And…it would be nice to have him here for my last day. Even if nothing ever happens between us, it would be nice to have one last evening like this.
“I know. I’ve got to go, though,” he says.
A sneaking suspicion pops into my mind. “Go…where?” I say.
“To my sister’s house.” He says the words easily enough, meeting my eyes again, but my suspicion remains.
“Are you avoiding me?” I say slowly.
He snorts at this, but not with his usual levity. “We rarely see each other anyway,” he says, and I move out of his way as he steps down onto the porch, closing the front door behind him. “There’s not much to avoid.”
“But you’re not denying it.”
Silence, accompanied by a neutral expression. He looks the same as he always does, handsome and casual, at ease, but this time his eyes don’t match. They’re guarded. Shuttered.
“You are,” I say, straightening up. “You’re leaving so you don’t have to see me.”
And finally the veil over his eyes drops, his lips quirking into a sardonic smile.
“What do you want me to say, Aurora?” The words are calm and rational, even quiet, but as he goes on, they still hurt.
“I like you; you don’t feel the same. Why on earth would I stick around and make things worse for myself?
” He shrugs. “Better to cut my losses, you know?”
I swallow the emotions trying to clog my throat and push a question out instead. “That easy, huh?”
He doesn’t meet my eye, doesn’t answer. He just shuffles past me, giving me a wide berth, and says, “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.”
His logic is sound, and I can’t fault him for his reasoning. It makes total sense to separate yourself from a situation where you might get hurt. I would do the same. I’ve tried to do the same.
It’s simply not working anymore.
I open my mouth to ask him…what? What do I want to ask him? I don’t know, but I begin anyway—