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“You love me? But you won’t marry me?”
She bit down on her lower lip and shrugged. “I’m twenty four.”
“So? I’m twenty eight. What’s your point?”
“I don’t know if I ever want to get married. Especially not at my age.”
“So you’re just wasting time with me until you are ready to get married?”
“No!” She crossed the distance to him and stood before him, careful not to touch him. “Stop being so dramatic. I have no intention of being with anyone else. I just think we should let this play out for a while.”
“All this sounds like to me is that you’re not sure. Not sure about me, and not sure about how you feel.”
She shook her head. “You’re wrong.” Her eyes were beseeching. “I have never loved anyone but you. And I don’t intend to ever love anyone but you. I just don’t think marriage necessarily makes our relationship any stronger. I’m happy with the way things are.”
“Because you can walk away again at any point? Like you did last time?”
She felt nausea bubble inside her. “And you’re so afraid that I’m going to leave you that you want to tie me down legally. That’s not healthy, Leo!”
“It’s not about tying you down legally. It’s about your willingness to make that commitment. A willingness you obviously don’t have.”
Aurora straightened her spine, and crossed her arms across the chest. Despite the fact she was naked except for her matching underwear, she managed to look impossibly fierce. “I am not going to spend my life trying to prove a point to you, or anyone. I’ve told you that I love you. That I want to be with you. That should be enough.” She walked past him, stalking towards the bedroom that housed their luggage. She grabbed the first thing her hands landed on; the Prada dress she’d bought just for him. With an angry expression, she unhooked her bra then pulled the dress on.
“Breaking yet another promise?” He asked scathingly, when she emerged a moment later. “I bought it just for you,” he mimicked, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and snapping the lid off angrily.
“I changed my mind,” she replied impishly.
“Goddamnit!” He exclaimed, slamming the bottle down on the counter so that water sloshed out of it. “What the hell is going on?”
“You’re pressuring me to do something I’m not ready for. That I don’t really care about. Marriage is just a certificate. What matters is how you and I feel, and how you and I treat each other. And right now you’re treating me like shit.”
“Oh, I am, am I?”
“Yes! Why do you think it would mean anything if I said ‘yes’ now? After you’ve brow beaten me into it?”
He reached for his jacket on the back of the chair. “Forget I even asked.” He shook his head as he walked towards the front door of the apartment. He yanked it open then turned to fix her with one last look. “If you wear that dress, you’re going to have every man in the place trying to grope you.”
He left without waiting for a reply, slamming the door behind him. Aurora jumped. She wore the dress to spite him, and wished she hadn’t as soon as she emerged into the lobby. He was right. The dress was sinfully revealing, especially on someone of Aurora’s proportions. Legs that went forever were showcased to their best by the flimsy material. By the time she met Beatrice and Peter, she was half wishing she could go upstairs and change. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. So she suffered through dinner feeling miserable, and self-conscious. The end of the evening couldn’t come soon enough.
10
Aurora stared out at the twinkling lights, a darkly brooding expression on her face. Leonardo would be back any minute, and she still couldn’t make sense of her reaction to his proposal.
Why hadn’t she been thrilled?
Why hadn’t she jumped into his arms and screamed ‘yes’ at the top of her lungs?
She shook her head and tried to focus on the blog she was drafting. But all she could think about was his expression, when she’d hesitated. The hurt she’d seen briefly. The surprise. The disappointment.
She lifted her water and sipped it thoughtfully. The last time she’d loved him with all she had, she’d been crushed. She’d thought she’d died, when he had his accident. It had taught her an impossibly difficult lesson. That being independent and lonely was better than being enslaved by a love that could prove devastating. Except it wasn’t. She’d opened herself back up to risk again, so what was holding her back now? She did love him. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.
There was no such thing as magic. No such thing as a fairytale ending. There was simply making the best of each day, as it came. And being in a relationship with Leonardo was doing that. Why did he need more? Why could this not be enough?
She tapped her fingers over the keyboard, squeezing out another twenty or so words before making a strangled sound of frustration and opening a new web browser. She surfed to one of her favourite gossips sights, telling herself it was technically working, as she was looking for inspiration for a ‘best and worst’ article.
And there, at the top of the page, set against the hot pink background, was a photograph of her. That very night, in the dress that might as well have been transparent. She winced, as she scanned the accompanying text.
