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“Distracting you is so enjoyable though.” He kissed the tip of her nose and stepped backwards, watching with a hardening sense of pleasure as she mixed the strained pasta with the sauce and then served it into dishes.
“You might eat carbohydrates now, but you don’t eat much.”
She looked down at the two dishes, her own holding about a quarter of the quantity of food in his and shrugged. “It’s filling.”
He crossed to the fridge with the same sense of comfort and ownership he’d always had at her apartment. A sense that came from having spent so much time there. He poured two glasses of chardonnay and followed her to the lounge. They ate on the floor, on the rug near the heater.
“How did your museum thing go?” He asked, spooning some of the pasta to his lips.
“Oh!” She reached over and tapped his leg in a natural expression of excitement. “It was amazing.” She grinned. “Let me show you.” She put her bowl down and retrieved her phone. When she sat down again, it was beside him rather than opposite. She pulled her legs up to her chest and leaned close to him, as she flicked through the images. “Look at this one. Can’t you see how it’s got that sort of eighties ball gown thing happening? And look at this one.” She flicked to a dress that had a thick lace collar. “So like the late nineties trend; and before that, the pioneer outfits.”
Leonardo tried to seem interested in the pictures she was showing him, but his eyes kept lifting to her face. It was so full of enthusiasm it was practically glowing.
“You love what you do.”
“Yes.” She nodded, and put the phone down. “I must sound silly to be so excited by some old dresses, I guess.”
“Not at all,” he contradicted fiercely. “I already apologised for belittling your blog. I think it’s great that you are doing something you are so passionate about. I’m glad that it’s not modelling.”
“Are you?” She frowned. “I didn’t realise you didn’t like my modelling.”
He felt a sense that they had reached a tipping point and anchored his words cautiously. “I didn’t like you being measured by your looks alone, when there is so much more to you.”
“Oh.” Pleasure glowed warm inside her. “It wasn’t really like that.”
“Wasn’t it?”
She shrugged and reached for her pasta.
“This is delicious,” he complimented in a clunky change of conversation. “Two years we dated and you never cooked a single meal.”
“I’m sure I made toast.”
He laughed. The chasm between past and present was closing in a way that was dangerous. It threatened to catch him in its jaws. Everything about what they were doing was dangerous. He frowned; an infinitesimal flicker of emotion on his swarthy face. He hurriedly finished his dinner and put the bowl down. “I should get going.”
Her disappointment was obvious. “Are you sure?” She bit down on her lip, pulling it between her teeth. “It’s only early.”
He took her bowl and placed it on his, then carried them through to the kitchen. Aurora followed behind him.
“My flight leaves early and I have to do a few things before I go.”
“Right.” She pressed her lips together. “The race.”
He nodded. “The race.” They stood silently staring at one another, so much unsaid, so much emotion charging the small distance between them.
“So…” She dropped her gaze, her self-consciousness obvious. “What now?”
He opened his mouth to respond, but couldn’t think what to say. What now? It was a good question. But it had already been answered. They’d both hurt each other enough for a lifetime. He reached out and took one of her hands in his. “Now, we say goodbye. For real, this time.”
Her eyes flew to his face. “Goodbye?”
“Nothing’s changed.” It was a gruff admission. “Racing is my life.” He cleared his throat. “The most important thing in my life.”
As it had been then. More important, even, than she was to him.
Why did it hurt so much to hear him say the words? How had she let herself fantasise that this would lead to something else? To think they could be anything else?
He was right. Nothing had changed. But despite the fact his words were grounded in common sense, she felt anger surge through her. Perhaps it was taking over from the disappointment. Protecting her from the hurt.
