ROSA HAD THOUGHT that the term ‘new friends’ would cause Aaron to give up his appeasing mood and run far, far away.
Except it hadn’t. In fact, right at that moment, she was watching him engage in a conversation with Charlie about some legal show they both happened to enjoy.
Of course, for Aaron that meant that he said one sentence—sometimes that sentence would take the form of a single word—and letting Charlie speak several others before he spoke again.
It was charming—though it drove her crazy when it was directed at her. But since it wasn’t now—and since he was engaging for her sake—she found it extra charming. Found him extra charming.
She’d been talking to another friend of Charlie’s while said engaging was happening, but the woman had excused herself minutes ago, leaving Rosa to witness Charlie and Aaron’s conversation. But it also gave her time to think. To consider what it meant that she’d told him the truth of why she’d left and he hadn’t reacted the way she’d expected.
Except now that she’d told him, and had seen his reaction, she wasn’t sure what her expectation had been. Had she thought he would agree to end things between them because she might be ill like her mother? Or had she expected him to stay, to support her, and that had been what she’d feared?
She didn’t know. Both seemed equally fearsome to her now. Both seemed like valid arguments.
Because of what she’d been through with her mother, she still couldn’t make a decision to save her life. Literally. She didn’t want that for Aaron. Nor did she want him to go back to being afraid of life, of love because his life had taught him to be. Because the people in his life—because almost losing his mother—had forced him to protect himself.
Aaron’s eyes met hers and he gave her a small, indulgent smile. Something swelled inside her. Guilt, she thought. Because, by leaving, she hadn’t proven to Aaron that living and loving were worth it. Danger, too. Because something swelling inside her meant that she wanted to.
‘Rosa, you’ve never watched City Blue?’
Her eyes flickered up to Charlie’s, her mind taking a moment to play catch-up before she shook her head. ‘No. Legal dramas are more Aaron’s thing.’
‘And what’s your thing? South Africa’s Next Top Model?’ Charlie asked with a wry grin, but her gaze had already met Aaron’s and they were both smiling when she answered.
‘Yes, actually.’
Charlie looked between them. ‘You’re serious?’
‘Rosa’s a designer,’ Aaron said. ‘Shows like South Africa’s Next Top Model are like drugs to her. Either she gets ideas for her new designs or she gets to picture herself designing the clothes the models wear.’
Charlie blinked, though Rosa couldn’t tell whether it was because that was the most that Aaron had said during their conversation, or because he was surprised by the information her husband had supplied.
‘I immediately regret my dismissive comment now,’ Charlie said, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.
‘Don’t worry,’ Rosa said with a chuckle. ‘It takes more than that to offend me.’
As she said it, the lights in the room flickered. Moments later, a woman walked into the hall and announced that the electrical grid was up and running one hundred per cent again.
‘Storm’s calming too,’ Charlie said, looking up at the windows. There was barely a beat between his words and his radio crackling. He spoke in quick, short sentences and, by the time he was done, he offered them an apologetic smile.
‘Duty calls. It was lovely meeting you both.’ He shook their hands. ‘When are you guys leaving?’
‘Monday,’ Aaron answered.
Charlie nodded. ‘Well, shout if you need any more help. Though I wouldn’t recommend shutting yourselves in rooms any more, okay?’
He gave them a quick smile before walking off, leaving a strange, not quite awkward but not easy silence behind him.
‘We should probably get back too,’ Aaron said finally.
‘And I should find somewhere else to stay.’ But she didn’t move.
‘You know you don’t have to.’
Her gaze met his. ‘You’re...okay with having me there?’
He nodded. She bit her lip and wondered what she would be getting herself into if she agreed to go back to the house with him.
Danger.
Except not going back with him would be throwing away the progress they’d made that evening. She wasn’t sure why that progress was suddenly so important—what did it matter, if she still intended to leave him when this was all over?—but it had her nodding and handing him the keys to the car.
They made the trip back to the house silently and when they pulled into the garage Rosa held her breath. She didn’t know what to expect from him. Didn’t know what he expected. And holding her breath seemed to help still the sudden drastic beating of her heart. And the sudden trembling anxiety in her stomach.
‘We should go in.’
She forced herself to breathe. ‘Yes.’
Silence pulsed between them for another few moments, and then he turned to her. ‘How does a movie night sound?’
* * *
It was like old times. Which was probably a thought he should steer away from, especially since old times hadn’t involved Rosa pressed against one side of the couch with him at the other.
Old times would have her curled up against him. Old times would have meant they wouldn’t be resisting the electricity sparking between them. If it had been old times, Aaron would have pulled Rosa into his lap ages ago and done something constructive—something enjoyable—with the restless energy flowing through his veins.
But it wasn’t old times. Though there was something between them now that hadn’t been there before. He couldn’t put his finger on what. Couldn’t place how he felt about it. Or how the divorce discussion they’d had earlier had contributed to it.
How it had shifted something inside him. As though that something was desperately shunning even the thought of ending their marriage.
So he sat there, ignoring it all, pretending to watch the movie.
An explosion went off onscreen—the final one, thankfully—and the movie ended with a close-up of the hero and heroine kissing.
He rolled his eyes.
‘You didn’t like it?’ Rosa asked with a slanted smile.
‘I’ve seen better.’
‘Yeah?’ That smile was still in place. ‘Like... City Blue?’
‘Movies,’ he clarified. ‘City Blue is a series.’
‘And it doesn’t compare?’
‘It’s much better than this.’
‘Oh.’ Her smile widened now, and his heart rate slowly increased.
‘You’re teasing me.’
‘How can you tell?’
His lips curved. ‘I’ve missed this.’
He cursed mentally when the easiness of their banter dissipated and her smile faded.
‘Me too,’ she replied softly after a few moments, and when their eyes met he swore he felt fire ignite between them.
Suddenly, he was reminded of that kiss they’d shared earlier. How it had been comfortable but had displaced something inside him. How it had soothed him just as it had spurred him on.
His fingers curled into his palms as he remembered how soft her skin had felt under them. As he remembered the way her curves felt. Slopes and indents and bumps unique to her that made his body ache and his heart race.
‘Maybe...’ she said hoarsely, before standing up slowly. She cleared her throat. ‘Maybe I should make some tea.’
‘The only kitchen that’s stocked is the one on the top floor.’ His voice was surprisingly steady.
‘Okay. Just don’t let the door shut behind us.’
She left him without checking that he was following and, a little helplessly, he did. He worried when a voice in his head questioned whether he’d follow her anywhere. Felt alarm when his heart told him he would.
Run, he told himself. It would be best to run, to get away from the temptation of her. But his feet kept following. And his eyes ran over the curves his hands had only just remembered touching.
She had swapped her jeans for pyjama pants he’d found in his cupboard, though she’d kept the top she’d worn earlier. The pants were baggy, ill-fitting, and yet he could picture the lower half of her body so clearly she might as well have been naked.
He shook his head and stayed at the door when they reached the top floor. He leaned against the wall. Watched her go through the motions of making tea.
‘I didn’t mean you have to stand there like a stalker,’ she told him after putting on the kettle.
‘I’m keeping the door from shutting.’
‘Which I’d appreciate more if you didn’t look like a creep doing it.’
He shifted his body. ‘Better?’
Her lips curved. ‘Was that your attempt at making yourself less creep-like?’
He smiled. ‘It didn’t work?’
She laughed. ‘Not as well as I think you think it did.’
They smiled at each other, and then she drew her bottom lip between her teeth and turned away.
‘Rosa?’ he asked softly.
‘It’s nothing,’ she replied. And then the click of the kettle went off and she sighed. ‘I just... I keep thinking about what Doreen said about your mother. About how she did good things sometimes.’
He stiffened. ‘What about it?’
‘Well, don’t you think that maybe this is one of those things?’ She poured the water into two mugs, avoiding his eyes.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘You do.’ Now she did meet his eyes, but she looked away just as quickly and replaced the kettle on its stand. ‘But, since you’re probably going to keep pretending you don’t, I’ll tell you.’ She stirred the contents of the mugs before removing the teabags and adding milk. ‘Bringing us together this weekend. Forcing us to talk.’
‘She might have brought us here together, but she didn’t force us to talk.’
‘We both know it would have happened.’
‘Not in the way it has.’
She walked to him with the two mugs, handed him his before switching off the lights. Everything went dark except for the stars in the sky, clear now that the rain had stopped.
‘It really is beautiful up here,’ she said after a moment. He looked around the room his mother had designed with an architect and grudgingly agreed.
‘Better now that we’re not trapped.’
‘Yes,’ she said, turning back to him. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, allowing him to see her half-smile. His heart shuddered as their eyes held, and then she looked away. ‘We should get back down before our tea gets cold.’
‘You don’t want to have it up here?’
‘And have you stalk me while I drink it?’ She smiled. ‘No, thank you.’
His lips curved as he followed her down the stairs, careful not to spill the tea. She led them to the living area on the first floor. It was pretty here too, he thought, taking in the tasteful décor, the view of the beach through the windows.
His family had owned this house for decades, though his mother had made a lot of changes over the years. Some—like the top floor and the décor on the current floor—he’d agreed with. Others—like the incredibly excessive water feature she’d installed in the garden—she should have let go.
‘I get that the talking is us,’ she told him. Her expression was careful, and he wondered what she saw in his face when he hadn’t realised she’d been watching him. ‘But would we have talked if your mother hadn’t tricked us into being here?’
He didn’t reply immediately. ‘I know that sometimes she means well.’ It was almost painful to admit. ‘But this—you and I—and Doreen... Those cases are few out of many.’
‘Don’t they count?’
He gripped the mug between his hands. ‘My mother hopes for the best when she does things. She doesn’t think them through.’ He stilled. ‘Those people she invited to live here could have been criminals. They could have taken everything in here. Or worse.’
He tried to relax his jaw, and then continued carefully. ‘You have to think about the consequences of your actions. That’s how life works.’
‘Speaking as someone who can act without thinking about consequences,’ she said slowly, ‘I think you need to give her a break.’
‘You might act impulsively sometimes, Rosa, but you don’t expect other people to bear the brunt of those decisions.’
‘Sometimes I do,’ she said quietly. ‘I have. With you.’