that she never allowed me to get close. Just because she let him in didn’t mean she let me. He thinks she cried because of my neglect, but she cried whenever I tried to talk to her. She cried when I asked her to take her pills. She cried when she returned from Leeds and wrote in her scattered journals that she missed Clarissa already. That she wanted to kidnap her baby sister and take her and Aiden to a place no one could find them.
She said the three of them would be happy without the ‘ghost’.
Then she burnt those journals for no apparent reason, as if she didn’t want anyone to read them.
She became paranoid to the point that she sometimes refused to eat for whole days because the ‘ghost’ could’ve put something in her food.
Not once in our married life did Alicia come to me, or even attempt to talk to me. Forget the physical aspect. Due to her mental state and the meds, she became asexual, and withdrew from me. She told me to have mistresses, but I never did, because that meant disrespecting the mother of my son.
The only women I touched were long after her death.
The sole presence Alicia leant on was Aiden. He was her anchor, in a way, and when he disappeared because of Abigail, her state of mind spiralled out of control and then…she died.
That simple.
Could I have done better? Probably. But there was a wall between me and Alicia; sometimes I thought she wasn’t the same woman I first saw in the cemetery, and others, she appeared just like her, broken and lost.
I have a lot of regrets when it comes to Alicia, and there’s no way in fuck I’ll repeat them with Aurora. It doesn’t matter that she’s showing the signs.
This time, I won’t leave, even if she pushes me.
“So?” Levi leans forwards as if he’s about to jump across the table.
“Out with it.” Aiden sounds more impatient than excited. “And before you say anything, remember, you spent the night at my house.”
“Hey!” Levi snaps his fingers at him. “Not fair. She could’ve spent the night at mine.”
My son glares down his nose at him. “Who said anything about fair? I’m going to crush you, Lev.”
“Cut down on your delusional pills, little Cousin.”
After eating from both plates, Aurora wipes her lips with her napkin. “I’ll go with nil.”
“You can’t go with nil,” Levi protests.
“Yeah, pick one.” Aiden motions at the one on the right — his. “That one.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t choose.” She smiles in a soft, bright way. “Both are one of the best steaks I’ve had.”
Levi puffs out his chest, but soon after, his along with everyone else’s attention turns to me. Five pair of eyes watch me as I savour the meat. They’re well-cooked, to the level of what I prefer, so that’s one point for both.
“Any day now, Jonathan.” Aiden taps his fingers on the table’s surface, letting his impatience show.
He takes after me in that department — I was never one for patience. Aiden’s problem is that he can be volatile. Not as much as Levi, but it’s there. He’ll learn to school his reaction better as he grows up.
“Yeah, Uncle. Suspense doesn’t suit you.” Levi’s sense of sarcasm is too similar to James’s. Sometimes, it feels as if my brother is sitting beside me, not his son.
“Neither,” I say.
Elsa’s and Astrid’s expressions fall. They were waiting for the result as much as their husbands.
Aurora kicks me under the table. Hard. The pointy part of her heel digs into my calf and remains there, but a smile plasters on her face for everyone to see.
Fuck me. This woman has a fire in her, and she’s not afraid of showing it whenever she deems necessary.
I suppress a groan as I place my fork on the table. “They’re both good. I won’t pick one.”
Aurora’s heel eases off me, but not before she rubs her leg against mine as if she’s soothing the pain. Her touch is gentle, caring — another side of her I’ve gotten infuriatingly used to.
Before I can grab her leg and keep it there, or better yet, have her sit on my lap, she retreats from me and focuses on the others.
Levi grins at Astrid, who strokes his shoulder as if she’s proud of him. Elsa takes Aiden’s hand in hers and a smug look fills his gaze. “Though, for the record, Jonathan liked my pasta the last time. That makes me the winner.”
“Nonsense.”