moment she’d felt that lump in her breast, she’d known she couldn’t put him through all of that. So she’d walked away. Had tried to move on.
But the memories wouldn’t let her. No, the memories were always, always there.
* * *
‘Great,’ Rosa said loudly. ‘No one’s here.’
But that didn’t make sense. Her mother had told her there was a Christmas ball for cancer patients that night. Had asked Rosa to be her partner at the ball.
Of course, Rosa had agreed. Her father wasn’t in Cape Town, though she doubted he would have agreed to accompany her mother even if he had been. Irritation bristled over her, but she forced her attention to the matter at hand. She’d spent enough of her time being annoyed at her father.
The room was decorated as if there was supposed to be a ball. A large crystal chandelier hung in the middle of the ceiling, white draping flowing from it to different spots on the walls. It lit the space with soft light, brightened only by the small Christmas trees in each corner of the room that had been adorned with twinkling lights.
There was only one table at the end of the room, standing next to the largest Christmas tree Rosa had ever seen, with champagne, canapés and desserts spread across it.
‘Am I early?’ Rosa wondered out loud again.
But, like the first time, she got no response. Throwing her hands up, she turned to try and find someone who could explain what was happening. As she took a step towards the door, it opened and her breathing did something strange when a man joined her in the room.
‘Who are you?’ she blurted out.
He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Aaron Spencer. Who are you?’
‘Rosa Lang.’ She swallowed. How had the air around her suddenly become so charged? ‘I’m, um, here for the Christmas ball...’
‘Me too.’ His eyes lazily scanned the room. ‘Either we’re really early or—’
‘Or our mothers have decided to play a game on us,’ Rosa said, his name suddenly registering with her.
He was Liana Spencer’s son. Rosa had only met the woman a few times during her mother’s group chemotherapy sessions but she’d been charmed. Not only by the woman’s energy—which she envied greatly—but because she’d done an amazing job at keeping Rosa’s mother’s energy up, despite the fact that she was going through chemo too.
Liana had been vocal about wanting Rosa to meet her son, and Violet had tried to get Rosa to agree to it just as passionately. The dress Liana had sent her—along with the make-up, hair and car she’d arranged—began to make more sense. And seeing Aaron now had Rosa regretting that she’d resisted an introduction for such a long time...
‘I wouldn’t put it past my mother,’ Aaron replied darkly. It sent a shiver down her spine. But she didn’t know if that was because of what he’d said or the fact that she felt inexplicably drawn to him. Even though he didn’t seem quite as enamoured.
‘This does seem like an excessive prank though.’
‘My mother’s speciality.’
‘Really?’ She tilted her head and, for once, let herself lean into what she wanted to do, refusing to give the doubt that followed her around constantly any footing. ‘How about we have a glass of champagne and you can tell me all about it?’
She wasn’t sure how long he studied her. But when his lips curved into a smile—when his expression turned from reserved into one she couldn’t describe but felt, deep in her stomach—she knew she would have waited an eternity for it. And thought that—just maybe—he was drawn to her too...
* * *
‘I remember,’ Rosa said softly. ‘It was a hospital Christmas ball. Or so we thought. Our mothers told us they wanted us to go with them. That they’d meet us there because they wanted to have dinner before. But there was no hospital Christmas ball. Just a party for two that our mothers had arranged so that we could meet.’
There was a tenderness on Rosa’s face that didn’t fit with the woman who’d left him four months ago. An indulgence too, though he suspected that was for her mother who’d passed away a year after that incident. And for his mother, who Rosa still had a soft spot for, despite what she’d seen Liana put him through over the years.
Aaron clenched his jaw. The emotion might have been misleading but her actions hadn’t been. She’d left him without a word. Without a phone call. Without a note. He’d got home from work one day to find her clothes gone. She’d taken nothing else, and he’d had to face living in the house they’d furnished together—the home they’d built together—alone.
‘I imagine my mother wanted this to be much the same,’ Aaron said curtly. ‘She forces us to be alone together but, instead of starting to date this time, we work things out.’
‘But it’s not like before,’ she denied. ‘There actually was a ball then. Sure, no one else was there, but there was food and drink, and the place had been decorated for a party. This—’ she gestured around them ‘—is so far away from that.’
‘But she sent you a dress again?’ He tried to keep what seeing her in that dress did to him out of his voice.
‘No. I designed this one.’
‘You’ve never made anything like this for yourself before.’
‘I know. It was...a special occasion. Your mom’s sixtieth birthday,’ she added quickly. But it was too late. He’d already figured out that she’d made the dress because of him.
He wasn’t sure if he was pleased or annoyed by the fact. He’d been trying to get her to make something for herself for years. Now, when they were...whatever they were, she’d chosen to listen to him.
Perhaps that was why she’d left. Because he’d been holding her back. He’d add it to the list of possibilities. A list that spoke loudly—accusingly—of his faults.
‘I’m sure she would have if you hadn’t told her you’d sort yourself out,’ he said to distract himself. ‘And she arranged the plane for you. And the car to get you here. She’s a regular old fairy godmother,’ he added dryly.
‘No. No,’ she said again. ‘That can’t be it. She wouldn’t have arranged all of this just to play at being a fairy godmother.’
‘She did it before. When we met.’
‘That was just as much my mom as it was yours.’
‘Somehow, I think my mother had more to do with it.’ His shoulders tightened. ‘She likes to think she doesn’t live in the real world. And now, with this, she gets to play the perfect role. The good guy. The fairy godmother. To orchestrate a happy ever after.’
‘For you and me?’
‘Who else?’ he asked sharply, hating the surprise in her voice. She winced, stepped back, brushed at her hair again. It spiralled around her face in that free and slightly wild way her curls dictated.
‘You’re saying your mother tricked us into being here together because she wants us to...reconcile?’ He nodded. ‘Why?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said sarcastically. ‘Maybe because we were happily married until I got home one day to find you’d disappeared?’ She blanched. ‘Or maybe I’d fooled myself into believing we were happy.’
She bit her lip, looked away. ‘Did she tell you that she wanted us to have a happy ever after?’
He gritted his teeth, then forced himself to relax. Control was key. ‘Not directly. But she’s been urging me to contact you for the last four months.’ He cocked his head. ‘How did she contact you?’
‘My...email. I’ve been checking