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ME, CINDERELLA?(64)

By:Aubrey Rose


“Brynn—”

“I waited for years to be able to come here,” Brynn said. Her lip quivered as she looked out at the grounds of the estate. The lawn was still covered in a frosting of snow. “I didn’t want anything but to see my mom.”

“It wasn’t your fault—”

“It wasn’t your fault either,” Brynn said. “Marta told me what happened.”

Eliot froze, stricken.

“She had no right to tell you.”

“You weren’t going to tell me,” Brynn said, spinning around toward Eliot accusingly. “You didn’t even tell me you had a wife!”

“She should not have told you.” Eliot’s mind had gone blank, his thoughts spinning around in circles incomprehensibly.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I couldn’t.”

“You didn’t care about me enough to tell me the truth.”

“Brynn—” Eliot reached out to touch her arm, but she pulled away, backing toward the kitchen door.

“You treat me like a child! Like I don’t deserve to know anything!”

“That’s not true—”

“I can’t just stop caring about you, Eliot!” Brynn’s voice trembled, and Eliot could see the streaks that the tears had left on her cheeks, two damp tracks stained slightly with makeup. “Not when you keep doing this. Not when you leave me and then chase me. Not when you tell me you’re going back to America and then kiss me like you might stay. Please…”

They stood apart from each other. Eliot wanted with all his heart to go to her, to cross the space between them and embrace her body with his. It wouldn’t be right, after all of his efforts to keep her distant, and she deserved more than he could ever give. He forced himself to stay put.

“I’ll call for a cab,” Eliot said quietly. Brynn turned her face away from him and for a moment he thought she might break down into tears again, but when she lifted her face it had hardened into a neutral expression.

“I’ll wait outside,” she said. “I’d like to walk through the snow here one more time. If that’s alright with you.”

Eliot nodded. “Let me get you your coat.”

He went to the entryway to get Brynn’s wool overcoat, each step heavier than the last. Losing Brynn tore at his heart, but he thought that it must be the right thing to do. She could never be happy with such a man as Eliot, distracted and heartsick as he was. His own happiness could not be further from his mind.

When he came back, her red coat draped over his arm, he saw that she had already gone out back. His gaze swept the immediate gardens, but he could not see her. Then he found her trail. Brynn’s footsteps dotted the pathway out toward the forest, dark but already filling back up with snowflakes.

“She must be mad,” Eliot muttered under his breath. He threw the coat down onto the chair and stared out of the window. He might have run after her immediately but for the fact that he was barefoot. He turned to go find his shoes, but then paused.

No. I shouldn’t run after her.

He stood there in indecision. The woods were filled with poachers at this time of the year, and he knew it was dangerous. Still, if she stayed on the trails clearly, her dress should be enough for her to be seen even far off. But it was so cold out there, and she had no coat…

“Enough, Eliot,” he said to himself firmly. She would be fine, and the cab would be only a few minutes anyway. He had made up his mind not to worry, when from the woods and over the frosted lawn came a high-pitched cry.





CHAPTER NINETEEN



He had abandoned me, and I would do what I normally did when I felt lost and alone and abandoned.

I ran.

It was cold, but I did not want my coat. I wanted to feel the aching chill inside of me, the way I had when I first arrived in Hungary. Before the weeks of anticipation and disappointment, before I had turned into someone different. Before emotion strummed my heart and left me vibrating in unreciprocated desire. All anybody wanted was to be understood, and Eliot didn’t understand me. I thought he had, I thought that maybe he could see past the surface and into the deepest cracks, the hidden and imperfect parts of me. Now I fled his gaze. I couldn’t replace the perfect memory of his dead wife.

I stumbled across the field, my feet leaving darkened tracks behind me in the light dusting of snow. Low branches brushed my face, and the wind whistled high above in the trees, promising a storm. My feet brought me closer to the place Eliot had showed me before, the rocks by the stream.

I did not see the doe until I was upon her. Her hind legs kicked as she jumped over the copse and then stopped in her tracks. We had both been running from something and now we stood facing each other across the small clearing. It was only a split second that we stood there, but every interval of time contains within it infinities, and now I felt the world slow down as the doe’s black eyes locked on mine.