Page 33 of The Witch's Shifter
Her words pierce me through the chest, but perhaps not in the way she intended.
I know how Aurora feels about me, and I know how I feel about her. Belinda knows nothing about it, yet she feels certain enough in her opinions to pass judgement, and that stokes an ember of anger deep inside my chest.
“That’s bold,” I say, “coming from the woman who left me, married another man, and then invited me to dinnerwithouther husband.”
The soft honey in her eyes turns molten. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“And neither do you.”
Her scowl intensifies. But I’m not taking my words back. It’s all true.
A few minutes pass in bitter silence. I tear bread from the loaf and chew it with more exertion than necessary. Belinda slurps her soup quietly and then glares out the window.
“Now what?” I ask. “Is that the real reason you asked me to join you tonight? You wanted to know about Aurora?”
She doesn’t answer, and knowing her, I’m aware that meansyes.
“Why do you care about her?” I press. “Why do you care about me?”
Still, she doesn’t reply.
“Belinda!”
She jumps at the intensity in my tone, but it finally gets her to reply. “Because I think I made a bad choice, okay?” she snaps, voice so loud and cutting that the people at the table near ours glance in our direction. When her eyes meet mine, they’re brimming with tears.
I’ve always hated seeing her cry. But it’s different now. I don’t reach out, don’t try to pull her into my arms or wipe her tears away. And when one streaks down her cheek and slips off her chin, I just sigh.
“A bad choice in leaving me? Or in moving here and marrying your husband?”
She shakes her head and bites her bottom lip. “I don’t know... Maybe both.” Using one hand, she wipes her tears away. Again, the ring on her finger catches the light, like it’s aware of this entire conversation and is mocking us. “I was just thinking about my life today, about how it may have been different if I’d stayed in Faunwood. And then there you were, like a... like a sign.” A humorless laugh slips from her lips. “It sounds stupid now.”
“No,” I say softly, setting my spoon down. Some of my anger ebbs away. “Not stupid. I understand. And if we’d met like this last year, maybe things would be different. But I love Aurora, and I’m comfortable with our situation, though I know it’s strange.”
Seeing Belinda like this, sitting across from me with tears in her eyes, I’m reminded of a recurring dream I used to have back before I met Aurora. I’d dream of Belinda begging me to take her back; sometimes we’d make passionate love while she still had her wedding ring on, and I’d feel vindicated when I woke. Ithought it impossible for those dreams to play out in real life, but here she is, gazing at me with a mess of emotions dancing in her eyes and streaking down her cheeks.
And I never thought I’d turn her down. But despite her smooth dark skin and gleaming hair, despite her pink lips and the softness that I know is her body, I’m not tempted. Not one little bit.
Because I already have a woman. I have my little witch.
One of Belinda’s hands is clenched into a fist on the table, and I gently reach out to place mine atop it. She flinches, then softens.
“I’m sorry, Belinda. Truly.” My anger has fully dissipated now that I understand what she’s going through.
“Don’t be.” She shakes her head, sending her hair dancing around her shoulders. “It was foolish of me. And... And I’m sorry for what I said. About Aurora.” Her hand moves in mine, and then she twines our fingers together. Though familiar, it’s not as comfortable as I remember. “I suppose it just made me jealous, hearing you speak of her that way.” She squeezes my hand in hers. “You’re a good person, Alden. A much better person than I am.”
The rest of our dinner is quiet. We don’t speak much, and even the potato soup seems to have lost some of its taste. Every time I look at Belinda, her gaze is faraway, and she scarcely meets my eyes. I try to pay for the meal when we’ve finished, but she doesn’t allow it, insisting she was the one to invite me out. And the next thing I know, we’re standing on the cobbles outside, our breath steaming in the cold autumn air.
“Can I walk you home?” I ask.
Belinda shakes her head. “No, better we part ways here.” She looks up at me, and though she’s smiling, it looks sad.
I’ve dreamt of this too, of breaking her heart the way she broke mine. But right now, it doesn’t feel near as good as I thought it would.
“Can I ask you for one last thing?” she says, voice barely a whisper.
I nod.
“Will you kiss me? Just one more time?” When she meets my eyes again, hers are glassy in the moonlight.
