Page 18 of Unravelling: Aria & Crispin
She had snapped later, furious and humiliated. Thrown his gifts back at him. Insulted him and his snobbish friends. "You keep your bloody dirty money and don't come back!" she had shouted.
He'd stayed away for a week while she cried until there were no tears left.
Just when she thought it was over, he had appeared again like a thunderstorm, kissed her until she was breathless, and pulled her to bed before she could speak.
Afterwards, he'd wrapped an arm around her and murmured, "If I’m staying here, I need a key."
Now, lying on her back in the low light of her bedroom, Aria stared at the ceiling.
He hadn't called. Aria was beginning to realise that she was no more than an afterthought and a convenience.
But Ophelia had gifted her something rare and lovely. Lule had paid for her to feel beautiful. And there was a dress in the closet that made her feel like someone else-someone she might learn to be proud of. To love.
Tomorrow was the dinner.
And for once, she would walk in as herself, as a woman wearing opals and hope and maybe just a little courage.
Chapter 13
Aria
The sky was still bright when Aria arrived outside Ophelia's Hampstead townhouse, a tall and elegant Georgian home with ivy crawling along the wrought-iron fencing. She adjusted the scarf over her head-partly for warmth, partly to quiet the nerves jumping beneath her skin.
She wore the black vintage dress Lule had insisted on. The soft, V-neck cut had tiny white flowers scattered across it like a wild meadow under moonlight. The fabric hugged her waist and flared at the knees. Her feet were encased in sleek black flats with elegant straps, and around her neck rested the pendant, a delicate flower-shaped piece ringed with rubies, its centre a milky stone that shimmered like trapped moonlight. Matching drop earrings swung gently from her ears, catching the light with every movement. Her lips gleamed with the soft sheen of gloss. She had worn no other makeup, save for the mascara she had dabbed on.
Her hair, freshly trimmed the day before, had been left loose down her back, its long dark waves falling nearly to her hips. Tucked into her hair on one side was the only other jewellery she wore: a delicate ornamental comb adorned with pearls and tiny white flowers-one of the gifts she had allowed Crispin to give her.
She remembered the night he gave it to her.
She had been sitting naked on her bed, knees drawn to her chest, her skin still flushed from their lovemaking. Crispin sat behind her, running his fingers through her hair, reverent and possessive. Then he had gathered the heavy strands in his hands, twisted them up with surprising care, and she felt the cool brush of the comb's metal teeth as he slid it into place.
He had leaned in then, his lips warm against her neck. "So beautiful," he had whispered.
Aria shook the memory off and rang the doorbell.
Slow footsteps, then the muffled voice, "Just a moment, dear."
The door opened, and Ophelia stood there in a moss-green silk suit that faintly shimmered under the porch light. Her silver hair was swept into an elegant updo, her silver-rimmed glasses resting delicately on her nose.
"My darling," she breathed, taking Aria's hands in hers. "You look marvellous."
Aria flushed, shifting slightly. "Thank you."
"Now, stick close to me. The car should be here any second. Let's wait inside."
They sat in quiet companionship in the warm front room. Aria hadn't eaten all day. Her stomach twisted with anxiety, and her hands trembled ever so slightly in her lap. The nausea had returned-sharp, insistent, and full of ghosts. Ophelia's gaze flicked to her often, soft and unreadable. Aria knew the older woman was mostly blind in her left eye from macular degeneration, but today, it felt as if she saw too much.
Then the bell rang.
"I'll get it," Aria said, already halfway to the door. It was the driver.
She returned to the living room and held out her hand for Ophelia.
"Thank you, sweetheart," Ophelia muttered as she heaved herself up, unsteadily.
They made their way to the waiting car, where the driver stood ready to open the backdoor.
"My godson sent it," Ophelia confided on the way. "Takes such good care of me. He really is a darling."
