Page 65 of The Producer: Aaron

I’m making him laugh. I, the most inadequate person to have a conversation with at a party, am making a guy laugh. The sense of gratification and victory that expands in my stomach is almost incredible. Next to me, Aaron watches the conversation as if I were the center of his world, and my head begins to spin becauseof the euphoria and not because alcohol is involved.

“Dill,” Andrew whispers to me, amused.

“I don’t believe it!”

“I swear.”

“Wait, in this recipe, there is nothing to simmer with alcohol that could set the house on fire, right? I wouldn’t want to repeat that experience.” I glance at Aaron, who smiles amusedly.

“Did she set your house on fire?” Emma questions Aaron after she joins our conversation.

“The situation was not so serious. She just set off the alarm and blackened the furniture above the stove,” he tries to downplay.

Andrew and Emma listen to us open-mouthed.

“Don’t forget the vegetables on the floor. Those were also part of that dinner.” I laugh and then launch into an explanation of what happened.

No alcohol to help me relax, just my voice, Aaron’s comforting presence, and a story that keeps them entertained. I’ve never been so comfortable as this night by the pool.

One of the waiters approaches and offers me a glass of champagne, but I decline.

“If you want to drink it, it’s okay. It’s your birthday. Nothing will happen if you drink a glass to celebrate, I’m here to stop you if the situation gets out of hand,” Aaron reassures me, whispering in my ear.

I look up and smile at him. “In all honesty, I don’t feel the need. I’ve never done it because I like it, but because it gives me courage when I’m among other people. But if you’re here with me, I feel less insecure.”

Aaron lowers himself and kisses me gently. “I’m proud of you,you know?” he says before taking me by the hand and dragging me to a table where a cake with twenty-four lit candles is waiting for me.

I blow on them, among the applause of those present, and for the first time since I can remember, I don’t really know what wish to make because at this moment I feel I have everything I want from life. Perhaps this happiness never ends. Maybe that’s the only thing I really want right now.

***

When the last guest finally leaves, Aaron and I find ourselves in the kitchen putting dirty dishes in the sink and leftovers in the fridge. It takes us a while to finish, but it is pleasant to do it in silence next to him. When the last dish is stored in the dishwasher, I sit at the counter and bite into a forkful of the delicious cake Aaron brought in from one of the best pastry shops in town.

I inhale deeply and enjoy this moment, still incredulous at how much things have changed in these five months and how much they are still about to change. I didn’t talk about it with Aaron today so as not to spoil the atmosphere, but in one month, we will have to deal with this accommodation which, according to the press office, is temporary. A thought I tried to stifle all day, but never completely disappeared.

When he gets closer, he gives me a small box that, for a moment, makes my heart skip a beat. The logo of a famous jewelry store makes me go into fibrillation.

“Open it. It’s your gift.”

“But wasn’t the dress my gift?”

“Those were to keep you busy while the caterers set up the pool.” He winks at me.

I grab the box and remove the paper. Inside, a small velvet box makes me widen my eyes. “It’s not a ring, is it?”

He chuckles, amused. “Open it”

My trembling fingers struggle to open the box, but a smile appears on my lips when I do. Inside is a keychain with a small dragonfly with diamonds covering its body and a padlock with a heart-shaped keyhole. It is so beautiful and elegant that I barely touch it for fear of ruining it. I look up at Aaron, who is watching me carefully.

“Thank you, it’s beautiful,” I whisper as I stroke his face with one hand.

“I know our agreement ends in one month, and you are free to find yourself a new apartment if you like. But I would like you to consider staying here and putting your copy of the keys permanently on that keychain.” He seems almost nervous as he speaks, a reaction that is difficult to associate with someone like him.

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” I ask.

“It’s not been that bad in the last five months, has it?” he asks, perhaps worried that my answer is no.

“It was perfect, and I would love to stay,” I answer, standing on tiptoe and kissing him as if my life depended on this kiss.

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