Seven Weeks to Forever (Love / Romance)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The movie was released before I existed asCassidy, but when I was Anna, I had friends who worked as extras on-set during the filming. I was in The Life-After by the time it hit the theaters, but I've seen it and I know what it's about. I don't know if Riley does, and I can't see him being all that crazy over watching a movie about love that carries on after death.

"Have you seen this?" I ask him.

"Yeah." There's a far-off look in his eyes, and I wonder if this movie reminds him of Amanda. I do a quick check of his energy. It isn't retreating away from me or closing in around him. If anything, his energy is getting stronger as it stays connected with mine.

"Let's watch something a little happier tonight," I suggest, easing the remote control from his hand. I stop changing channels when I land on the first safe movie I see.

"Palm Springs?" he asks, his lips curving into a smile.

"Humor me." I lean forward to put the remote on the table and then I snuggle into him, letting my head rest against his chest. He puts his arms around me, rubbing his thumb against the top of my hand.

I pretend to watch the movie until I feel Riley shift beside me, gently tugging on my hand as he lies down on his side. I think he means for me to lie against him, both of us facing the TV, but I turn around to face him instead. He looks at me and I bring both of my hands up to cradle his face. I move as close as I can to him and cover his mouth with mine.

I don't know how many minutes pass while I kiss him. My hands move down to grip his shirt and I'm choking back tears again, along with a lump in my throat, when I realize this is the last time I'll ever get to kiss him like this. I'm not sure how I'm going to let him go and so I kiss him harder, pulling the fabric of his shirt up and then bringing my lips to his stomach, touching them to his skin. Then his shirt is just gone and I'm leaving a trail of kisses from his navel to his neck, my mouth moving up to tug on his earlobe. He sucks in his breath and before I know it, I'm under him and he's on top of me, his tongue dipping into my mouth as his body presses against mine. I try to bring my arms around him but find them pinned down by my dress straps, which have dropped from my shoulders to my upper arms.

"Arms," I say, when we come up for air.

He sits up, alarmed. "Did I put too much weight on you?" he asks.

"No, it's my dress." I reach for one of my wayward straps. "I couldn't move my arms."

He catches my fingers and moves them away from the strap. Then he reaches behind me and I feel the zipper of my dress slide open. He pauses.

"Is this okay?" he asks.

My heart pounds in my ears. "Yes," I whisper, slipping my arms out of the loosened dress and letting it fall to my waist. I could let it stay there, I know, but I don't. My dress ends up on the floor beside his shirt.

It shouldn't be any different than when we've hung out in my pool, I tell my racing mind. My bra and underwear cover just as much as my bikini did then. And it's not like we haven't been making out for the last two weeks. But when his hands caress my shoulders and he brings his lips to my jaw, I know that if I let it, this could go way past where we've been.

His finger traces a line from my belly button up to my chest and back down again, coming to rest against the inside of my thigh. A shiver runs through me, and it's the anticipation of what could come next that forces me to break away from him.

His eyes open. I sense there's an unspoken question tugging at the corner of his lips, and it causes me to shift my gaze away from him. It would be so easy to keep going, especially since we'll never have this chance again. I take a deep and unsteady breath, which helps my mind clear for just long enough to hear the nagging voice inside my head remind me that the heavier this gets, the more gut-wrenching tomorrow is going to be for both of us.

"We don't have to rush into anything, you know," he says, and I know he's misread my shiver and why I'm not looking at him now. He drops a kiss on the top of my head. "We have lots of time."

Except we don't. Being reminded of this is pretty much the same as being doused with ice water.

"We do," I lie. It's a struggle to keep my voice from quivering.I'm not sure if I'll regret this choice for all eternity, or if I will be proud of myself for choosing to not make things that much worse.

I force myself to sit up and watch Riley lean over to grab his shirt from the floor. I reach for my dress, trying to hide my face from him because if he sees it, he'll know I'm barely keeping it together.

"You look so serious," he says, as I get dressed. "That definitely wasn't my plan."

I force a smile to my lips, reminding myself that I can't let my mind skip ahead to tomorrow while he's here. If I think too much about these being my last few hours with him, then I might break. I can't do that in front of him.

"Not serious," I tell him. "I'm just a little more tired than I thought. My yoga class today was pretty intense." I reach for his hand and squeeze it.

"Back to the movie, then?" he asks.

"There was a movie?" I feign innocence. Watching a movie kind of sounds like torture to me right now, when I know we could still be doing what we were doing. He laughs and picks up the TV remote, rubbing my back with his free hand.

I try to act as though I'm paying attention to what's on the screen, but I have no idea what I've been watching when the credits finally roll. The clock on the wall tells me it's only just after 10 p.m. It's early, but I'm still a lot less steady than I should be tonight. I need to keep control of my energy, and I know I won't be able to do that if Riley remains here for much longer. If I don't control it, I'm not sure I'll be able to go through with what I need to do in the morning. So I do the only thing I can think of and make a production out of faking a yawn. It doesn't go unnoticed.

"Sleepy girl?" Riley asks. He sits up beside me and brings his fingers to my chin, tilting it upward.

"Mmm-hmm," I answer, closing my eyes.

He drops a kiss on the top of my head. "I'm sleepy, too," he admits. "I was in the studio at five this morning."

I can tell he wants me to ask him to stay here tonight. The only thing in the world that I want right now is more time with him and to feel him sleeping next to me, but I know it can't happen. I'll want to keep doing what we were doing before, and I won't be able to keep my energy steady. I also won't be able to explain why I'm getting up before the sun rises to drive to Malibu.

"I think I'm going to go to sleep early tonight," I tell him.

"That's probably not a bad idea for me, either." He kisses the top of my head again. I want to grab him by the ears and make out with him until the sun comes up, but I kiss the tip of his nose instead. Then I stand up and reach for one of the plates we left on the table. He stands up, too, helping me clear the dinner dishes from the living room.

When I pretend to be so tired that I can barely keep my eyes open, he takes that as his cue to head home. I walk with him to the front door, trying not to think about this being the last time we'll say goodnight.

I linger behind him in the foyer, silent while he puts on his shoes and reaches for the door handle. He pauses after cracking the door open, and then turns to face me again. He sweeps me up in the gentlest, sweetest goodnight kiss I've ever had, and it takes almost everything I have not to break down into sobs and beg him to stay.

"I'll call you tomorrow," he promises before he walks out the door.

I close the door behind him and then sink down to the floor. The tears I've been fighting back all night spill down my cheeks, and I don't try to stop them this time.