Aidan squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again, blinking rapidly as he tried to focus on the cup of coffee in his hands. He’d arrived at the point of sleep deprivation where vision started to fail – not a good sign. He lounged by the open window of the hotel living room, hoping the fresh air and morning sunlight would help to rouse him. The four cups of coffee probably wouldn’t hurt either.

He hadn’t slept a wink last night. Again. It had been going on like this for way too long. He must have gotten a grand total of about three hours of sleep total since the night of his botched marriage proposal. Ever since, he’d been spending his nights lying in bed next to Kate, wide awake, listening to her breathing – desperately trying to memorize every little sound she made in her sleep.

He couldn’t seem to make his mind shut off at night. It just whirred in an endless loop, going over and over his schedule for the next six months. Not that it did him any use. No matter how many times he went through it, the answer never changed. There was no way he could scrape together more than a few days a month to be in New York.

First there was the tour. That would take him through New York for one show next month, and he could try to extend that into a weekend – but then he’d be off to the Midwest after that for the entire month of August. Could he steal away for a long weekend or two in September? Possibly. But then he was scheduled to start shooting music videos and commercials for his new skincare line by the first week of October. That meant his schedule would be jam-packed with barely a moment to spare, right up through the middle of December.

It was no use. The six months would be up by then, but Kate was crazy if she thought she’d be any closer to reaching a decision. How could she, if they were barely even be in the same city for more than a handful of days? No, he knew how it would go. The six month mark would come. He’d propose again. And she’d say she needed another six months. And another. And another. And another.

Hopeless, he thought. He took a deep breath and swallowed another mouthful of coffee, struggling to tamp down the growing sense of panic.

There were only a few days left until Sunday. Her flight was scheduled to leave Sunday afternoon. 4:15 PM to be exact. That was another game he liked to play with himself, lying in bed next to her in the darkness. Calculate the exact number of hours and minutes until Sunday at 4:15 PM. That had occupied him pretty well for at least the first couple of nights. But mathematical ability was another thing that seemed to deteriorate around night three of total sleeplessness.

The only hope was to get her to stay. Convince her to come with him for at least part of the tour and then stay with him afterward here in LA. Then at least they would see each other. But he knew that was hopeless too. She would never go for it. Not with that damned job of hers. She wouldn’t give up the job as long as things remained unsettled between them. And things would never be settled between them as long as she had the job. It was impossible. A vicious circle.

He just wanted to know the answer. Now. Not in six months. She’d made him promise not to mention marriage again for the rest of the week, but it was all he could think about last night. During the daytime too. He’d been blowing off rehearsals the past few days, just focusing on showing her a good time. Every time she smiled, every time she laughed, every time she looked at him and he saw that glow in her eyes – every fiber of his being screamed within him, “Marry me! Marry me! Marry me!”

He wanted to say it out loud. It was killing him, trying to hold it in. But he’d promised. Broken promises were not the way to convince her that he was ready for a major life commitment. Dammit, why had he promised? How was he possibly going to let her fly back to New York on Sunday without speaking aloud the thoughts that thundered endlessly inside his head? Impossible. Impossible.

He set his coffee cup back down on the window sill. To hell with the promise. He only had a few days left. He couldn’t let the time slip past without speaking his mind. If he stayed silent, and she went back to New York, and it all fell apart afterward... No, he couldn't let that happen. He’d never be able to forgive himself.

His thoughts were interrupted by sounds of movement in the next room, and Kate strolled out into the living room a moment later, fully dressed.

“You’re up early,” she said, making her way over to the coffee pot and pouring herself a cup. “Did you even sleep last night?”

“Not much.” He shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Kate could tell there was something eating at him. Two mornings in a row now, she’d awakened to an empty bed and found him out here instead, drinking cup after cup of black coffee.

He was looking out the window, and she took the opportunity to study his profile. He looked tired. Tired and worried. The web of crow’s feet around the corners of his eyes had deepened ominously, transforming overnight from barely noticeable laugh lines into dark crevices.

It made her nervous.  Something was wrong. She could feel it, just looking at him.

She couldn’t understand. Everything had been going so well the past few days. They’d been having so much fun together. They’d finally figured out how to relax around each other – stop worrying about everyone else around them, and just enjoy each other’s company. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much. Well, no, that wasn’t true. She could remember very well. Back when they were young, when she was just a college girl and he was just the penniless front man of an undiscovered band – life back then had felt like these past few days. That’s how she remembered those four years, anyway. One long, delicious blur of laughter and love and body heat… and happiness.

He glanced away from the window and met her gaze with bloodshot eyes. That didn't look like happiness. Something was wrong. She could see it.

“What’s the matter, Aidan?”

He didn’t answer for a moment. He turned to face her and squared his shoulders, letting out a long, slow breath. Preparing himself, she realized. Gathering his thoughts. Getting ready to say something he wasn’t looking forward to saying. She felt her stomach flip over with anxiety.

“What is it?” she whispered

He shook his head. “I don’t think I can do this.”

Well, there it was.

Kate looked down at the floor. She’d known it was coming. It was only a matter of time before he woke up from this spell he seemed to be under and realized it was all just make believe. She was just an ordinary person. Nothing special. Not really. She never had been. Everyone else could see it but him. She knew it was just a matter of time before he saw it too. That’s why she’d insisted on waiting six months – to give him a chance to come to his senses.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise. But still, hearing him say it, she felt like she’d just been punched in the chest. She hadn’t expected it so soon. Yesterday, he’d told his publicist to confirm that she was his girlfriend. Maybe that’s what did it. Maybe it had freaked him out. It was one thing to talk about a life together when it was just the two of them, but to proclaim it in front of the whole rest of the world—

He was still speaking. She didn't want to hear the words, but she forced herself to listen.

“I’m sorry,” he was saying. “I’m trying. Katie, I know—“

Aidan broke off. He knew he should stop. He’d promised he wouldn’t propose again. She’d looked away the moment he started speaking, and the look on her face was not a welcoming one. He should stop. He was digging his own grave. But he’d uncorked the bottle now, and the words kept pouring out.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice rising in pitch. “I’m trying so hard. I really am. It’s just not in me—“

His words were interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing in the bedroom. He recognized the ringtone. Bat phone.

“Fuck,” he said. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

“It’s OK.” She still hadn’t looked up at him. “Go ahead and get it,” she said, tilting her head toward the bedroom door.

Bat phone. No choice. He had to get it. He held up one finger at her. “I’ll be right back.”

She looked up at him finally and nodded, and he turned and jogged into the bedroom, looking down at the caller ID. Mom.

“What’s up?”

“Hello honey. I hope I didn’t wake you—“

“What is it, Ma? I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb—“

“Mom, did something happen?”

“No. No, why? Did something happen to you?”

“Why are you calling?”

“Oh, Mrs. Green just popped by and was telling me she saw some article about you and Kate being boyfriend and girlfriend, and I was so happy—“

“Mom, this number is for emergencies! We’ve been through this!”

“Did I call the wrong number?”

“I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later, OK?”

He ended the call and flung the phone back onto the bed, clenching his fists in irritation. He loved his mother, but honest to God the woman didn’t know how to work a cell phone if her life depended on it.

Nevermind. Back to Kate. It was probably good, getting interrupted like this. It had given him a second to settle his nerves. He’d been stammering before, but he was ready now. He knew exactly what he wanted to say.

He strode back into the living room, opening his mouth to speak – but he closed it again a moment later as he cast his eyes about the room.

Two coffee cups side by side on the window sill. No purse where she had left it by the couch. No shoes where they had stood next to the door.

No movement. No sound. No Kate.

She was gone.