Aidan gripped the steering wheel with both hands. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on the road. Probably best if he didn’t try to sneak another glance at Kate, riding in the passenger seat beside him. Only ten more minutes and they’d be at the airport. Ten more minutes with Kate by his side. Ten more minutes to try to hold it together.

He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. Neither of them had. They’d been up late, curled up together on the couch, watching the movie. Say Anything. Whose bright idea was it to watch Say Anything?

He’d forgotten what it was about at first, but he remembered once the movie started. It was that one with John Cusack as an 18 year old kid – just some loser guy with no prospects and no future. Not much going for him at all except for his beautiful, brainy girlfriend. That girl he falls head over heels for, and then she inexplicably dumps him. Leaves him crying at a payphone at the Gas 'N Sip.

Under the circumstances, probably not the best movie to watch.

He hadn’t made much of a plan for last night. Kate was expecting something big, but all his energy had been focused on setting up the open house. That was the big plan. The date afterward was just an afterthought. A celebration. Instead it had turned into a goodbye.

She hadn’t seemed to mind though. She’d been in a good mood yesterday. She'd hummed in the car all the way home after they finished looking at the house. That was nothing compared to the look on her face later that evening when she met him in the lobby in her new dress. Worth every penny, that dress. Every head in the place had turned to look at her the moment she stepped out of the elevator. He would've bought her a hundred dresses just to witness that moment – that look that lit up her eyes, the moment she understood at last how beautiful she truly was.

The thought had crossed his mind then that maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe he should give it one last shot. Propose again. What did he have to lose at that point? Nothing much, really. Nothing he hadn’t lost already.

The whole time they watched the movie, he’d gone over it and over it in his mind, weighing the pros and cons. In the end, he hadn't gone through with it. It wouldn’t have worked anyway. He knew that. It would only spoil her mood again. Better just to enjoy the night for what it was. One last night, cuddled up on the couch with the only woman he’d ever loved. The only woman he seemed to be capable of loving. Better to leave it at that – a nice date, a sweet memory. Better not to sour it with another botched proposal, since that memory was probably all he was going to have to live off of for the rest of his life.

He’d been lost in thought, his arms wrapped tight around her, his face buried in her hair, when he’d felt her shift and pull away.

“Aidan?”

He’d opened his eyes and saw her craning her neck around to look at him.  

“What is it?”

“It’s over.”

It had taken a moment for the meaning of the words to penetrate. He’d opened his mouth to protest, until he looked past her to the television screen and saw the credits rolling. Over. The End. How was it already the end?

“Did you fall asleep?” she asked.

“That’s OK. I saw the important part.”

She’d raised her eyebrows at him.

“You know,” he said with a shrug. “The boombox part?”

He’d forgotten what movie that scene was from – that famous scene after the girl breaks John Cusack’s heart, and he goes and stands outside her window all night, holding up a boombox.

“Not gonna work, kid,” he’d wanted to say to the screen as he watched it. “Been there, done that.” He’d done it and then some, hadn’t he? Every boombox, every radio station, every song he’d ever written about her – and none of it had made any difference. None of it ever got her to come to the window. She’d just rolled over and turned away, ignoring him, while he stood there like a jackass, pouring his heart out.

They hadn’t talked much after that. She must have said something about going to bed. He’d followed her silently into the next room and helped her unzip the back of her dress. She'd shimmied out of it and left it in a heap on the bedroom floor.

One last night. One last time.

He hadn’t said a word. Only let his eyes run over her, forcing himself to pay attention. Concentrate. Remember every dip and curve. He’d eased her back onto the bed and silently ran his fingertips over every last inch of her, over and over, like a blind man reading braille. And when his fingers had her memorized, he followed their path with his forehead. And then his lips. And then his tongue. Until she couldn’t take another moment, and she’d opened her mouth and cried out in a wordless plea. And then he’d pulled away and laid himself down on the bed beside her, and made her do the same to him.

Afterward – after neither one of them could withstand the torment any longer and they’d given in to one another at last – they’d lain still together in the bed. She’d rolled onto her side, and he’d spooned her with his arms around her waist and his face pressed into her hair.

Once again. One last time.

They stayed that way all night, both with their eyes closed but not asleep. Both fully aware that the other was awake, and yet not speaking. Not wanting to break the spell that had been cast. As if speaking might somehow make the morning light come faster.

Aidan dragged his mind away from the memory now as the signs for the airport whizzed past. Later. There’d be time enough to think about it later. He saw the airport departures terminal up ahead. He pulled into the drop-off zone and threw the car into park. Only a matter of moments now, and yet he still didn’t trust himself to look at her. She’d turned in her seat, and he could feel her eyes on him, waiting for him to do something. Say something.

He kept his eyes straight ahead on the steering wheel and reached into his pocket, fishing around until his fingers landed on the object they were seeking. He pulled it out and set it on top of the dashboard, halfway in between them.

“Aidan—“

“Maybe you should take that with you,” he said quietly, his eyes fixed now on the diamond ring that sat sparkling in the California sunshine.

She touched his hand, and at last he forced himself to turn his head and meet her eyes. He waited for her final answer, knowing full well what it would be.

“It doesn’t belong to me.”

“Well, then I guess it doesn’t belong to anyone,” he said. “Because it’s never going to belong to anyone but you.”

“Aidan, don’t—“

He gave her arm a tug and dragged her toward him, pulling her into a tight embrace. “Aidan, I love you,” she whispered, her face buried in the crook of his neck. “I’ll call you when I land—“

“Kate,” he interrupted her again. “Kate, is there anything— anything I could say right now to make you stay?”

***

“Aidan,” Kate whispered.

The sound of her voice pulled him back with a jolt to his present-day surroundings. He’d been lost in the story, not paying attention to the child sitting on his lap. He looked down now to see that his granddaughter’s face was wet with tears.

“Oh sweetie,” Kate said. “Don’t get upset.”

 “But why?” the little girl wailed. “Why wouldn’t you take the ring, Grandma?”

“I think maybe it’s past someone’s bedtime.”

“Nooooooo!” She kicked her legs in protest. “No no no!”

“Come on, now,” Kate soothed. “You’re getting yourself all worked up.”

“You can’t stop now! I have to know how it ends!”

“But you know how it ends,” Kate said. “We’re your grandparents, remember?”

The little girl shook her head. “You stayed though, right? You didn’t go?”

Kate sighed, and Aidan met her eyes over their granddaughter’s head. “What do you think?” she whispered.

“Go ahead,” he replied. “We’re almost at the end now.”

“All right,” Kate said. “Ten more minutes. But then it’s straight upstairs to bed.”

The child sniffled and nodded in agreement.

“Now where were we?” Kate asked, turning her attention back to Aidan.

“I think we both got out,” he said. “I helped you with your suitcase. And then I kissed you goodbye.”

She nodded. “And then you got back in the car and drove away.”