Until We Meet Again(63)
I point to the book he’d been reading when I arrived. “Your
favorite poetry?”
He nods, and then his smile fades. I touch his hand.
“I want to enjoy them all,” he says. “In case…it’s my last
chance to do so.”
I squeeze his hand. “It won’t be. Don’t even let yourself think
it.” I hold up the papers I brought. “Look. I did tons of research
into Cooper Enterprises today. There’s some really incriminating stuff. We’ve got our culprit. Here, look at this.”
“Cassandra…”
“Just one second. Let me find this article…”
As I shuffle through the pages, Lawrence sets his hand over
mine. He pulls the pages away gently and sets them aside.
“Not tonight,” he says.
“We have to discuss this, Lawrence. There isn’t any other
time to do it.”
“I know.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to take a break, but we’re down to
the wire here. We have three days. Less than three days. We
have to figure this out now.”
A soft, thumping sound draws Lawrence’s attention. It’s
the record player, reaching the end of the song. He lifts the
needle gently. For a moment, he studies the four records resting
against the player before choosing one. A women’s soft, melancholy voice drifts out of the horn. Lawrence stands and holds out a hand. “Dance with me?”
“Lawrence…”
“Please, Cassandra. Just one dance.”
We need to discuss my research. It’s the key to keeping
Lawrence safe. And yet I find myself standing. He slides an
arm around my waist and takes my hand in the other. Gently,
he pulls me close, and we start to sway to the music. Lawrence
moves with confidence and ease. He doesn’t take his eyes from
mine. He’s different tonight. So much more intense than
normal, and it’s making me all fluttery. I can’t stay with the
beat, and I keep stumbling over the blanket.
Lawrence presses a single kiss on my cheek. “You’re a pretty
lousy dancer. You know that?”
“Hey! Do you want me to step on your foot?”
“More than you have already?”
“Careful. I have access to futuristic weapons that will blow
your nineteen-twenties mind.”
He laughs. “You’re right. I don’t know who I’m dealing with.”
“No. No, you don’t.”
He twirls me out for a spin, which I only barely complete.
“I propose we be done with dancing now,” I say, sitting down.
Lawrence comes beside me. “On one condition.”
“Okay…”
“No more of this,” he says, pressing a hand over my printouts.
“But
Lawrence—”
“Please,” he says. “I know it’s important, but it’s not the way
I want to spend one of my last nights.”
“Don’t say that.”
“I have to say it, Cassandra. We both have to accept the fact
that, no matter how hard we try or what we know, I will probably die on Saturday.”
The cold truth of his words stare me down, unavoidable.
Lawrence holds my hands firmly. “Tonight, I want to live. I
want to be with you. I want to show you the things I love and
I want you to show me the things you love. Give me one night,
Cassandra, and then tomorrow we’ll go back to dodging fate.”
“Can you give me tonight?” he whispers.
I nod. He presses a kiss to my lips. My heart blossoms,
wanting more. I meet his lips with passion. He pulls back, an
amused smile tugging at his mouth.
“Easy, dollface. I’ll be here all night.”
“Oh please! You’re the one who brought a blanket, not to
mention your puppy-dog-eyed request to enjoy your favorite
things one last time. Don’t try to tell me this isn’t an elaborate
scheme to get in my pants.”
Lawrence laughs, seemingly shocked and delighted by my
talk. He puts a hand over his heart.
“I had no intention of defiling you, I swear it. Unless, of
course, you want to be…”
I go to elbow him, but he pulls me against his chest. The momentum makes us topple to the ground, and I land on top of him.
“Why, Cassandra!” Lawrence says with feigned shock.
I punch his shoulder and then kiss him hard.
When we sit up, Lawrence unbuttons his shirt collar. “I think
you and I need something to cool off.”
“Don’t tell me you want to go swimming.”
He searches the food on the blanket and then grabs two glass
bottles. He holds them up.
“How about a Coca-Cola instead?”
“Nice!” He tosses me a bottle and I examine it. “Vintage Coke.
They’ve stopped putting cocaine in it by the Twenties, right?”
Lawrence shrugs and lifts his Coke. “So what should we