“I don’t know who he is.”
“You’re lying. Is he your lover, Fay? You two were standing awfully close in the library,” I say.
She shakes her head, looking bitterly amused. “You’re unbelievable, Lawrence. He’s my brother. He’s been away on family business. He came to visit me.”
I’m speechless. Fay thinks she’s proven me wrong. Little does she know. All I can think of is what Hank told me before he stumbled away drunk. All them Cartelli brothers look the same.
“Your brother,” I say carefully.
“Yes,” she affirms with a toss of her head.
Somehow, I don’t think she’s lying about this. Looking back, I can see the resemblance.
“Your brother,” I repeat.
“Like I said,” Fay snaps. “Some of us are faithful. Some of us wouldn’t dream of running around with anybody else.”
“If he’s your brother, then why is his last name Cartelli? Is that your real name? Fay Cartelli?”
The color drains from Fay’s cheeks. Her eyes widen. Her lips part, but for a moment, no words come out. Then, with a firm shake of her head, Fay’s rage returns.
“Ridiculous!”
“Is it?”
“Don’t you dare try and change the subject, Lawrence. We’re not talking about me. We were talking about you and your no-good philandering.”
“How can I be faithful to you when I don’t even know you?” It’s a low blow perhaps, but not untrue. In the couple of weeks that I’ve known Cassandra, I feel like I understand her better than I ever have Fay.
“I’ve given you everything!” she shouts.
“Only your kiss. Never your heart. You keep me at a distance. It’s like you don’t want me to know who you really are. Maybe because you’re really Fay Cartelli from New York. Why, Fay? Why are you pretending to be someone else?”
She pushes me with all her strength. “Let me past, you big brute.”
“Please. I want to talk about this.”
“No!”
“I’m begging you.”
She shakes her head, but tears roll down her cheeks. “Leave me alone!”
I’ve never seen her cry. Not even so much as a glassy eye. The sight shocks me. Fay lowers her face, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Stunned by this show of emotion, I fold her into an embrace. She allows it, though I can feel the tension in her body.
When she calms, I ease her back and gently lift her chin so that her tear-filled eyes are level with mine. She looks conflicted, scared. I brush my fingers along her cheek, wiping away the streaks of kohl. She’s undeniably beautiful. It’s not that we didn’t have some good times this summer. I feel like somewhat of a cad for hurting her. I don’t want things to end like this. I take her hand.
“Tell me one true thing, Fay. Just one thing.”
She searches my gaze, as if analyzing what to say. And then, all at once, her face hardens.
“I’ll tell you one true thing,” she says, her voice low. “You’ll be sorry for the way you treated me, Lawrence Foster. Mark my words.”
Glaring, she pushes past me, and this time I let her go.
Chapter 24
Cassandra
After another long day of research at the library, the thought of coming home to dodge suspicion at dinner makes me linger in my car long after I’ve parked it. You’d think Mom would be happy I was staying away from drugs or binge-drinking parties or whatever else most parents worry their teenagers will get into. But no. My mother is on full watch because her daughter spends too much time at the library. Who’s the abnormal one here? Her or me?
When I finally drag myself into the house, however, only Frank and my little brother are there. Frank’s making pancakes for dinner and letting Eddie sit on the counter to help pour the batter on the griddle. For a three-year-old, it’s basically the coolest thing ever. When Eddie looks up at me, his big, blue eyes sparkle with delight.
“We’re cookin’, Cassie!”
I come over and ruffle his hair. “I can see that. You’re doing pretty awesome, kiddo.”
Frank flips a mostly burnt pancake high in the air and tries to catch it with the spatula. It flops back on the griddle, crumpled in a gloopy blob. Eddie giggles loudly.
“Nice one, Frank,” I say.
He grins sheepishly. “What can I say? I’m no cook, Cassarino.”
“Clearly. Where’s Mom?”
“Having dinner with some friends.”
“Some stuck-up society ladies, you mean?”
Frank just shrugs. “Hey, if that’s her jam.” He flips another pancake. This one tears in half. “How about you? Have a hot date?”
I sneak a glance toward the back door. “Actually, I think I might go for a little swim or something.”
Frank smiles. “You’ve been spending a lot of time out there, haven’t you?”
I go on alert. “Um, well, I guess. I-I really like swimming.”
“I think it’s fantástico,” Frank says, swirling his spatula with a flourish. “It’s nice that someone is getting use out of the beach. I always found it too rocky for swimming, but hey…”
“If that’s my jam,” I finish.
He winks and taps his nose. “Exactly.”
“Well, enjoy your pancakes,” I say, giving Eddie a quick kiss on the top of his head.
“Enjoy your swim,” Frank says.
“I will.”
In my room, I toss my bag on the bed and am about to head out, but passing the mirror makes me stop cold. Could I look any more disheveled? I guess a day of intense research doesn’t exactly lend itself to glamour. Who knew?
I instinctively reach for a T-shirt and jean shorts, but another outfit inside the closet catches my eye. Hanging near the back is a pale pink sundress. I had written it off as too prissy, but tonight, it strikes me as romantic and feminine. I pull it on. Examining myself in the mirror, I find myself pulling my hair out of its messy bun. Loose waves fall over my bare shoulders. Grabbing my research, I run back downstairs toward the beach.
Halfway down the path, music wafts past my ears. I pause, listening, uncertain of the source. I find it when I reach the beach.
Lawrence has been busy. A deep red blanket is spread across the sand, held down by big, brass lanterns on each corner. Plates of food rest all across the top. And a gorgeous, vintage record player, the kind with the big, dark horn curling out the side, sits in the center. Scratchy old jazz music lifts over the soft sound of the surf.
Lawrence reclines on the blanket, reading a worn book and eating some funny-looking candies. When he notices me, he sits up. Then he pauses, seeming to take in every inch of me. The look in his eyes releases a swarm of butterflies in my stomach. I give the dress a self-conscious tug.
“I don’t know why I—”
“It’s lovely, Cassandra,” Lawrence says, a smile spreading over his face. “You’re lovely. Truly.”
I blush and sit by him on the blanket. “So, what’s all this? A picnic? Looks like mostly junk food.”
“My favorite foods. Minus Starsparkles, of course, given that I’m supposed to forget they exist.”
“You mean Starbursts,” I say, laughing. “But I’m glad you’ve remembered your solemn oath.”
He gives me a salute and then pops a grape in his mouth.
“You’re listening now to my favorite music,” he says, motioning to the record player.
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 tod
ay. 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 his. 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 stares 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 sings, 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 toast to?”
“To tonight,” I say, clinking my bottle to his.
“Here’s to not getting a wink of sleep.”
I raise my eyebrows as we sip our drinks. He totally wants me.
But for the next few hours, things stay completely tame. After a quick trip back to the house to make Mom think I’m in bed, I sneak back out, and we eat every single piece of candy and cookie on the picnic blanket. Then Lawrence tries to teach me to Charleston, an endeavor that doesn’t end well. We listen to every one of his records, dancing like fools. Well, I look like a fool. Lawrence may be from the twenties, but the boy has swagger. It’s incredibly sexy.
After the records, we drink more Coke and then walk along the shore break, laughing and running as the waves splash against our legs. Lawrence recites poetry. I draw a portrait of him in the wet sand. We talk endlessly about everything.
It’s perfection.
We finally settle on the blanket. I lay tucked in Lawrence’s arms, gazing up at the stars. The rhythm of the waves lulls us into a drowsy silence.
“Cassandra,” Lawrence finally says.
“Mmm?”
He turns on his side to look at me. He brushes a lock of windblown hair from my face. “I don’t know what will happen in three days…”
“You shouldn’t—”
He sets his fingers against my lips. “I don’t know what will happen on Saturday, but I’ve decided it doesn’t matter. No matter what, I’m lucky to have met you. And if I have to die, if fate insists on having me, then I’ll leave this life happy. Because I met you. Because I was able to know you and love you. Even if just for a few weeks.”
A lump lodges in my throat. But it’s too late. I have no control over my emotions at two in the morning.
“You love me?” I ask, my voice choked.
He nods, stroking the back of his fingers down my cheek. “I do. I’m in love with you, Cassandra.”
I can barely process his words without crying.
“I’m going to save you,” I whisper.
“But don’t you see? You already have. My soul is full just knowing you.”
My eyes tingle with the threat of tears. “I’m in love with you too. I can’t lose you. I need to know that all of this wasn’t for nothing.”
He sets his hand to my cheek. “You have me tonight. That’s all we can know for certain.”
I hold his gaze, yearning to feel the calm that he possesses. And then I understand. Either one of us could die in the next three days. We could die tomorrow. All we have is right now. A fire burns through every inch of me. I kiss his hand.
“Then let’s make tonight count,” I whisper.
He kisses me, his lips soft and achingly sweet. Lawrence pulls me on top of him, and every nerve end tingles with sensation. I’ll worry about tomorrow later. For this one breathtaking, beautiful moment, we have forever.
Chapter 25
Cassandra
Dawn on the beach is surprisingly cold. Lawrence and I are wrapped in each other’s arms and the blanket, but it’s still chilly enough to wake me. In a way, it’s a good thing. I need to sneak back inside before Mom wakes up. I turn a little, searching for my phone amid the tangle of blanket.
Lawrence releases a sigh in his sleep, drawing my attention. He looks so sweet that I impulsively want to kiss his eyelids. Thinking about last night, a rush of heat crackles over my cheeks and neck. I’m instantly self-conscious. Does my breath stink? Do I look like death warmed over?
Not that Lawrence would say
anything if I did. I lie back on the blanket and watch him for a minute. This whole situation still feels like a weird dream. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that a tiny part of me wonders if he’s a ghost. An even bigger part of me wonders if there’s really any chance to save him.
I touch Lawrence’s hand lightly, feeling the smoothness of his skin. I’ve been so focused on trying to figure out who’s going to hurt him that I’ve barely entertained the question of what comes next. Each moment I’ve spent with Lawrence has been with the urgency that it could be our last. What will happen when we can be together without limits? And more importantly, where will we be together? We can’t stay on the beach forever. So whose world do we settle in? Mine? His? Can I really leave my life behind to be with him? Can I ask him to do the same?
The questions pile on, and I pull my hand from Lawrence’s. Unease seeps into what should be a perfect morning. I close my eyes, wanting to unthink these thoughts.
Lawrence shifts beside me. He opens his eyes, blinking slowly. A smile spreads across his face.
“It wasn’t a dream then.”
This makes me smile as well. “Nope.”
He stretches with a happy sigh. “Divine.” I laugh a little, and he traces a line along my jaw. “You’re perfection, Cassandra.”
“Mental note: Lawrence is particularly complimentary in the mornings.”
He smiles. “You should take advantage of that more often in the future.”
“I’ll try.” But his mention of the future calls back the unsettled feeling. I check the time on my phone. Six a.m.
“What’s that?” Lawrence asks, resting his chin on my shoulder. His messy morning hair is outrageously cute. I tuck my phone beneath me, giving him a quick kiss.
“Futuristic stuff. You’re not allowed to see it yet.”
“If you insist.” But he darts a hand to my pocket to try to grab it.
“Hey!” I successfully pull away my phone, and he grabs my key ring instead.
“Aha!” He says. “I’ve got your…” He holds up my keys, examining them with a furrowed brow. “What on earth is this thing?”
Until We Meet Again Page 17