the saucer down on the table. “There isn’t. I wish there was.” His response is so matter-of-fact. Blinking back my tears, I hold in my sadness, but Roman sees straight through me. “Hey.” He cups my cheek, his large hand engulfing my face. “It’ll be all right.”
“How?” I turn into his touch, addicted to him. “H-how long have you g-got?” I don’t want to ask the dreaded question, but I need to know.
“Not long,” he softly replies.
My lower lip trembles uncontrollably.
“I didn’t tell you this expecting a miracle to happen. I told you because I want to spend whatever time I have left with you. No more wasting time. We’ve wasted enough. But…”
I swallow nervously, my pulse beginning to rise. “But what?”
“But if it’s too much for you, I totally understand. I come with a lot of baggage,” he says, sincerely.
“So do I,” I reply. “But that didn’t stop you.”
He smirks, and I melt. “How could I? I was smitten the moment I met you. I didn’t stand a chance.”
Memories of us pressed together, skin to skin, assault my brain, and an involuntary whimper slips past my lips.
It doesn’t go unnoticed by Roman.
His stare instantly drops to my lips, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stop another whimper from escaping. The air crackles around us, and the same budding feeling begins to stir. I remember his lips against my throat as he claimed me with feral possession. I remember never feeling fuller than I did when he moved inside me. He was everywhere, and I liked it.
“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t stop.” He leans over and places a hot kiss beneath my ear. It kicks me in the solar plexus, and I almost topple over.
I arch backward, allowing him full rein of my body. I give, and he takes. The simplest of touches awakens a deep-rooted hunger, and before long, I want more than just his lips on me. But we have an appointment to make.
We get ready, both in a somber mood over what we face today.
Roman said he wanted a bagel, so I don’t question where we’re going when he leads the way. I’m too lost in my head anyway. However, when I focus on where we are, I feel like I’ve just stepped out of a time machine and landed in the 1970s.
Snapping my head from left to right, I see luscious undergrowth and weeping, flourishing trees surround us. The greenery serves as the backdrop to the large group of strangers decked out in tie-dyed T-shirts and bell-bottom pants.
A soothing voice accompanied by an acoustic guitar floats on the warm breeze, adding to the slightly hippie vibe. A girl stands next to me, eyes closed, a daisy tucked behind her right ear. She seems hypnotized by the music as she sways and sings along to the words.
I look up, about to ask Roman where we are, but when I see his gaze fixed thoughtfully on the ground, I know the answer lies at our feet. Almost afraid to look, I glance downward, only to become aware of the chorus of the song which I now recognize.
At my feet lays one word.
Imagine.
Roman has led me to Strawberry Fields in Central Park.
I instantly forget about my petty drama and offer him the same support he’s constantly giving me. He brought me here because there really was no other place to be. This place brings everything into perspective because we can all imagine.
In the words of Pablo Picasso, “Everything you can imagine is real.”
Sighing, I lean my head against Roman’s shoulder, closing my eyes and getting lost in the magic that encases this miraculous place. People come here to reflect while others just want a break from the concrete jungle.
I’m not sure how long we stand, entranced by the stillness calming my raging nerves. I can understand why June opted for her own Strawberry Fields. When Roman leads the way toward a bench seat, I follow, no questions asked.
I stay snuggled into his side, and he wraps his arm around me. I wish we could stay this way forever, but being here cements what we both know to be true. “There must be something you can do,” I whisper, not even sure if he can hear me.
But he does, loud and clear. “There is.” I raise my head, indicating I’m listening. “I can live whatever time I have left with you and have no regrets.”
“It’s not enough time.” My lip begins to tremble. My emotions are on a