""Don't you wish we could stay here like this forever?" He whispered as he gently traced circles on her bare arm, never taking his eyes off the brilliant blanket of silvery stars they were laying under, while Elvis crooned Love Me Tender from his truck's radio.

"Sometimes," she answered. "But other times, I just can't wait to escape and live my own life. You must feel the same way. You don't want to play ten shows a weekend for the rest of your life, do you?"

"Maybe," he replied. "Especially if I was going to come home to you when the curtain closed."

She propped up on her side and looked at him, her hair falling in her face, a curtain of dark silk. "Using your talents on a room full of drunk, needy people seems like an awful waste of time. You could be anything that you wanted, a lawyer or a doctor—"

"But when I picture the rest of my life, I don't see myself as a doctor or a lawyer. I can only see you, and a thousand tomorrows."

"Me?" She asked, slightly startled by his admission. They hadn't talked about their futures together in forever.

"You," he answered, turning his attention away from the sky to look at her. "And a yellow house with a white picket fence that we'd live in from the first day that we got married until the day we died. I see a golden retriever and kids, and dozens of pool parties. I see Thanksgiving at your aunt and uncle's house, and Christmas at ours. My future isn't law school or a pre-med, my future is you. I love you so much that it hurts."

She shook her head, too overwhelmed to say anything. He was so earnest. . . so hopeful, she didn't know how to tell him that she didn't have the heart to tell him that she didn't want the same things. That when she pictured her future, kids definitely didn't factor into it. And neither did life in a small town.

She had bigger aspirations.

A job in a state capital somewhere, her own office, and a nameplate with a title on it. She wanted tailored business suits and late-night coffee with no-strings attached relationships, and three or four young people who answered to her.

When she pictured her future, there wasn't any room for a curly-haired, blonde husband, a dog, or kids. She couldn't see white dresses or a gauzy veil, or dancing to their song while their friends and family watched them.

Ever since she had buried both her parents in the church cemetery, her small town life had become suffocating.

"Say something," he pleaded with her as he brushed her hair away from her face.

She shook her head again and then leaned down to kiss him on his mouth. "I love you too," was all she managed to whisper before resting her head on his chest and breaking down.

He didn't say anything. He just held her while she cried.

.

They started at each other, their eyes unblinking in the harsh florescent lights of the airport. Summer was over and it was time for a new school year to start.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay?" He asked. "I could really make it worth your while."

"If I don't leave now, then I don't think I'll ever leave," she answered as she pushed an unruly curl away from his face. "But I promise that I'll come back for Thanksgiving."

"After that it'll be Christmas, and then we'll make tentative plans for spring break. But that won't work out because you'll have a job that you just need to hold down and studies you'll want to catch up on. I'll say that it's fine; maybe I'll come up and spend a couple days with you. You'll be a little preoccupied while I'm there, and all the while we'll both be wondering if we'll really be able to make a long distance relationship work. . ."

She shook her head. "Don't do this. . . not right now—"

"Let's face facts; we don't want the same things. I don't think we really ever did."

She bit her lip. "So, we're going to end things just like that? A few words in the airport and then we'll forget that we ever existed."

"I love you," he answered. "And maybe one day, you'll come back to me. But right now, I have to let you go. Because it's what you want. Besides, it's silly for me to wait here and hope that you are definitely going to come back to me. We both know that isn't the case, right?"

She nodded and sniffed slightly, trying to fight off a wave of tears. "We both know that I've been working to get out of this town since I was twelve-years-old."

He kissed her tenderly, memorizing her scent and her taste for another day. "I'll always love you," he told her when he broke away after a moment.

She nodded and then kissed him in return. "Me too," she whispered, wondering for just a moment if she was making the right choice in leaving him and everything he had dreamed for them.

The more logical part of her kicked in and told her that of course she was doing the right thing. If she stayed, she would only wind up resenting him in the end. She didn't want to become the bored housewife who read the tabloids in the grocery line and forgot all the reasons why she had loved the love of her life in the first place.

It was better to get out while she was ahead.

She kissed him one more time for old time's sake, and then she picked up her old suitcase. After a second, her hand slid out of his grip and she put some distance between them. She graced him with a watery smile, her heart beat a million miles a minute and then she opened her mouth.

She had to force the words out. She had to say something; she knew that she'd regret it for the rest of her life if she didn't.

"I'll never forget you Patrick Jane."