Aleck ambles toward me, picks up his phone from my nightstand, keeping his eyes on me. He taps the screen, making the volume lower to a tolerable level.

His playful gaze glitters with confidence. “What’s wrong with my music?”

“Nothing if you consider it a good thing that it reminds me of slow-dancing at the Rec Center on Friday nights in middle school. Maybe it’s a good thing we’re saying goodbye tomorrow. I can’t commit to waking up like this regularly.”

I was joking, but reality lodges a lump in my throat. I swallow hard and drop the teasing smile. Aleck’s mouth quirks on one side. He sets his phone down and steps between my legs.

“It’s wedding day… I want my time with you before everyone else digs their hooks in,” he says, leaning over me. “Also, it wouldn't be like this. In the real world, I would have already been at work for three hours.”

“It’s Saturday…”

“I work most Saturdays.”

“You wouldn’t if you had me.”

I slide the pads of my fingers up his sides and around his back while he lays, slowly resting the weight of his body on mine.

“I’d make you do Saturday couple things,” I add.

“Yeah? What are Saturday couple things?”

“Well…” Shit, what are Saturday couple things? “There’s farmer’s markets…”

Aleck grimaces. “Not sure about that one, Grimm.”

“You don’t like fresh produce and artisan soaps?”

“I don’t like large crowds of hipsters and the smell of patchouli.”

“Okay.” I laugh. “Well, there’s Saturday champagne brunch at Petrie’s…”

He nods, lowering his mouth to my neck. “Better.”

The knot of his towel digs into my stomach as Aleck thrusts his hips forward slowly.

“There are Saturday matinees…”

His kisses fall across my collarbone, then his words vibrate against my skin. “Movie theater handjobs?”

“Of course. As long as you buy me a bucket of popcorn.”

“A bucket, huh?” Another thrust of his hips.

“With extra butter.” I smile into his damp hair as his mouth moves down to my breasts. “And a healthy dusting of salt.”

“What else would we do on Saturdays, baby…” His mouth devours my breast over my camisole.

Baby. Aleck Fox called me baby… Fucking swoon.

Today is our last full day together before we check out and go back to our lives without each other. Without this. I swallow hard, unshed tears stinging the backs of my eyes.

These past couple of days have been perfect. We’ve been drowning in a haze of each other. And when wedding tasks pull us apart, we text. He starts it and it continues until I’m back in his arms. Or I start it because I miss him fiercely, and it continues until he’s back in mine. Last night, at the rehearsal dinner, he texted me within seconds of me leaving to use the restroom just to tell me to hurry, which is Aleck for I miss you.

We’re engulfed in one another.

That’s how I know, this ridiculous plan to give each other up tomorrow is complete horseshit. I’m torn between enjoying my time with him and fighting the heartache already setting in. And I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t hurt that he hasn’t brought it up.