“It’s like God is putting on a show for us,” she tells me, almost breathless with awe, staring at the mountains. “The rocks are incredible. And these colors!”

“Time and erosion does wonders.”

Taking a long inhale of mountain air, she smiles at me.

“Wish I’d brought a tent for us.”

“Oh no.” She nervously shakes her head. “I don’t do camping.”

“Why not?” I lean back against a large boulder, bringing her between my legs.

“Well, you heard Eve before. I don’t like snakes and the wilderness. All those noises. Animals that come out at night.” She shivers.

“With me, camping would be different. I’ve been here on my own tons of times. Sunrise is spectacular.”

I pull her body closer, showing her with my actions that I’d protect her. I would use the words, but I can’t. I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep or talk about things that can never be.

A terror creeps into my psyche and pierces my brain. Memories of war sit on the back burner of my mind, waiting to come back. How much time do I have until the next onslaught? But then, next week, she’ll be gone.

I imagine other men touching her and loving her back in LA. Lauren looking up at them, brown eyes large and sweet, like she’s doing with me right now, agreeing to long drives and fancy dinners and a huge diamond ring …

“Tell me more about how it would be different.” Her soft voice interrupts my thoughts.

She is looking for clarity. She knows what we have between us, but she wants to hear it line by line. She wants me to work it out in my own head. But I can’t. I need to keep us as a jumble, so I can deny what I’m feeling. Deny the fact that I can’t see past next week, when she’ll be gone, without wanting to break something.

She seems to know that I’m conflicted because she swiftly changes the subject. “Did you camp with your family? I always wanted to do that, but my parents aren’t the type.” She smiles. “We’ve traveled all over the coasts of the US, Europe, and Hawaii, but we’ve never done something as simple as pitching a tent.”

“Yeah.” I nod. “We used to camp all the time. Dad, Aaron and I used to love building fires. Mom didn’t always want to come along though. It was our time.”

“If we stayed here together, give me a play-by-play of how it would be.” She nestles into my body and leans her head against my chest, the smell of her skin filling me up.

“I’d pack everything we needed. Set up the tent. Lay out the sleeping bags inside. Build us a good fire. We’d cook over it.” I put my hands in her hair, gripping the back of her head to tether her to me. “I’d hold you. In the morning, we’d watch the sun come up. My mom used to tell me that, wherever I was in the world, I should look at the sun and know she was watching the same one.” I bend my head, gently kissing her lips.