Page 142 of The Three Night Stand

After another moment, she takes my hand, raises it to her lips, and kisses each knuckle softly. She does it a lot, I’ve realized: sweet kisses, featherlight touches. Soft hands in my hair. Madeline treats me like I’m breakable, sure, but more importantly she treats me like I’m too precious to break.

“Love you,” she says when she’s kissed the final knuckle.

Sometimes I can’t believe this is what I have to settle for:I love you. There has to be something better, something bigger, something planet-sized that could explain the way this feels. I haven’t found it yet, though.

“Love you, too,” I say, and she turns in my arms. I shut the water off and hold her tight as the cold creeps in.

“It’s late.” She kisses me on the tip of my nose. It makes me feel like I’m made of dandelion fluff, sunny and light. “Bed?”

It’s our bed, in our house. I’ve never had a thought I like better.

“Bed,” I agree, and kiss her on the forehead.

The End