"Tell me again what you said in the car, Tell me" he whispered.
"Hmm…I don't know." I brushed my free hand over his vest. I was afraid to tell him again that I loved him. He'd taken it hard the first time, and I wasn't sure he'd fully taken in what it meant for us.
For him. "You're ridiculously handsome, you know. It's a sucker punch every time I see you. Anyway…I don't want to risk scaring you away."
Leaning toward me, he touched his forehead to mine. "You regret what you said, don't you? All the flowers, the ring – "
"Do you really like it?" I asked anxiously, pulling back to study his face and see if he was hedging on the truth. "I don't want you to wear it for me if you hate it."
His fingers traced the shell of my ear. "It's perfect. It's how you see me. I'm proud to wear it."
I loved that he got it. Of course, that's because he got me.