I told him I loved him in his third day of struggling with strep throat. I crawled into bed and laid on my side, facing him. On the right side of his bed, my side. He smelled like NyQuil but I didn’t care. Sickness was the last thing, if even on my mind.
“Babe,” I whispered.
I placed my palm on his shoulder then moved upwards to cradle his cheek. Never lifting my touch.
He grunted.
“I love you,” I said.
“Babe,” he responded in the softest degree of frustration. He had wished I would have said it when he was, well not in bed with strep throat. So it would be romantic.
“I know, I know but…” I tried to explain.
“No, no it’s not that. It’s… Oh babe…” He smiled, with his eyes half open.
“I love you too.”
Never was I scared he wouldn’t say it back. To be honest, I didn’t care if he said it back. All I felt was the rush to say it. I couldn’t keep it in any longer.
How can you keep love in?