P.S. I Still Love You

hair, smooth it out, to make this fight be over and in our rearview.
He lifts his head; his eyes are sad and enormous. “Can we hug now?”
Shakily I nod, and we both get up and I wrap my arms around his middle. He holds me tight against
him. His voice is muffled against my shoulder as he says, “Can we never fight again?”
I laugh a shaky kind of laugh, shaky and relieved. “Yes, please.”
And then he’s kissing me; his mouth is urgent against mine, like he’s searching for some sort of
reassurance, some kind of promise only I can give. In answer I kiss him back—yes, I promise,
promise, promise, let’s never fight again. I start to lose my balance, and his arm locks around me
tight, and he kisses me until I am breathless.