“It was terrifying! Andembarrassing. That man saw us naked!”
“I’m sorry, love.” She runs her thumb over my knuckles.Some of the laughter has gone
out of her voice.
“I did have fun, though.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I’ve never done anything like that before,”I don’t even mind the twigs in my sock
that much. “So thank you.”
“You’re the best thing in my life.” She says it sosimply, indisputable, just another facet
of living. And I’m overcome with gratitude and affectionfor this strange creature I have married,
that if she hadn’t already asked me two years ago,I would ask her to marry me right now. I don’t
know how to communicate that so I wrap my arms aroundthe one she has given me and hold on
to it, to her, the rest of the way to the car.
We breakfast at a little cafe in town. The sky hasdecided to be blue today, so we sit at a
wrought-iron table and chairs outside on the cobblestone.We had allowed ourselves to sleep in a
bit owing to our not getting back to our hotel untilaround 2AM. We’d both been bone-weary but
took a shower to clean off the sweat and dirt fromour bodies. She plucked leaves from my hair
that I didn’t know had gotten caught. I passed thesponge over her shoulder blades, over the
raised, pink trails my nails had left. She’s brightthis morning, in every sense of the word, raising
the coffee to her lips and reading the newspaper.Perhaps a habit inherited from her father. We
will see them later today but right now, I have herto myself.
I pull the buttered, flaky warm scone apart and offerher a piece. She accepts without
even looking up from the paper, without lifting afinger, safe in the assurance that I’ll bring my