“I love you,” she whispers. “I’ll never get tired of saying it.” “Good,” I tell her, bending, kissing her once more, gentle and soft. “Because I’ll never get tired of hearing it.” Tipping my head, I drink her in, save this memory, vivid and precious, tucked away to have for always. “I love you, too.” Her smile deepens. “I know. Now,” she whispers against my cheek, kissing it sweetly.
