Once we’re through the door and heading toward lunch, I lean in close, the smell of her vanilla shampoo consuming my senses as I press a kiss to her temple. I want to convey how I feel about her without words, which is hard as hell for me since I’m better at expressing myself that way, but her clasp on my hand tightens at the touch and fills me with hope that she understands. I’m here, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
