He stares down at me, and I realize what could have happened today. I could have awkwardly fumbled around him. I could have embarrassed myself on national television. Instead, he made me feel desired and hot instead of mortified and cold. My eyes blanket in gratitude, the thank you on the tip of my tongue. But his thumb brushes against my cheek and he says, very softly, “You’re welcome, darling.” I exhale, glad that I don’t have to struggle to produce the words anymore.
