“You got me stationery.” “I did.” I let out a breath, hoping the idea wasn’t stupid instead of romantic, which was what I’d been going for. “One for your lists, one for your plans, and one for whatever you want it to be. And I saw you had a few of those kind of pens around, I figured they were your favorite.” “They are,” she said, still staring at the gift. “I hate typing. I love the feel of pen and paper, of having a physical document to hold.” I swallowed. “Well, there you go. I just… I felt like when you first told me about this part of you, you were ashamed, or embarrassed. But, just know
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