“You keep me whole,” I profess. “And love—that dreaded, beautiful word—love.” I breathe, “Love is two wholes. We are two-hundred percent—an illogical number, maddening, and I will forever embrace every illogical, maddening second with you.” Tears threaten to surge. We’ve drawn closer, touching without touching. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” It pours out of me. “Je’taime, je’taime, je’taime.” He’s already clasping my face, and I’m in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist. Our foreheads nearly press together, and his lips skim over my lips.
